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Scars or no scars, Kai’s the best-looking man I’ve ever seen, but somehow, the marks make him more… him. I try to picture him without them, but I can’t. I don’t want to. He’s perfect just the way he is.
Kai wears the evidence of his trauma on the outside. If my insides could bear the evidence of what I’ve been through, I’d be just like him, and knowing he’s as wounded as I am makes me feel like I’m not alone.
And the longer I look at him, the more my attraction builds.
I like that he’s every bit the hardened warrior, but he has an elegance about him, too. He has it all—he’s rough and rugged, but also classically handsome.
His nose is the perfect size and shape, and his mouth is plump. His beard is a little overgrown, but it doesn’t hide his facial structure. He has nice cheekbones and a carved jawline. The sides of his head are shaved, and he has a long strip of blond hair braided down the middle of his scalp.
Then there are his eyes. They’re the clearest light blue with some silver flecks. With the dusty muck of the outside coating his hair and skin, he’s mostly beige all over, and it makes his bright irises stand out even more.
For me, it’s like looking at the sky for the first time in months.
An intimidating scowl is his default expression. Some might describe it as angry, but it’s more of a smolder. I recognize it for what it is—distrust and wariness. I imagine he’s encountered many sneers and snide comments from the snotty fae, and maybe he expects it from me as well.
“Don’t let my appearance frighten you,” Kai adds, still assuming the worst. “I’m not as dangerous as I seem. Well…” Rethinking his statement, he tips his head thoughtfully to the side and amends, “I’m not a danger toyou.”
“You don’t scare me.” I mean that with all sincerity, and tension leaves him because he believes me.
As his muscles relax, the raised skin all over his exposed body moves with him, and I’m mesmerized by the way his scars take on a different shape. How they go from being tight and puckered to smooth.
Some of the lines are deep and long, but others are short and tiny, especially on his fingers. There are a couple of particularly large scars on Kai’s lower abdomen. Thick and silvery, and they disappear into his leather pants.
Since my observation is dropping lower, I unintentionally end up checking out his crotch.
I almost gasp when I see the outline of his cock behind the material that’s doing a very bad job at hiding the appendage. I can actually see the shape of it, long and thick against his right thigh.
Is he hard right now? Or is that just what it looks like all the time?
I haven’t thought about a man’s dick in ages, and suddenly, a flush of heat flows through me—in my face, my stomach, my fingertips. Most shockingly, a throbbing sensation starts up between my legs.
For a second, I’m a bit alarmed because I don’t understand what’s happening to my body.
Then it hits me.
I’m… aroused.
I can’t believe I’m actually turned on. The idea of physical intimacy is usually revolting to me because the extent of my experience with men begins and ends with pain.
Sex is violent. It isn’t an act of love or something to be enjoyed. It’s just a way to hurt someone in their most vulnerable state.
But when I think about running my fingertips over Kai’s chest, abs, and arms… it doesn’t seem bad at all. I imagine what it would be like to trace the raised skin of his scars… or even better, to kiss them, as if my lips could somehow soothe him.
I wonder if he’d let me. Or if he’d even like it.
It doesn’t matter. It’s pointless to contemplate it because I can’t do any of that.
I could never be so bold and free. Even if I wanted to have sex, I wouldn’t know what to do, where to start, how to act.
However, my body doesn’t get that memo. The rhythmic pulsing in my privates is ramping up, going from a curious thump to a demanding ache.
I’m so confused. I don’t know why I’m reacting this way.
Maybe I’ve finally lost my mind. Armand said I would. When he told me my sanity would slowly slip away, he’d said it with such glee like he couldn’t wait for the day when I finally succumb to the madness.
That might be today.
Shifting from foot to foot, I squirm as I rub my thighs together to get some relieving pressure down there.
