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I pulled my hair over my shoulder, turning to allow him access. “The zipper is a bitch to get undone, and I need a shower after all you three put me through tonight.”

“Last night,” he commented. “Put you through last night. It’s one a.m., making it a new day. What do you think we’ll put you through today, Scar?” he asked, his warm breath tickling over my neck, sending adrenaline shooting down my spine to my core.

Fuck, this man felt like danger and poor decisions. He gripped the back of my neck possessively, his touch scorching my skin like a hot iron as he shoved me forward. I had to catch myself before my face hit the countertop. When my ass pressed against his hardening bulge, the heat transformed into a current of electricity zapping at my skin. Images of us fucking in this position filled my mind, and my chest heaved as I tried to remember how to breathe properly.

“Are you teasing me on purpose, Kenji?” I asked, attempting to sound haughty and unfazed. The complete opposite of what I felt. I was a damn live wire, a current of chaos and lust since the moment Niko walked up to me at the bar.

This fucking shower better have a detachable showerhead.

“I’d never tease you, Scar,” he replied, as the telltale sound of a zipper echoed in the space. The chilled air hitting my exposed spine caused my skin to erupt in goose bumps.

He yanked my dress over my hips, ripping the thin straps.

Every ounce of sexual tension fled my body as satin pooled at my feet. My eyes clamped shut at the shocked gasp Kenji let out at the sight of my body. Shame swirled in my gut at the sensation of his finger tracing over the marks and scars marring my thighs.

“What the fuck, Scar?” My hackles rose at the irritation in his voice. That single question charged the air with intensity.

I’d heard it all before, the disgust over the way my body looked. How ironic that my nickname was a reminder that, like the marks on my skin, I was an unwanted blemish placed upon my family.

“You weren’t supposed to do anything more than unzip me, Kenji. If you don’t like the way they look, then turn away,” I bit out. My fingers twitched against the cool marble as I resisted the urge to cover up.

“Scar, that’s not how I meant it.”

I looked up into the mirror, ready to chew him out some more, but my breath stalled in my lungs. A choked gasp came out instead at the sight of Caleb sipping on a glass of amber liquid. A demon clothed in a fitted suit. Inked forearms stood in stark contrast to the crisp rolled sleeves of his dress shirt.

He looked at ease with his leg crossed, one over the other. The thick material of his onyx dress pants pulled taut across his muscled thighs. I’d be a fool to think he was relaxed just because he leaned against the door frame. My gaze drifted to his shoulders. He was stiff. His expression was one of cool detachment and fiery rage, all wrapped in a mossy package.

He devoured me.

His attention slowly traveled down my naked body, feeling like a physical touch. I knew what he’d see when his gaze reached my ass. Two heart-shaped cheeks with my pussy barely concealed in black lace peeking out at the bottom. If he ran a fingertip down my center, he’d find the effect he and Kenji had on me.

Up until Kenji’d scoffed at my scars…

I swallowed thickly, arming myself for the barrage of insults I was sure he’d sling at me now that he’d seen my blemished flesh. It didn’t matter how much healing you’d done. When accepting your body, there were always bound to be moments where you’d need to rebuild your walls and remind yourself that you were a hot bitch whose worth was determined by more than appearance.

I had a feeling I’d have to do that rebuilding after Caleb said whatever was on the tip of his tongue.

His voice was tight when he finally spoke. “Kenji doesn’t give a shit how they look. He cares about who the fuck thought they could touch you like that. So…who the fuck did this to you?” he asked. His voice was deadly calm, but the tendons in his neck flexed.

That hadn’t at all been what I’d expected him to say. I turned to face the brooding Irishman, savoring the way his focus shifted to the taut nipples I hadn’t bothered covering.

Kenji piped up from beside me. “Yeah, I fucking love scars. Who wants perfection? But I do give a shit that those weren’t given to you willingly.” He gripped my chin, bringing my focus to him. His playful demeanor was nowhere to be found.

Chaos swirled in his eyes, his intensity building with each word. “If they aren’t dead, I expect you to tell me because I’m going to peel off their flesh for laying a finger on you.” Rage gathered in his eyes, making it impossible to hold the contact.

I tore my gaze away, focusing on Caleb setting his glass on the counter, stalking me down like a predator. His finger trailed along my flesh, tracing the edge of my breast down to the top of my thong. It dipped below the band ever so slightly before landing on the pink puckered skin of the stab wound from Tokyo.

Fuck, that seemed like a lifetime ago now.

He’d entrapped me like a fly caught in a web, waiting to be devoured by the spider. I was powerless to look away as he drew circles around my scars.

“She’s not a fragile flower, Kenji. I’m sure they’re either taken care of, or she has a plan for them.”

I stood a little taller. I hadn’t even realized I was curling in on myself, but Caleb had seen it. I wasn’t sure what to do with that realization. Thankfully he spoke again before my mind imploded from his kind gesture.

“How’d this one happen?” he asked, tapping on the newly scarred flesh.

“Knife fight,” I answered truthfully, wondering what his reaction would be. Would he believe me?