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Without thought, I sit up and amble my way over to the door. My heart is knocking vigorously as I stand there.He could be asleep.
“What am I doing?” I mumble to myself. I question it, but my hand still curls around the cold knob and twists. I shut my eyes, hoping my conscience can talk me out of my impulsive choices. When I get nothing, I take that as a sign to open the door gently, sure to be as quiet as a mouse. A slight breeze swarms past the crease, and his scent pours in. I look into his dark room; the only light spilling in comes from the soft glow of the moon through the balcony doors.
Then, my gaze sets on his figure. He is laying shirtless in bed, his arm bent behind his head, while the other rests on his muscular abs. My mouth waters as the ache between my legs throbs. I step into the room and he remains still, unfazed by my presence; the only movement is the faint rise and fall of his chest. He’s asleep.
His gun rests on the nightstand, and I hope he doesn’t wake and shoot me on sight.
I could lay next to him—maybe I’ll finally get some sleep, too.What if he kicks me out of the bed?
I ask myself this, but I still stroll at a snail's pace to his side. I peer over his body momentarily before my stomach clenches. My eyes grow wide, and my breath catches, like someone slammed their foot on my throat as I look at his chest.
His scars.
Chapter 11
Anita
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I’m frozen in place, standing over Ronan as I look over his body, pain evident in my expression.
I knew Victor had inflicted wounds from when he was tortured, but I didn’t think it was...
I didn’t think there were so many, it’s as if Victor took his chest and used it in a sick game of tic-tac-toe. Like he was enjoying the torture so much that he dug too deep on some more of his chest. There’s not one spot that’s free of a laceration.
Emotion builds and burns at the brink of my eyes—I can’t imagine how much they’ve suffered. I can only imagine how Carter’s body looked afterward. My father saved me from that horrible reality. He didn’t want my last memory of him deformed and brutally murdered. My brother and Ronan were innocent, and they suffered at the hands of vile men who found pleasure in their pain. They only wanted to bring safety to the world. And this is what they got in return.
The world can be so cruel. Because now look at what he’s become. The monster no one wishes to dream of.
My throat tightens, and it’s taking every ounce of energy to not cradle myself and...cry. I could never do that. I haven't shed a tear in years, but this hurts. The memory of me reaching my hand into his suit to touch him replays in my mind.
This is the reason.
He was protecting himself, his trauma that he may be ashamed of. The burn behind my eyes turns into a strain and my eyelids fill with tears. I kneel at his level, lowering my head, and I press a kiss to the first mark I see, below his firm pec. His skin is so pleasant on my lips, so smooth. A shallow breath escapes me as I apply another one and another. Then, I lick it gently and place another soft peck onto his skin—the truest words play through my mind.
Your scars are beautiful.