Under The Skin Novels & Stories

“You’re underestimating him. And me.” Marco chuckled, pacing slowly around her. “Underestimate you? Sweetheart, you’re nothing but a pawn in a game you don’t understand.” “Funny,” Sienna shot back, her voice sharp, “that’s exactly what people are saying about you. And look where you are—desperate enough to sell me to save your sorry skin.” Marco’s smirk faltered, his eyes narrowing. “Watch your mouth.”

She turned around and smiled. “Sure.” I joined her, helping with the preparations while we chatted about random things. For a few minutes, I almost forgot about what had happened. Almost. Every now and then, I would touch my butt without even realizing it. Each time, a small smile found its way onto my face. Skylar noticed. She stopped what she was doing and looked at me suspiciously. “What’s wrong with you?” I looked at her. “Nothing.” She raised an eyebrow. “You look flushed, and you’ve been touching your butt like you’re trying to measure the size.”

Her uniform clung damply to her skin, the humidity pressing in like a second layer. Bed four drew her attention again. The girl is no older than ten. She lay curled beneath crisp sheets, her skin flushed and fevered. The burns were odd. No blistering. No trauma. Just heat. Like fire lived inside her. Isla frowned, scanning the chart. “Her temperature is climbing again. No signs of infection. No external source.” “She doesn’t burn like humans do.” The voice came from behind her. Low, gravelled, and far too close. Isla spun around, instinct flaring. The man in the doorway was tall, broad-shouldered, with dark eyes that shimmered gold in the emergency lighting. Not metaphorically. Literally.

Because the hand that emerged from the sleeve was rotting. Not wounded. Not infected. But dead. The skin hung in thin, loose folds, grey-green and peeling, with long cracks that oozed black fluid. Black veins pulsed beneath the translucent flesh—no, not veins—tunnels. And inside them, something squirmed. Maggots. Or something like them. Moving slowly beneath the skin. Living under the flesh. I fought the wave of nausea that curled inside me, forcing my breath to steady. But my throat locked.

My true nature was revealed when my skin appeared in the sunlight, and I didn't want anyone to know my secret. But how could this be happening now, in this dimly lit café? I couldn't make sense of it, and my heart was pounding in my chest as I tried to hide my skin from Athen's view. The cracking of my skin was accompanied by a strange sound, like the sound of cracking ice. It was a sound that was both eerie and mesmerizing. I quickly crossed my legs, hoping to cover up the green light before it could be noticed.

The skin buzzed and snapped. The fuck? He looked. Small snakes slithered on his fingers and whipped around his hands. Over the top. Around to the palm. Between the fingers and underneath the nails. But not on the skin. Fuck no, they were in the skin. Like tattoos. Living tattoos. Red, green, blue, white tattoos that were living in his fuckin’ skin. But under the flesh like worms. Worms with fangs. His skin moved in ripples when they moved. Itched and clenched when they wrapped tight around the bones. Burned when they pushed out to inch along his nails. Attacking the octopus on his wrist and tearing it in two. Squeezing the mermaids into a bloody pulp and twisting the sailors until their head

Officer Smith asks, staring at me and believing that I'm a extra-terrestrial. "Mwen fenk soti nan magazen likè a epi mwen tounen lakay mwen. Non, mwen pa etranje oswa mwen gen yon maladi po. Mwen te fèt ak koulè po sa a ak tout fanmi mwen genyen li. (I just came from the liquor store and I'm heading back home. No, I'm not an alien or have a skin condition. I was born with this skin color and my whole family has it.)" I explain myself to the officers.

BENEATH THE FACADE Behind the façade of wealth and power, a web of secret awaits Chapter 25 beneath Emily's POV: Saturday afternoons like this were rare—quiet, unhurried, indulgent. I was curled up in the center of my bed, legs tucked beneath a fleece blanket, the soft hum of my air conditioner barely audible beneath the sound of dialogue playing from my laptop screen. My favorite series was midway through its new season, and I was already two episodes deep, with no plans of stopping anytime soon.

“I already knew as soon as I laid eyes on that guy, honestly? If you didn't take it, I would; I want all the details when I get back, I love you and Ther, don't be late! was the last thing she said before blowing air kisses and walking out the door. Pedro was on another planet that day, I haven't seen him like this for a long time, honestly? I don't think I've ever seen him like this before; I always saw him suffer a lot in this area, mainly because of all the prejudice around him; he was a very handsome young man, he had porcelain white skin, sometimes it looked like he had never had a pimple in his life, ebony black hairs that contrasted but curiously matched perfectly with his tone; tall,

With haste, she inquired directly. "Ah, Doctor Johnson. I did not wish to trouble you, but I find myself in need of your help. The young heir of the illustrious Shaw lineage seeks a masterful doctor with the ability to cure Dermatographia Urticaria. His condition surpasses that of mere dermatographism." Mr. Turk divulged. 'He is attempting to rid himself of his ailment, but why? I am aware that he can already make contact with Abigail, as they have engaged in intercourse. Could it be that he is unable to touch his own son? Despite being family?' Kelsa pondered to herself.