Under Your Scars: A Dark Romance Novel Reviews Novels & Stories

I am as exciting and predictable as a loaf of sliced white bread. Anyway, back to my story. The traffic started moving, and off he went, leaving behind the lingering scent of tobacco. At work, I had trouble concentrating, and spent most of the day creating racy vignettes in my head with us as the feature characters. Let's be honest; I have a very vivid imagination. The closest I've been to a hot steamy encounter is courtesy of the pages of my endless supply of paperback romance novels. I'm not the kind of girl that attracts hot, sexy men. In fact, I've been called an ice queen by more than one guy. But when I'm in the middle of one of my books, I am sensual, daring, sarcastically humorous, a

He will hate seeing me like this, and the thought brought a smile that touched the corner of my lips before I let the darkness claim me. . _ Have you checked out the new book? Twisted Marriage- A Dark MMF MAFIA ROMANCE A. Gupta

He didn't just own the city; he controlled its lifeblood. Her trembling hands reached for his shirt, the first button slipping through her fingers. She fumbled with it for a few moments before finally unbuttoning it, revealing his taut muscles beneath. The scars that came on her sight were marred on his skin like they were symbols of battles fought and won, a constant reminder of who he was—a conqueror in the underworld. One particularly nasty scar ran across his ribs, the stitches still visible in the dim light.

Layla scrambled back in terror, but it was too late. My claws ripped her dress, revealing the pale skin of her back. It was smooth. Flawless. There was no scar. And Myrna... Myrna had a hideous scar running from her left shoulder to her right hip. The scar I had touched a thousand times, but never once asked where it came from. "Moon Goddess," I collapsed. "What have I done?" "You regret it now?" Layla sat on the floor, her eyes filled with malicious glee. "It's too late, Clark. It's far too late."

“He only kisses me when he’s drunk. Otherwise, I’m just a shadow to him.” The words punched me in the gut. It was like reading my own thoughts. Page after page was filled with confessions. Pain. Craving. Punishment. There was obsession written between every line, both hers and his. And it was Caelum. She called him C. It was always C. I read until my eyes burned. Until my legs went numb. Until I felt like I knew her—or maybe I was her. Reborn. Replaced. What the hell happened to her?

With each step, came the desire to peel the cover off her body and bury myself inside her. I let my mind wander. Then as we stopped into the halogen lights my eyes captured one of the rugged scars on her chest. Wait? Isn't that the edge of a scar? I didn't see it clearly under the moonlight. I squinted, staring curiously at all I could see beneath the cover.

" She... She re-opened dad's case? Why? Isn't she the one who told me that I should stop fighting against that invisible enemy of us? Why would she... Do this?" I stood up even if I feel like I would fall in any moment. I accidentally passed by a mirror and saw my scar. The memories that I buried six feet under the ground starts to flash like a flood. The screams in pain, the culprit's laugh, dad's cry in pain, our maids' shouts, and my cries. God, I need to stop this again. If this kept on flashing back, I'll lost myself again. And I don't want that to happen.

"What, is Mom not as important as some junk locket? You know what happens if her condition worsens." "I know." I cut him off, my voice cracking as I crouched on the floor. "No one knows better than me when she loses it." My old scars burned as I recalled it. Like a volatile child, she'd speak kindly one moment, and the next, brand me with a hot poker. The smell of scorched flesh haunted my nightmares. Andre fell silent, knowing how diligently I had cared for Evelyn, but a moment later, he hardened again. "I got it, you don't want her to get better."