Page 155 of Thorns of Death

Blinking hard against the sunlight, I listened to my husband’s heartbeat and found comfort in it. He made me feel safe, cherished, and loved. Despite the fact that I’d been keeping him at arm’s length, not yet ready to be intimate with him.

He’d just hold me at night and whisper words in Italian that soothed.

Inhaling his scent into my lungs, I stirred softly. Careful not to wake him, I shifted away from him and off the bed. For a moment, I lingered by the bedpost, watching him sleep. His chest was bare, his olive skin beautiful and untainted. Even while he slept, he was a force of a man. His brows furrowed, almost as if he worried even in his sleep.

Keeping my footsteps soft, I made my way into the bathroom. He needed as much rest as he could get. He’d stayed awake so many nights, taking care of me.

I entered the luxurious bathroom, the Italian tile cool under my feet. The room was bright from the floor-to-ceiling window framing the sea. The beauty of it didn’t move me. It only taunted.

The large shower still had Enrico’s discarded clothes from earlier—or was it yesterday—when he helped me bathe. He’d been so patient, so understanding.

Maybe he didn’t want me anymore.I wouldn’t wantmeanymore.

I caught my reflection in the mirror for the first time since the rescue. I had avoided mirrors for weeks, unwilling to see the marks left by Donatella, Sofia, and Giulio.

My face was the same and so were my eyes. But the dark circles beneath them and the paleness of my skin spoke of haunted dreams. For a moment, I stood immobile as my lungs squeezed in my chest. I had to face my demons, but was I brave enough?

Slowly, as if in a daze, I took my husband’s shirt off, leaving me in my underwear. I discarded it onto the counter while I stared at my scars, pink and ugly. They looked worse under the sunlight streaming in.

My heart faltered, staring at the marks on my arms and my belly. A shiver worked its way up my spine and tears burned in my eyes. It was vain, but I couldn’t help it.

A soft noise caught my attention and I found Enrico leaning against the doorway, wearing nothing but his pajama pants. So beautiful. So strong. So far away.

He pushed off the door and slowly, as if approaching a skittish animal, he closed the distance between us.

“What are you looking at?”

“Nothing.”

Enrico came up behind me, and instinctively, I reached for a towel, piece of clothing—anything to cover the ugliness of it.

The moment my fingers reached the cloth, Enrico ripped it from my grip.

“No.” His gaze met mine in the mirror. “You do not hide from me.”

I blinked desperately, tears threatening to spill. I held them back, needing my strength now more than ever. I averted my eyes from the reflection showing his perfect body next to my scarred one. My heart drummed against my ribs, each one more painful than the last.

Illias said I was brave—strong like him—but I didn’t feel like it right now. I mourned my body, the way it used to be but no longer was. I mourned my soul, because it was heavy. So fucking heavy that it was hard to breathe.

“What are you looking at,amore mio?” he repeated.

I swallowed. “I’m ugly.”

He stepped closer to my back, his chest brushing against me. His warmth heated my cold heart. He was the reason I held on. Yet, nothing was the same. I had returned damaged, hiding in the darkness of my mind.

“Isla, look at me,” my husband demanded. I turned my head to do so, but he stopped me. “No, in the mirror.” I followed his command to see his perfect body next to my imperfect one. “What do you see?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat that threatened to choke me. “I see you. You’re so beautiful. So perfect. And I’m—”

My voice cracked, unable to utter another word.

He shook his head. “No,dolcezza.” He kissed the crown of my head. “Youare beautiful. My survivor.” One hand lay across my stomach, his palm calming my frantic heartbeat. “My strong wife who fought to come back to me.” His voice cracked on the last word and his hand trembled as he wrapped it around my waist. “You are beautiful,mia moglie. My wife. My lover. My reason. Without you, I’m nothing. With you, I’m everything.”

A single tear lingered on my eyelashes, fighting to get free while I struggled to breathe.

“But look how ugly I am.”

“You are bruised. Scarred. It only makes you more beautiful.” I caught his stare in the mirror. “You are the strongest woman I know, and I wouldn’t have you any other way.”