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The dream shifts again as that question reverberates through my mind, and I’m back in my apartment, standing in front of my mirror and gazing at my own reflection. I expect to see myself as I am, scarred and timid, dressed in long sleeves, my blonde hair tumbling around my face, hiding pieces of myself to try to get by in the world without too many stares or rude comments.
But the woman in front of me isn’t covered up. She’s wearing a red silk gown that clings to her soft curves. Her eyes are hard, and they flash with something I can’t identify. Her hands are filthy and soaked with blood.
Red, red, red.
So much red.
So much blood.
So much death.
It’s not just clinging to the brothers. It’s all over her too, covering her skin and seeping into her pores, infecting her very soul.
I barely recognize the woman staring back at me from inside the mirror, but as our gazes lock, I realize it’s not just the brothers who are monsters.
She’s one too.
My eyes snap open, and I jerk slightly, breathing hard as I wake up suddenly.
For a second, I’m disoriented, staring at an unfamiliar wall across from me and confused about why it’s not one I recognize. There’s a warm body behind me, spooned up close, a heavy arm draped over my side. I nearly panic before everything that happened last night comes crashing back over me again.
I’m in Ransom’s bed, and he clearly moved in the night, because now he’s much closer than he was before.
I can feel the hard lines of his body against mine… and that’s not all that’s hard. His cock is right there, pressing against my ass, and that warm tightening in my belly from my dream returns with a vengeance.
Sucking in a breath, I ignore the sudden flare of arousal, wriggling slowly out from under his arm and trying not to wake him as I slide out of bed. My bags are still set against the wall, and I rummage through one, finding regular clothes to get dressed in for the day.
I change quickly, trying to make no sound at all, but when I turn around as I finish pulling on my shirt, I realize Ransom is awake and watching me.
He must have woken up sometime while I was dressing, and he’s pushed himself up onto one elbow, looking sleep rumpled and handsome. My face flushes immediately at the realization that he saw me changing. Honestly, I’m almost more embarrassed about him seeing my scars than about him seeing me naked. They can’t have looked good from that angle.
I don’t even know why I care, really. Malice has already seen them, and Victor must have seen them too, if he was spying on me in my apartment. He had cameras in my bedroom for fuck’s sake. So it shouldn’t be that big of a deal for Ransom to see them too.
Usually, I try not to worry about what people will think of my scars. They’re a part of me, and it’s not like I can get rid of them, so I just have to deal with them. But the thought of Ransom looking at me with disgust bothers me for some reason.
He’s not, though.
Heat burns in his eyes, and I don’t quite understand it. It’s not like Colin, who looked at me with lust only because he wanted to fuck a virgin and thought I was a sure thing. Ransom looks at me like I’m beautiful, and that makes my stomach drop in a funny way.
“What happened?” he asks softly.
He doesn’t specifically reference my scars, but his gaze darts over the spots where they’re hidden by my clothes, and I know what he’s getting at.
I don’t answer, and I’m not sure if it’s because I don’t want to or because the words are stuck in my throat.
He raises an eyebrow at me when I’m silent for a long moment, his lips tugging up at the corners. “You know I could just get Vic to look it up, right? I’m sure there’s a record of whatever happened to you somewhere.”
I wince at that. I’m not sure there is, honestly, since it happened before my adoption, so it’s not like my current last name would even be on the old medical charts.Ifthe charts still exist. I’ve never known exactly what happened to me before I ended up being adopted by Misty, just that there was a fire that left me severely burned and most likely killed my parents.
But the idea of Vic poking around in my past makes my stomach churn. I don’t even like to think about it most of the time, and I don’t want him to find out about the mess of my childhood. The benders my mom went on, the johns who were in and out of our house all the time, the bullying I had to go through at school—when I was allowed to go at all.
There’s just too much pain there, and I want to keep it locked away as much as I can.
I scowl at Ransom, irritated. “What happened to getting to know someone the old fashioned way?”
He blinks for a second, looking like he’s considering my words. Then he nods with a little smile.
“You’re right. That is the best way.” He gets out of bed, stretching languidly before coming over to me. He’s in my personal space, the warmth of his body bleeding into mine, but for once, I don’t feel crowded. “I just want to know more about you,” he admits. “I want to know everything.”
