Page 82 of Beneath Scarred Vows

In the center is a large bed covered with black silk sheets. Various items hang on the walls—whips, ropes, restraints—and a cabinet stands open, revealing an array of toys and things I can't even name.

"What is this place?" I ask, though I have a pretty good idea.

Ares closes the door behind us and deadbolts it. "This is the lounge's private room. The Hades suite. Only VIPs have access to it." He removes his mask, setting it on a small table near the door. "You can take yours off too, or you can leave it on if you wish," he says with a sly grin. "No one can get in now."

I slip the mask off, oddly feeling exposed despite the fact that we're completely alone. "So this is why you brought me? To show me your secret sex dungeon?" I say with a smile.

Ares approaches me slowly.

"Actually," he says, voice low and dark, "I brought you here for you."

I blink. "Uhh, for me?"

His hands wrap around me and he pulls me close to him. "I'm going to show you that your body isn't something to hide. Not from me. Not even from yourself."

Something cold seizes my chest. I freeze, my entire body tensing under his touch.

"What... what do you mean?" The words come strained.

But he sees it. Of course he sees it. That's the problem with Ares, he sees everything.

My husband's dark eyes scan my face, reading every flicker of emotion I'm trying desperately to conceal. His arms loosen, and he steps back, giving me space I didn't ask for but desperately need.

"That," he says, pointing at my face. "That right there."

I swallow hard. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He moves toward the wall and flicks a switch. The lights change to the purple shade I've seen since arriving, but now they are illuminating the mirrors running along one wall.

I shift and instinctively angle my right side away.

"See?" He gestures toward me. "Every time. Every single time."

I cross my arms over my chest. "I don't?—"

"You do," he interrupts. "Every time we have sex, you close the blinds. You make sure all the lights are off. You position yourself so I can't see your right side. You hold your breath when I touch your scars, like you're still waiting for me to recoil."

Heat rises to my face, but it's different, it's grounded in shame. I want to deny it, but the words stick in my throat.

"That ends tonight," he says, his voice softening.

I shake my head, panic rising in my chest. "Ares, please?—"

"I'm not asking, Katerina." There's no cruelty in his tone, only determination. He approaches me again, slowly, like I'm a wounded animal he's afraid of startling. "Look at me."

I raise my eyes to meet his, and what I see there is something that makes my heart hammer against my ribs.

"You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," he says, his fingers gently tilting my chin up. "And I can't allow you—my own wife, the future mother of my children—to not see that."

His words hit me like a physical blow. I've never heard him refer to me as the mother of his children even if that's been the unspoken plan. It's the first time he breathed it into existence.

Before I can process it, he continues.

"You see only burn scars." His hand moves to my right side, resting over the fabric of my dress where he knows my scars begin. "I seeyou. Your story. Your beauty. Your survival. What makes you, you." His voice drops. "It's time you see it, too."

I feel tears threatening at the corners of my eyes. "I can't," I whisper, blinking rapidly.

He moves behind me, towering over me like my protector. He leans down and speaks into my ear. "Do you trust me?"