“My God.” His voice is different. “My God, Katelyn.”
I turn. “What? What is it?”
“What the hell happened to you?”
My mouth drops.
Scars. Scars on my back. Mostly from Lovebird’s beatings, but from other things as well.
“You know… You know my past.”
“Baby. Oh my God.” He turns me back around and gently kisses along the scars. “Whoever did this to you should be shot.”
“I won’t argue.”
He turns me back to face him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I said I couldn’t be gentle.”
“Luke, it’s okay. I don’t want you to be gentle. I want to feel every part of you, and I want you to make love the way you want to right now. And I—”
My gaze falls on his left arm.
The tattoo. Finally I can see the red and black image.
It’s a raven—a black raven with a red eye, and it’s wings… It’s wings are made of fire. Black and red swirls float around it, drawn in such a way that I swear they’re actually moving. The design drifts onto his shoulder, with swirls and flames dancing across his body.
“That’s beautiful. Why are you having it removed?”
“I thought it didn’t reflect who I am anymore,” he says. “I was wrong.”
I widen my eyes, part my lips.
“I thought I could leave it in the past.”
“Your past?”
“Oh, baby. So much you don’t know.” He shakes his head. “You should go. Save yourself.”
“What?”
“You heard me.” His voice is harsh. Angry. “Get out. Leave.”
I could easily obey. Leave. I don’t have to bear whatever is troubling him. I have my own issues to deal with. Therapy. My new job that starts Monday.
All of which seems insignificant in the face of the man I love.
I gather my strength. “I’m not leaving. If you want me gone, you’ll have to physically remove me. Or call the police and report me for trespassing.”
“Damn it, Katelyn. Please. I need you to leave.”
“I’m absolutely not going to leave. I told you. You’re going to have to physically remove me or have me removed.”
“Fine. We’ll do it your way.” He stalks toward me and lifts me as if I weigh no more than a feather. He heads to the door, opens it.
I gasp. “I’m not wearing a shirt!”
He pauses, closes the door. Then he lets go of me. “Damn it, Katelyn. What am I going to do with you?”
I reach toward him, trail my fingers over his left arm, around the sharp lines of the raven’s beak. “Fuck me. Like you said you would.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking for.” His eyes smolder.
“Luke, I’m not some untried child. I’m a woman. I’m nearly thirty years old.”
“You’ve been through so much.” He drops his head into his hands. “Those scars. I can’t bear the thought.”
“I’ve been through a lot.” I touch his cheek. He’s always so clean shaven. I wonder what his stubble might feel like beneath my fingertips? “And I think you have too.”
“What I’ve been through is of no consequence. I made my own bed.”
“Maybe, in some way, I did too.”
He shakes his head vehemently and pushes my hand from his cheek. “You are not at all responsible for anything that happened to you. I don’t ever want to hear you say that again.”
“I suppose I didn’t mean it that way. I know it wasn’t my fault. It took me a long time during therapy to realize that. What I meant was that it took me a while to find my strength. Even though it was with me all the time. There was a time when I begged Zee to end my life.”
His eyes widen. “No…”
“It’s okay. I’m not that woman anymore. I don’t know what you’re running from—and you are running—but I just want you to know that I want you. I need you. I love you. Please, don’t leave me.”
“Katelyn…” he growls.
“I meant what I said, Luke. Do it. Take me. Fuck me hard and fast. I can take it. I want it.”
“At the risk of repeating myself, I don’t think you know what you’re asking for.”
“At the risk of repeating myself, I’m a grown woman, and I’m saying yes. You told me before to leave. To leave or you would fuck me. I’m still here, Luke. I’m still standing. I think you want me to be scared of you or something.”
“God, no.”
“But you do. You’re trying to scare me away because somewhere in your head you’ve decided that you’re not good for me.”
“I’m not.”
“You’ve been a perfect gentleman with me. You haven’t done anything without explicit permission. You are good for me, Luke. “
“I’m not who you think I am.”
“And I’m not who you think I am. I’m not some fragile shell of a woman. I may not be quite myself, maybe not the person I was before those things happened to me, but I’m still whole. Whole in a different way. I want you. And I never imagined wanting a man like this. This is growth, Luke. Help me. Help me grow.”