Tyrion Scar Novels & Stories

“I--” “Do you want to know a secret,” he interrupted. “I’m scared to leave the house too.” I frowned at him. Before I could ask him why, he guided my hand up to his face and pressed it to the burned skin. “It makes me feel self-conscious,” he whispered. “I know that everybody is going to stare and wonder what happened to him that gave him such a hideous scar.” “You’re not hideous,” I told him. “You’re sexy.” Tyrone chuckled. Slipping his fingers through mine, he led me out of the house. I watched as he locked the door but the low rumble of a car pulled my attention away.

She was gifted and not having an eyesight didn’t limit her. If anything, it seemed like her greatest weapon. Zena would take these men on a ride to hell and back but it still didn’t change the fact that she was my sister and the fools I took in tried to touch her. It made my blood boil. Tyron crawled over to me, whimpering. I feared Logan already gave him another scar to nurse somewhere along his jawline. “Alpha…forgive me.” Tyron said in a hoarse voice. I chuckled. I haven’t even gotten started.

He asks the stableboy, his palm aches to touch the mare, its body just looks so silky. “It's Ivor’s, I'm afraid no one is allowed to,” the stable boy says, looking apologetic. “You can have it if you want,” The male voice behind says, causing Tyr to spin around, Dark blond hair and eyes as blue as the ocean. Tyr's mouth suddenly feels dry as he stares at the towering warrior, shirtless and his body graced with scarification tattoo that tells stories of his origin. Did he hear right? Perhaps the Alpha just means that he is allowed to pet it; there's no way he would give him this expensive-looking animal.

Inside was a scale glowing the same gold, the blood not quite wiped from its edge, as if to tell me how much agony its owner had endured to tear it free. My eyes flew wide and I covered my mouth. “Wait, what is this?” He'd smiled. “It's my proof that I love you. Meeting you, Penny, is the luckiest thing that's ever happened to me.” I yanked his shirt up and saw the savage scar across his back. Damage to a merfolk scale was irreversible. That scar would be with him for the rest of his life. My eyes filled at once. I traced the scar, aching for him. “Why would you do something so stupid?”

She screamed and pushed me a little to walk ahead of me. I clenched my jaw and closed my eyes. I had to cool down. Anger was going to make me weak. I needed the aggression and determination for the actual competition. I had another reason to give my best. To show Ava that blood wasn't only factor in deciding who gets to the powerful position. Outside the ladies's chamber, our mates were waiting for us. Alpha Tyrion looked so devilishly handsome in his silver blue armour and a huge sword. He took my hand in his and planted a kiss on the back of my palm.

“Aur--- Ms. Aurora…” His eyes beamed with happiness as if he was waiting for me to come see him. He sprung up from his bed, removing the sheets. I see the scars around his body, the marks starting from his fingers and finding their way towards the sleeves. His neck had a cut, which was on its way to fade however I could make out how ruthlessly they tortured him. Mirage had grown up, tall, broad and charming. His perfect tan skin glistening with joy and the sweat appearing on his temples. “I’m sorry, Mirage…” of course I would blame myself, they gave this warning just to scare me.

Renny said as she leaned back on the bathroom door. He glanced over at her, a frown pulling his cheek down and stretching the scar. "It doesn't look good, either." :It looks like what it is, Warrior. A scar from battle.: :A battle I didn't fight.: Kree chose not to answer that last statement. Renny walked over to where Rhychard stood, his gaze back at the scar he manipulated with his fingers. "Leave it alone. It's healed. Be thankful for that."

The girl in the mirror standing opposite me was a girl broken and recombined with the improper pieces. "Pathetic," I muttered to myself. And I grinned. Cold, empty thing that it was, with no regard for the girl that once was me. Because what I discovered, Jake and Cassandra didn't kill me. Victoria didn't, either. They just provided justification for waking the hell up. I removed my makeup and cotton brushes wiped away like discarding the old me. I looked again and caught sight of something new in my eyes. Peace of anger. Hunger. "No more tears," I told myself. "Time they're sorry for all of this."

Still hers. She trailed her fingertips his arm, as the morning light danced over the bruises and healing wounds as if trying to make sense of the pain etched into his skin. Battle scars. Every one of them earned in the fight to get Sophie back. The war might have been over, but peace hadn't yet settled down in her heart. Grayson stirred beside her. "You ever going to stop watching me sleep like a serial killer?" She smiled faintly. "Probably not." He cracked one eye open. "Creepy and sexy. That's very on-brand for you."

Amara stared back, trying to project a semblance of stillness, refusing to betray the sheer terror gripping her. ​Emiliano stared at her for a long, silent moment, his expression unreadable. He seemed to be assessing her, her fear, her presence in his bed. He slowly walked around the bed, stopping on his side. ​He reached up, pulling his undershirt over his head in one fluid motion, tossing it onto a nearby chair. Amara couldn't breathe. Her gaze involuntarily dropped, taking in the powerful breadth of his chest, the taut lines of his abdomen, and the faint, intricate scars—silent trophies of a violent life—that crisscrossed his left shoulder.