Under Your Scars (Under Your Scars, #1)

by Ariel N. Anderson

“It means that I’m going to make you want me as bad as I want you. I’m going to make you fantasize about how it feels to have my fingers in your greedy little cunt. I’m going to make you beg for my tongue against your clit. I’m going to make you so wet and needy for me that you’ll do anything to get me to relieve that hot, achy feeling inside you. Once you admit you want me, that’s when I’ll show my appreciation. With every part of me. On every part of you.”

I’d be lost without you by my side.

“It’s in case you ever need help,” he explains. I lift the chain to examine it. “The charm attached is a silent panic alarm. You turn it on by clicking it five times. You’ll feel it vibrate, and it will send me an alert with your exact location. If you press it, I’ll come. No matter what.”

“I don’t want to kill you, angel. I want to keep you all to myself. You’d better take off those rose-colored glasses and accept that the only place you belong is in my black heart.”

“They need to know what happens when they touch what’s mine, Elena. They’re going to convert religions, because they won’t be praying to God, they’ll be praying to me. Begging for my fucking mercy after I hunt them all down and show them the true meaning of fear.”

“If you’re so concerned about my humanity, Elena, then reach into my soul and find it, because I’m not sure I have any left.”

Eight. I’ve given him eight souls since September sixth. It should have only been one. It should have only been me.

“Mr. Reeves thinks you’re pretty too, ‘cause he won’t stop looking at you.”

I’m not in this because I have some indescribable obsession with Elena. I know exactly why I desire her in my soul, and I’ll tell her about it one day, because she deserves to know why I call her angel.

“God, you’re so fucking wet, angel.”

“Elena, let me be very clear.” He stands up and leans against the desk, and then rubs his thumb over my cheek while I look up at him. “I will never, ever deny you anything. I don’t give a fuck how much it costs. You can buy the entire Chanel catalog and I wouldn’t bat an eye. Actually, please do that. My cock is already getting hard again thinking about you spending all my money.”

“Ellie, if you don’t think I’m going to spoil you rotten you are sorely mistaken.”

“You listen to me, you fuckhead. If you ever touch her again, I will kill you. Do you fucking hear me? I will make you regret your entire miserable existence and then I will kill you. Slowly. Don’t even fucking breathe in her goddamn direction or I will rip your heart out of your chest with my bare hands.”

No way you arent the stalker too bro

His voice was so quiet, I don’t think he meant for me to hear it, and with that, any hope I had of him being my future shatters.

His heavy boots stomp against the floor and he kneels next to me. I feel the back of his gloved fingers brush along my cheek to move a strand of hair that's been stuck to my face from tears. “Who do I need to kill?”

“He didn’t mean it,” I mumble into her hair. “Why are you defending him? You’re supposed to be on my side!” “He wasn’t talking about you. I’d bet my life on it.”

This confirms it for me tbh

It’s a shame I’m already destined for Hell, because it’s not where angels belong. But I’m not going anywhere without her.

I pause in front of him. His stare is as unwavering as mine. Christian Reeves is not a man that’s afraid of many things, but he should be afraid of me. I send my fist into his face, my knuckles leaving streaks of blood across his skin.

HUHUHUH and ya lost me

The man across from me has said nothing. He doesn’t react. He doesn’t fight. He just…takes it.

I lean over to pick up a reflective shard from the ground.

They are the same person and the book is going to hurt me

The hardest part about falling in love with an angel isn’t making her accept the fact that I kill people. It isn’t even keeping the identity under my mask a secret from her.

It’s accepting the fact that I am not Christian Reeves. I am not Christian Reeves. I am not Christian Reeves. I. Am. Not. Christian. Reeves.

He chooses to celebrate his historic success with a bottle of red wine and his tongue on my clit because, in his words, I’m ‘the single best pairing with a good Cabernet’.

“Shut up! I hate you! Get away from me you sick fuck! You’re a twisted fucking psychopath, and I hope you die. I hope you never experience love or happiness, and you die young and alone.”

When I run out of windows, I count my tears instead.

believe that I love you. My love isn’t perfect, and it isn’t beautiful. It’s broken and scarred and ugly, but all of it is yours. I will always be yours.

“Listen to me,” I plead. “I love you. I will love you forever. Even when we’re nothing but bones in the ground, I will find you in the afterlife and cherish you like I always have. I will hold you and kiss you and fall asleep with you wrapped in my arms. I will spoil you and give you a wedding ring with my last name to match. I will buy you yachts and islands and mansions all over the world so you can feel safe.

but the last time I tried to get him a wheelchair he threw his dentures at me. Took them right out of his mouth and hit me in the forehead with them.

HE DID WHAT YOUR FOREHEAD Homie got bit from a distance

“Bleh. Smokers. Promise me, Christian, you won’t smoke when you’re older.” “I promise, mommy,”

Then Edwin’s there, and I look up at him. “Edwin, when are mommy and daddy coming back?”

Safe isn’t a place. It’s the people that love you.

I’m in love with a man who would move the sun with his bare hands if it meant giving me a little shade.”

“I love you.” I say through gritted teeth, her hair wrapped tight around my fist. “I love you so much it makes me insane. I love you so much it makes me dangerous. I love you so much that I would burn this world for you and all the people in it just to keep you all to myself. Do you understand me? If it comes down to a choice, you will choose me. I don’t give a fuck if it costs the remainder of your soul. You are mine and only mine.”

My soul would love you if we lived on different continents and spoke different languages. My soul would be tethered to you across oceans and mountains and harrowing canyons as black as my heart. My soul would be yours if I pulled the trigger the night we met, because not even death could keep us apart. God couldn’t keep me from you, because God isn’t real, but you are, and that’s all the motivation I would have needed to find you.”

And then I lick along the length of him, still clothed. He lets out a guttural, ferocious grunt, and trembles beneath my tongue. He looks down at me, bright red and completely embarrassed. Because I made him cum in his pants.

Just to get back at him for nailing me in the face, I wink at him, and subtly give him two middle fingers.

“When I was a kid, something really bad happened to me. I was really angry and sad. Those feelings like to fight a lot.” I stretch out my arm and use my fingers to trace along the scars. “All of these remind me of when I was in the middle of the battle and didn’t know how to stop them.”

“Okay, baby. Just…turn around and count to one hundred, and I’ll get you some pancakes, okay?” “But daddy, I don’t know how to count to one hundred.” “That’s okay, babygirl, just turn around and count as high as you can.”

No way NO FUCKING WAY All of this… all of this hell.. All of what she went through for him.. all she was going through for them

I hold my angel to my chest and wait for Caroline to reach ten before I put the gun to my head. And like I was always meant to, I pull the trigger.

Christian Thomas Reeves February 20, 1983-May 8, 2020 Son. Husband. Father

“Grandpa, when are mommy and daddy coming back?” With a shaky breath, I hold the handkerchief to my face, hug her to my chest, and weep with the angels.