Under Your Scars Trigger Warnings Novels & Stories

With her eyes resting on the fire, she use her nails to scratch the spot he ahd kissed and blood was forming on the red line her nails had continually and roughly dragged. A gently door losing behind her didn’t faze her one bit. She felt a shadow lingering behind her. “Thank you, Khalid. I didn’t think you would take such a long time to call Ambrose.” “He was asleep. No wolf like to be disturbed when he sleeps.” Zara smiled. She relax back on the chair and speak eerily. “Prepare the water. I want it to scorch me.” “Are you sure?” Khalid’s voice becomes sad. “His touch feels like thousands of insects are running down my body. I need to get it off me. I feel dirty.”

My head spun, my vision pulsed, and I realised too late what he was tracing. My scars. The scars that he and his pack had inflicted. “Don’t,” I whispered. I reached for his hand; he ripped the shirt open, buttons popping and rolling across the floor, only stilling when they met the puddle of my sick. He dug his nail in, scoring a new line over the old one that ran from my breasts to where the waistband of my jeans would sit. I felt acutely aware of my state of undress, goosebumps pimpling my skin.

“Don’t you dare act ignorant!, I know you aren’t happy I am getting married to your dad. But can you at least act mature and not do sensible stuffs” “If I say I understand you, I would be lying” I said not knowing where this is heading. “I know you planned to ruin my wedding” she said. ==+”Yeah, I wanted to but someone did that for me already” I said that inwardly and smirked. “Scarlett.just let me be” “You won’t like what is coming you if you try something like this again” she threatened. I moved closer to her, really close..she blinks her eyes in fear.

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?

someone asked, frowning. I held up my phone and showed them the post about falling in love with someone who already belongs to another. "She meddled in my life, lied to everyone, and even deleted messages from Alexander's phone, ruining the birthday surprise I had planned. There's more proof right here. "My professional conduct doesn't apply to people like her. "I suggest all you respected ladies keep away from someone like this." Camila's face turned pale as she saw the cold and even scornful looks around her.

My words trembled at the edges, barely louder than a whisper. "When the competition started, someone attacked me. They warned me not to win," I added, lowering my gaze as my legs began to tremble. Fear was crawling its way up my spine, one slow inch at a time. The memory of those eyes—cold, threatening—flashed across my mind. "I can’t shake the feeling that it’s connected to that pack."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Please, dear, lovely readers!!! This isn't for the faint of heart! I placed trigger warnings before starting this book, and I'm saying it again that this book gets darker as it goes on. I'll be careful, but please, I don't want to traumatize anyone. You mean the world to me. ---M*M Assault content ahead. ---Sacred place desecration. ---Violent murder. ---Sociopathic lead. Pass, skip, don't read! If you find these distressing. PLEASE!!!

Contrary to popular belief not all scars can be healed on a shifter. A reminder of the love I cherished, the love my mate couldn't return. The reason for my other scars – was the punishment placed on me before my exile. By order of the king, my father... My eyes settled on my dick now hidden beneath the white towel where the evidence from the lick of the whip tip dipped in silver & wolfsbane marred my junk. It disgusted me most of the time when I felt the three raised welts that still lingered there a reminder that I could have been less of a man than I already felt.

It is so hard to trust again after the last thread of faith in humanity and inside me was burned into ashes. Trusting Dad and Kuya was tough. But then, they were like a ray of sunshine, so bright. Somewhere out there was brighter though. It outshines all of the things that keeps me from the dark. I undressed myself in front of the full-length mirror. I can't help but to stare at my body I traced a scar from my right thigh up to my waste and to my back. It is purple with a dark shade of grey. It looks like a vein, though.

The cool air against my skin sends a shiver down my spine. I try to keep my hands at my sides, resisting the urge to cover myself. “I’m ashamed,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. The lingering effects of the marijuana makes honesty easier. “I’m embarrassed for you to see my scars…” I trail off, unable to meet his eyes. I hadn’t considered this part before—exposing the lashes on my back, the healing burn on my chest. These visible reminders of my trauma suddenly feel like insurmountable barriers.