Page 49

She tilted her head until her blond locks hid her face. “I’m not pretty. Master liked to draw blood.”

I hadn’t gawked at her the day she’d stripped bare in Jax’s room, but I vaguely recalled the scars on her breasts. And then there were the more noticeable ones on her arms and legs. I lifted my arm and held it out for her to see.

“I have scars too.”

She peeked at me from the corner of her eye, and the long, jagged mark on the inside of my forearm caught her attention. She ran a finger up my arm, the pad of her fingertip examining the ugly scar left behind from the time I’d slashed my wrists.

“What happened?”

I turned my arm over and displayed the marks from years of digging my nails into my skin. “I did this to myself.”

She blinked several times. “But…why?”

“I’ve been hurt, too. This is the way I dealt with it.”

“By hurting yourself?”

“I used to. Rafe doesn’t let me do it anymore.”

“He’s very protective of you.” Her tone lifted with a note of approval as if he’d managed to win her over in my absence.

“He’s a littletooprotective,” I said. “That’s why I’ve been stuck in this room. He says I have a self-destructive streak.”

I hated to admit it, but he was right. No one could beat on me as much as I beat on myself.

Tense silence followed, so I turned to the magazine as an ice-breaker. “Guess I should pick one, huh?” As I turned the pages, she watched in silence, never giving her opinion unless I asked for it.

“I don’t like the sleeves. What do you think?”

She shrugged. “It’s a summer wedding. You’re probably right to go strapless.”

“How about this one?” I pointed to a strapless gown with a ruffled skirt.

“I like the top.”

Another flip of the page, and my heart jumped. This dress was also strapless, but the skirt flowed rather than puffed out. I fell in love with the lace pattern and beadwork on the bottom half of the gown. It was understated, classy, the bodice cut in a way to add the perfect hint of cleavage for someone with my modest bust size.

There was only one problem, and it was one I’d noticed from the moment I opened the magazine. Most of these were only available in white, and the designs that had a hint of color, or an accent hue weren’t the right fit for me.

“I like that one,” Angel said as Rafe opened the door.

I snapped the magazine shut. He wasn’t supposed to see my wedding dress. Was I supposed to give him a model number or something? I looked to Angel for help, but she’d already left my side. At the sight of Rafe, she skedaddled from the room before I could utter a “thanks” or “goodbye.”

“Find something you like?” Rafe asked.

“Sort of.”

“What do you mean? If you don’t like them, I can find another magazine. Whatever you want, babe. I want your dress to be perfect.”

I set the magazine aside. “Most of these wedding gowns are…a bit traditional.”

He furrowed his brows. “You don’t want traditional?”

“It’s not that.” I thumbed through the pages at my side with a frown. “I just never saw myself in white.”

“Why not?” He sat next to me, mattress sinking under his muscular body.

“White means pure.” I met his eyes. “Innocent. I’m neither of those things.”