Chapter 8 Scars

• I knew it and yet, I couldn’t bring myself to stop looking at her. As soon as I left here, I would focus only on Mavy. I wouldn’t think about the princess who slept in the room at the top of the staircase. I wouldn’t wonder about the books on her shelves. I wouldn’t wonder if any of them were scandalous. No, I would remember that it’s only Mavy and I against the world.
• Slowly, I made my way to her bed. Mahogany wood was the theme in this packhouse but more so in her room. Her bed matched her vanity and the frame around her mirror. I smirked, Princess had grown up in the lap of luxury.
• She deserves nothing less.
• I took a seat at the edge of the bed and watched her continue to rifle through supplies. When she had everything she needed, she turned from the mirror and faced me.
• Clenching her jaw, she straightened her back and closed the distance between us. She hesitated for a second, only a second, before she placed the supplies beside me on the bed. She took a step toward me, successfully finding a place between my knees. I swallowed at her sudden closeness but she didn’t bat an eye.
• I haven’t been this close to anyone, not since…
• She didn’t look at me, but with her this close, I got a better look at her. I was close enough to see the curve of her eyelashes and the light dusting of freckles that started just above her cheeks, spreading across her nose.
• I watched her slender wrist as she held a cloth. I watched as she dipped it into a metal tin containing a liquid that had a Goddess-forsaken smell.
• She focused on my face and I hissed as she pressed it against my cheek, causing a sharp pain. I couldn’t recall even being kicked in the face. She grasped at the back of my head to keep me still. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her as she pulled me close. My throat went dry as her fingers slipped around my neck and ran through my hair. I didn’t know much about women, but at that moment, I knew I was in trouble.
• “You smell of blood. Were you hurt before you came here?” Adealine said, her voice breaking through my thoughts. I scoffed.
• “No, I kill for a living.”
• Her eyes widened a fraction but she didn’t ask me anymore questions. We sat in comfortable silence as she cleaned up my face. I flinched but didn’t make any more noise as she dabbed, wiped, and turned my head to every angle possible.
• “Remove your shirt,” she said nonchalantly.
• “What?” I asked. I may or may not have been appalled.
• “Remove your shirt,” she repeated.
• “Why?” I asked cautiously.
• “Because my father hurt you and I need to see it in order to tend to it.”
• “No, I—” but I didn’t get to finish my sentence because the moment she registered that I had said no, she flung into action.
• I tried to block her to keep her off of me but it didn’t work. She was fast, she grabbed the hem of my shirt and pulled it up and over my head. When she gave me a stern look, I couldn’t do anything but comply and pull my arms out. She tossed it onto the bed and turned back to me.
• Her gaze dropped down the length of my body. She gasped and I lifted my nose into the air. Smugly, I watched her while her gaze roamed down my muscled torso but when the look in her eyes went from admiration to worry, I lowered my gaze. Looking down at myself, I realized what she was looking at. Scars, old scars that hadn’t faded over the last three years. They were still an enraged red color and slightly raised to the touch.
• “It isn’t as bad as it looks,” I say. I needed to figure out how I was going to turn her attention away from them. I could see the questions in her eyes but I didn’t want to talk about any of it.
• “I tensed my stomach with every kick. It could have been a lot worse. Look at me, there’s barely a scratch. I may or may not have broken a rib but I’ll be fine. It’s nothing I can’t handle,” I shrugged.
• “You’ll be fine?” She asked, her voice was oddly quiet. I looked up at her. Her chin trembled, her eyes burned angrily, and her shoulders shook ever so slightly. “You were kicked repeatedly by my father, I know it hurts. There are bruises all over you, and I’m fairly certain your eye will be closed shut in the morning.”
• “How would you know? I could just be the strongest man around.”
• She didn’t say anything but her eyes dropped to my chest. She dipped the cloth again and pressed it against the scrapes and cuts. I fought the urge to growl as she took care of them.
• I’m glad she didn’t ask about my scars.
• I don’t want to look weak to her.
• Why hadn’t she answered my question?
• “How would you know what a kick from the Alpha feels like?” I asked.
• “I-I…” she stuttered incoherently before she looked away. I watched as she tried to mask her expression. I didn’t like not being able to look into her eyes while she talked. I reached out for her but she dodged me and went back to vanity.