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I should’ve been staring at them instead of her gorgeous fucking face when she came out wrapped in that sweater, because there were bands there too.
Scars.
“What the hell?” Vena’s voice was halfway between drowsy and pissed. “Don’t fucking touch me.”
“I didn’t.” The words were snarled. I should’ve spoken more kindly to her, but I couldn’t control my own fury. “Only the blankets and pillow. Are there more scars?”
She didn’t answer right away.
The darkness swelled further around me, the scent and power of it scrambling my fucking mind.
My fists clenched as I fought the magic, fought the awful fucking urges to strip the blankets and clothing from her body, to discover what she was hiding from me.
A soft sigh finally escaped her.
The sadness in it confused me long enough to wrench control back from my magic, and clench my fists harder.
She rolled onto her back and slowly peeled the fabric from her skin.
Shock and fury hit me one after the other as she revealed herself. She was naked beneath the sheets, a fact my mind would be sure to remind me of later, but that wasn’t what stole my attention.
Because around her middle, there was another band. It was thicker than the others, and the scar was rougher and less even.
“Your magic is too strong,” she whispered to me. “Why does it feel so… intense?”
The fucking magic.
I forced it away from me, wrestling the power, and she let out a slow breath as it dissolved.
The air between us was still charged though, and my fury remained thicker and hotter than before.
“Who did this to you?”
“Your people captured my sisters and I—the women who took your magic to save you. They tried to take it from us. Tortured us. We only escaped a few months ago.”
Understanding blossomed within me.
The woman who had fought beside my brother so fiercely. The way she hurt and killed the fae I’d created, as if she had done so before. Not even I would stoop to murder when it came to those I faced on the battle field, but a woman who had been tortured…
Fucking hell.
They had hurt her, too. My mate. My Lemay.
“Take me to them,” I snarled at her.
“I would if I could.” Her voice was still soft. “It wouldn’t fix anything, though. Continuing a cycle of torture benefits no one.”
“It would sure as fuck benefit me.”
“It wouldn’t.” Her voice was hard and sure, a fact that made me more aware of the expanse of naked skin in front of me. She had stripped herself bare before me without a pause or hesitation, and pride flooded me at that fact.
Fuck, she was perfect.
And I’d destroy anyone who had ever touched her.
Her perfection belonged to me, and had long before we’d ever met face to face.
“Stop looking at me like that.” She dragged the blanket back over her skin.
