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“What the fuck?” Rafe shouted as he jerked out of the way, his reflexes the only thing saving him from a broken nose.
For a second, it looked like she was gearing up for an actual fight, stance wide and hands up by her face. But then her instincts faded away, and her arms dropped limply at her sides. Nell went full deer in headlights, eyes wide and unfocused, body utterly still. He was pretty sure she wasn’t even breathing.
“Hey,” he said, cupping her chin again, harder than last time. His fingertips dug into the soft flesh of her cheeks. “Eyes on me, kitten.”
Using Freya’s nickname for the girl seemed to snap her out of it, and she blinked, suddenly looking at him instead of through him. He’d have to remember to thank his former mentor for that little tip.
“I’m sorry, Sir,” Nell said, fear making her voice shake. “Please, I didn’t mean—”
“You’re not in trouble.” When she started to protest, he tightened his grip. “Look at me.You arenotin trouble.”
She stared into his eyes, hers large and round. “I hit you.” Her voice was so small, so confused.
“I surprised you, and you reacted instinctively. And your instincts were flawless.” His wrist hurt like a motherfucker. Her body knew exactly which steps to take to protect her, like she’d practiced until it became muscle memory. “Do you study martial arts?”
“Self-defense classes,” she answered. “I’m so sorry. I know you weren’t trying to hurt me, but my brain kind of short-circuited and I—”
“From now on, I only want you to apologize when you’ve actually done something wrong.” He loosened his grip, but couldn’t bring himself to let go of her. “Do you understand?”
“But, if hitting you isn’t wrong...” She swallowed. “How am I supposed to know what is?”
Christ almighty, she looked so fucking lost. Like he set her loose in the middle of a labyrinth and demanded she find her way out on the first try.
“Your ex made it hard to tell, didn’t he?” Rafe asked, surprised by the softness in his own voice.
Humiliation flashed through her eyes, but she didn’t look away. “Impossible,” she whispered.
“How about this.” He’d have to revise his plan on the fly. “You don’t apologize at all unless I tell you to. That way you can learn to tell the difference again.”
The faint lines around her lovely brown eyes softened, and she gave him a smile that could light up a room. Hell, it could light a whole fucking stadium. Her picturedefinitelyhadn’t done her justice. “Thank you, Sir.”
Rafe stared at her for a few more seconds, mesmerized, before he managed to get out, “You’re welcome. Will you take your dress off for me now?”
The smile disappeared in an instant.
His mind raced as he tried to figure out what to do. Punish her for not obeying? Force her to either take it off or use her safeword?
No, none of that felt remotely okay to him. If whatever went down with her ex made her too afraid to be touched, he sure as fuck wasn’t going to make it worse. She could always go back to Freya and try again later.
After a way-too-long pause, he settled on saying, “Tell me why this scares you so much.”
Hugging her arms over her stomach, she said, “There’s something I left out of my application. Something I should’ve put in there. I’m sor—” At his arched brow, she let the apology trail off.
“That application may be twenty goddamn pages long, but that doesn’t mean you can fit every single thing about yourself into it.” Rafe’s tone left absolutely no room for argument. “You’re not going to be in trouble. Just tell me what it is.”
She hugged herself a little tighter, but then forced her arms to her sides, her hands curled into fists. Screwing her eyes shut, Nell blurted, “I have scars.” The tension drained out of her muscles as soon as the words were out, and she opened her eyes. “A lot of them. No one has seen them since...not since Micah.”
Micah. That must be the piece of shit ex. He wanted to fucking pulverize the man.
“Is Micah the one who gave you the scars?” Murder bled through his tone, and he damn well knew it. He couldn’t even bring himself to feel bad when she flinched.
Her gaze slid away, resting somewhere near his shoulder. “Some of them.Mostof them.”
Rafe started to ask what she meant, but then closed his mouth without making a sound. He thought he had a pretty damn good idea.
“There’s a quote I heard once,” he said, striving for a calm he didn’t feel, “though I don’t remember where. It went something like this: Scars show you where you’ve been. But they have nothing to do with where you’re going.”
Her gaze flew to his, something new flaring in her eyes. He couldn’t tell what it meant, but he wanted more. That look...thatburn...
