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I try to remember that but when his gaze roves over me with slow seduction, a spark of desire sets off the nest of bats in my stomach.
My throat tightens with anticipation because I know his presence herelike thiscan only mean one thing.
“What are you going to do to me?” I hate how small my voice sounds.
“Not sure yet. I’m thinking of how we can make up for last night.”
Christ.I’m right. And I’m not prepared. I’m still shaky from my nightmare.
And I’m just not prepared.
He turns away to get the bottle of shower gel sitting on the double glass shelf near him.
As his back is turned to me my eyes go straight to the burn scar and for the millionth time I wonder how he got it.
When he turns back to me he catches me looking and he gives me a strange smile I can’t figure out.
“Ugly, isn’t it?” He pins me with an inquisitive stare.
“I don’t think it’s ugly.”
“Well, that’s good. I haven’t had any complaints so far. Most women think a man with some scars is sexy.”
They do, and his does, but a closer look speaks of more. More pain. More horror. “Did it hurt?”
“I nearly died, I’m lucky it’s the only visible damage that remains.”
It hits me that he’s sharing information about himself again.
“How did you get it?” I’m eager for an answer but he shakes his head.
“Story for another time, baby girl.” The guard shielding his deeper thoughts slips for a heartbeat and I pay attention to the soullessness and desolation in his eyes.
The last person I knew who looked remotely close to that was Mom.
Mom, the night before she decided she no longer wanted to be a part of this world.
When he blinks the look is gone.
Gone and replaced with malice.
“Time to make up for last night.” He winks, reminding me that he’s an asshole.
I almost felt sorry for him. Anybody who looks like he just did must be broken inside.
I understand what broken feels like because I feel it every time I think of Mom. And every time I think something isn’t quite right with me.
“Why do I have to make up for anything?”
“Because men have needs.”
“Isn’t Queen Gytha around to tend to your needs?” Mustering courage I don’t feel, I lift my chin. But my courage becomes short-lived when he pushes me back into the wall.
“You’re here. I had fun with you the other night. You had fun with me too.”
“You were punishing me.” I harden my stare to avoid arguing because I have no other explanation for coming all over his face.
“You deserved to be punished.” He traces a finger down my belly and my
