Synopsis Of Under Your Scars: A Dark Romance Novel Novels & Stories

_______________ **BLURB** Book 1] CRIMSON : 'Il Velo di MINE' {The Veil of Mine} from MAFIA DARK ROMANCE MINE series He lowered his head, his pupils burning like an ignited flame. "Maybe you think you can escape from me... BUT YOU CAN'T GET AWAY FROM ME", He whispered softly in her ears, causing her to shiver under his gaze. He was her WARMTH. She was his PEACE. but everything was not this simple at all. *** Zafira Wilder, a 30-year-old divorcee, thought she had escaped the shadows of her past, but her world is about to be shattered.

Neither of you have anything to lose or anywhere to be so you cut the pleasantries and dive right in to your childhoods, parents, lovers, heart breaks, illnesses, and on and on. Before the two realized it, the sun was almost gone. B looked down at her bandage. A thin line of blood trickled down her wrist. Now he felt close enough to lick her, close enough physically and mentally. “Here, let me fix that.” He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips. A coy, inviting little smile slid across her face. Holding her gaze and her hand, B licked the line of blood until there was more on him than her. With blood still wet on his lips, she moved to kiss him like a shark coming for bloody chum.

“I’m not a type. I’m here to clean.” His smile deepens. “What’s your name?” “Zara Blake.” “Zara.” He says it like it’s something he plans to taste later. “Pretty name. How old are you, Zara?” “Old enough to know when I’m being hunted.” That gets a low chuckle from him. Damn it. His laugh is hot. “I like you.” He steps closer. “You’ve got fire.” “I’m not here to be liked.” “No?” He’s too close now. The scent of him—something dark and expensive—wraps around me like a noose. “What if I asked you to clean my room next?”

CHAPTER 296: THE FIRE & THE ROSE [LUCIEN AND SLOANE] EPILOGUE FOUR SLOANE’S POINT OF VIEW The meadow behind the Ravenscroft estate was a sea of emerald, red roses, and wildflowers, a stark contrast to the cold, marble hallways where Lucien and I first began our war….the place it all began.

She glanced at me for a moment, and then looked back into the book. “What's the irony?” I asked. “You being the last of the White wolves, but still a hybrid of the demon wolves. It just doesn't make sense.” Scarlett shook her head. It was obviously stressing her out. “I'm sure we will figure it out.” I assured her, flipping the cake. “Maybe she meant to call me a hybrid of the White wolf and demon wolf.” “Maybe.” Scarlett shrugged, picking up the book again. She read a considerable amount of it, and she finally reached a point where it made sense.

I wanted to leave this suffocating place. As the car sped off, I could still see the burning hatred in Caleb's expression through the rearview mirror. While I was looking out of the window, my phone buzzed. It was a message from an unknown number with three pictures attached. The first was a golden bracelet engraved with Caleb and Selene's initials, CS. The second was a picture of a huge bouquet of 999 flowers, laid out on a hospital bed. The last picture was of Caleb passionately kissing Selene in the hospital bed.

“This power, this darkness, it'll kill you.” I smiled, slow and sharp. “You still don’t understand,” I said. “I’m not becoming Maria.” I leaned in, my breath brushing his ear. “I’m becoming something worse.” Damien stiffened, heartbeat hammering against mine. “Scarlett…” “For once,” I murmured, stepping back, “don’t follow me.” I turned and walked away, heels clicking with finality. Damien didn’t call after me. But he followed anyway. Back at the penthouse, I stood on the balcony overlooking the city. The wind was cold. The sky was bruised with storm clouds.

"Sorry, did I scare you? I promise, you'll never see scum like that around here again." To thank him, I accepted his invitation to an art exhibition at his private estate that weekend. On Saturday night, Dorian had a gift box delivered. Inside was a deep purple velvet gown. It was exquisitely tailored, with a high neck and long sleeves that perfectly concealed the old, fading scars on my body, while still accentuating my waist. I stroked the soft fabric, my eyes welling up. Gavin had traced my scars with sadness, but he was never this thoughtful. I never dared tell him how much they bothered me. It was a weakness the Godfather’s wife wasn't allowed to have.

My feet slid on the wet foliage covering the forest floor, coming to an abrupt stop. 'Let me out. ' My wolf demanded, bumping on my consciousness. 'You know you have to wait until she's ready. ' I snapped, bending over with my hands firmly placed over my thighs. The more we bickered the more I yearned for Scarlett. It could have been the full moon intensifying my feelings, or the fact that I was an alpha. The sun was almost sinking down, only parts of the orange sky were visible through the thick canopy. Soon darkness would take over, the moon would ascend and Scarlett would become mine.

Your encouragement gave me strength, motivation, and purpose. Scarred Under Moonlight became more than just a novel. It became a shared experience, one built on emotion, connection, and trust. Together, we explored love, loss, resilience, and healing. Together, we watched as characters grew, stumbled, rose, and finally found peace. That shared experience is something I will always treasure.