Page 62 of Dreadful

Oh, shit.

As soon as I got home tonight, I washed off my caked-on makeup. He’s seeing the scars of my past, and I’m so not fucking ready for that. I’m terrified of his questions, terrified of what could happen if he finds out. My mind begs me to flee.

But instead, I freeze.

He sits up again and turns my chin to inspect my scars.

And Ilethim.

A different type of pained look etches into his features, so unlike the one that filled his face just moments ago while I was stitching him. As his gaze travels down my neck, concern widens his eyes, and his nostrils flare.

He pushes my curls over my shoulder, but he thankfully doesn’t insist on going past my shirt’s neckline. I know what he sees. I’ve suffered from seeing my reflection every day for the past fifteen years. The jagged red edges. The pits of purple and pink in various shades that only reveal the surface of how deep my wounds go.

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows roughly, as the rest of him is deadly still. His gaze locks with mine, and I recognize the same fury that I’ve seen in my own. His whisper is terrifyingly calm, heavy with promise, and latent with threat.

“Who did this to you?”

Scene 18

TAKE IT OR LEAVE IT

Sever

Talia stills underneath my fingertips. When she’d first realized I was touching her scars, she was obviously nervous how I’d react. Then she leaned in and submitted to my touch in a humbling display of trust.

And I fucked up.

I couldn’t hide my rage, and as soon as I growled the question, she’d snapped out of whatever hypnosis I’d had her under.

“Who says it was a ‘who?’” Her eyes narrow. “Besides, I could ask you the same question.”

She places her hand on my chest, and my cock jolts. I’ve been half-hard for her ever since she straddled me earlier. But when she pushes against me, pain radiates from the stab wound I’d somehow forgotten about.

A vision of the judge’s crazed expression flashes across my mind, and I grimace.

“It’s better if you don’t know.”

Her lips part in disbelief before she snorts. “If you don’t tell me how you got your scars, I’m not telling you how I got mine.”

The world tilts as I’m hit withdéjà vu. Fuck, the blood loss first made me pass out, and now I’m stumbling through a mental fog too.

She studies my face for a second longer. I don’t know what she’s looking for, but after a moment she sighs, and drops her hand from my chest. Cool air replaces her touch, and I’m nearly overcome with the urge to wrap her around me so I can roll her over and sink into her warmth.

Resorting to sex is what I would do with a woman from my world. They’ve proven time and again that they’d stab their loved ones in the back just to gain money and status, so I’ve never wanted to “talk things out” when things got hard, and neither have they. I’ve always been as jaded as they come, but Tallie feels even more disillusioned by life than I am.

Whatever we have between us feels different, though.Shefeels different, and she makes me want to be different, too. So once again, I’m at an impasse, waiting for her to come to me.

Only she doesn’t this time.

She leaves the bed, wringing her hands, and quietly talking to herself. Finally, she leaves her inner conversation and speaks to me.

“You’re right. You just passed out from standing up too fast. There’s no way you can get back to the—wherever it is that you live, in one piece.”

I don’t tell her that it’s right down the street. Something feels odd about her phrasing, but after my whirlwind of a night, I can’t figure it out, so I brush the thought aside.

“You can stay here.” She nods toward the double-sized bed that’s too small in width and height for me to lay on.

My brow raises.This is unexpected.