Under Your Scars Trigger Warnings Novels & Stories

I turn my head back. He takes the towel and wraps me in it while also wrapping me up in his arms. My breathing gets heavy as I can feel his firm chest against my back. Sparks are trailing up and down my body. I am on fire, and he knows it. He leans down and whispers in my left ear. "Don't ever hide yourself from me. You're my blessing from the goddess." He kisses down my neck and stops when he gets to my scar. I'm still holding my hand over it. He removes my hand, "I'm sure we'll do something about this." He kisses the black scar a tingle runs through me. I moan; I'm turned on, and I know he can smell it.

“I could make you an ointment that would help you with the scars.” “Thank you, but it’s fine.” He shakes his head, watching me with a devastated expression. “I know that you know about the fact that those scars appear only if it happens for a long period of time. They say that it is like your wolf clawed you from the inside. So, as a reminder to myself and also as my punishment for having put him through it, I will continue to wear them. It also raises rumours in the pack and risks blowing my cover, but it’s still fine.”

The Adversary Dark Prince (POV) When people notice the jagged scar on my arm, their eyes often widen with worry, and they jump to conclusions that are far from the truth. It's a common reaction, especially in a world where scars usually hint at pain or violence. But this scar tells a different story—it's not a sign of suffering; it's a symbol of something beautiful and meaningful in my life. Each curve and line of the scar represents resilience and a deep bond that has lasted through challenges, showing that not all scars are reminders of hurt. Instead, it reminds me of love and the strength I've gained along my journey.

My eyes fall on the tiny scar on my wrist; I quickly look away, fingers unconsciously touching it and scratching lightly. I can’t. I’m ugly. The scars are long and ugly. No one can see them. He would surely laugh or say something cruel about them. Tristan senses my hesitation and steps closer. “Strip.” My brain screams. What’s he going to do when he sees what my body looks like? Will he throw me out? Will he make others laugh at me? The room suddenly feels too hot, too small, too suffocating. My breath shortens as I slowly back into the corner, my back hitting the wall.

It looked like a schedule, but as I opened it, I realized it was something much more valuable. “What is this?” “A survival guide,” Marcus replied. “A list of Lucian’s triggers. He hates the smell of lilies—it reminds him of the hospital after the crash. He hates the sound of whispering; he thinks everyone is plotting against him. He hates the taste of peppermint. And most importantly, do not touch the scarred skin on his temples. If you do, he will snap.” I looked down at the list. It was a map of a broken man’s mind. “Why are you helping me?”

I whispered to the empty room, my voice trembling with panic. My hand moved frantically over my belly, and I lifted my clothes, revealing a scar that looked as if it had been torn apart and sewn back together. The sight of it sent a shockwave through me, and I screamed, "AHHHHH!" My body reacted violently to the horror. I turned on the bed, scratching at my skin, pulling at my hair, desperate to rid myself of the pain and revulsion. My screams echoed through the room, a raw and primal outpouring of my anguish.

The weather was cold justifying the oversized hoodie and pink thick socks she was clad in. She swiped through her gallery, looking at the pictures taken at Ireland. Group pictures, pictures of her and June, pictures of her with Ivy, pictures of her with Jordan, pictures of her and Daniel. Her legs brushed each other as the memory of the night of Truth or Dare ran through her mind. She jumped down from her bed, disposing the empty yoghurt bottle in the waste bin closest to her. She climbed back up, taking another yoghurt with it her, glad she collected two from Luke.

THE NEXT PART OF THIS BOOK IS GRAPHIC AND TRIGGERING. It includes: -r*pe -s*icidal thoughts -self h*rm -s*icide attempts -sexual ab*se Please don't read on if any of these bother you, it will get intense and upsetting. I'm warning you now so anyone who may be triggered by these themes doesn't walk into it without knowing beforehand. Marcus pov Friday 1st November 2019 *********************************

Eros I opened my eyes and saw blood on my hands. The blood was all over my body. I looked everywhere and saw glass shards, smoke and people looking at me with shock evident on their faces, some even had worry. I looked at myself through one of the shattered glass and screamed out of shock. It was not me. Blood and wounds all over my face. My beauty….it's gone.

I could feel his member pushing on my thigh through the jeans. He lifted me up slightly removing my shirt. His eyes widened as he saw the scar covering from my shoulder to the bottom of my ribs. I had forgotten about it in the moment. I could sense his anger rolling off him as he focused on the imperfections of my body. He leaned in and kissed me passionately. I felt his bare chest press against mine as my body gushed, soaking my panties. A deep groan came from his chest as if he knew exactly what he was doing to me.