Novel & Cerita Under Your Scars: A Dark Romance Novel Reviews

At twenty-one, Pera was untouched, pure, untouched, until tonight. "You ran into my world tonight, little virgin," Marcus growled, voice dark velvet over steel. His huge hand fisted the front of her soaked white sundress, the one that had clung to her curves like a second skin in the downpour. "No more running, I'm claiming what's mine." Pera trembled, heart hammering against her ribs. She had come to the city for a fresh start, only to collide with him, the most dangerous man in the underworld. One dance at his forbidden club had led here. "Marcus... I've never…"

The screen lit up. The white light hit his face dead-on. For one second, everything was clear. I saw the sharp angle of his cheekbone. I saw the scar cutting through his left eyebrow. I saw the golden-brown eyes that looked like they belonged to a wolf, not a man. I don’t even know his name. Thank God. My eyes darted across his body and I shivered in pleasure. Damn. Look at the way his shoulders hunched. He looks like he eats wolves for breakfast.

, I came out of my car and I wasn’t surprised when Scarlett came out wearing a long face. “You bitch!” She said as she walked towards me. “Can we do this later, I got work. Thank you” I said dryly and made to enter my car but she was fast to touch me by my hand. I quickly removed her hand from my body like it was a plague and looked at her angrily. “Never in your life, I repeat, never touch me with that hand you uses to give my dad a hand job” Scarlett looked pretty embarrassed as I said that but she was quick to cover it up with a scoff.

Seymour? Seymour Rios's Point of View I can't quite imagine that someone would dare to hit me. And most like girls! This was the first time I experienced someone punching me in the face so hard. It doesn't seem like a woman. Her hand is heavy. "Bro, that girl is so amazing!" Isaac keeps on doing that. He repeatedly praised that a****n woman! "She's beautiful." Max said while focusing on the book he was reading. "She's hot, bro." Calyx smiled. "I like her." He added.

I guess that’s why I have my scar, a reminder of the fact that I’ll never be as strong as I need to be. As strong as I want to be. Maybe I deserve the scar…. I-i know I deserve my scar it’s all my fault. I… I need to search the body. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, collected the supplies and got to my feet, stumbling backwards as my backpack settled on my shoulders.

She says over the frozen winds that blow while they ride. Of course, Scar says nothing for he knew that she is lying to some degree, after all, his own feelings are in a state of conflux. Though his attention turns to the third wheel of their squad of abyssal knights. A low-born elf by the name of Romare. Low-born elves are always out for themselves and want to meet their own ends by any means that they can. Scar keeps a close eye on him out of experiences with his position as well as not knowing a low-born that wasn’t out for himself. Scar’s head nudges in the low-born’s direction. His voice carries over with the vortex of wind just like when he spoke with Ivory. “You ready, Romare?” The lo

She remembered being told that it wasn’t her fault. She remembered seeing a tall guy standing beside Jace’s grave, his back towards her. He was probably his younger brother whom she never had a chance to meet. She remembered everything. She looked down at the scar on her forearm, there were a few scars on her body that left marks. They reminded her of that horrible night. The one on her forehead was nearly invisible now, but the rest were the same. They didn’t hurt but the memories did, the nightmares did. Her older sister had been her support in all of this, her sister, her parents, Faith, and all her friends.

"I'll find her. And when I do. I'll beg. Beg on bended knee. Go where she goes. But show Harrison Blackwood is not the devil Maya portrayed him to be. Be the man Leya needs." Alone, finally, in her life, the therapist cocked her head to one side. "That is your promise. Now hold on." And as Harrison left that office that night, his chest aching but his heart seething once more, there was one thing echoing in his ears above the rest: He had scars that would haunt him for a lifetime. And out of those scars had been driven home a promise — a promise that would be the refrain of his years.

She asked curiously but something doesn't add up. I mean I have asked him about the scars and he insinuated that it was BDSM gone wrong and honestly I didn't think much of it because that was when we just lost our parents and he was a little rebellious at that point but I still think she got the wrong guy... I mean now I understand why she fled immediately she saw him shirtless but anyone could have a similar scar, right?

Once his jeans and underwear were off, I started to get on top of him, but he turned us over, “It’s my turn. I want to open my present.” He unlaced my negligee and slowly pushed the spaghetti straps down, off my shoulders, to expose my breasts. He lowered the negligee until I could kick it off, then he stood on his knees and hissed as he looked down at me laying and looking at him, “Damn, I can’t believe you are mine. You’re perfect.” I asked, “You don’t mind the scars?” He shook his head, “The scars are not who you are. They are just part of your story. I love every part of you. Especially your story because I get to be a part of it.”