52 Her Protector
Tris.
I froze midway through stroking his hair, and my heart skipped a beat when he mentioned another woman. I tried to keep a straight face. I had no right to feel wronged, but why did his words weigh so heavily on my heart? I guessed I was falling quicker than I thought.
Cassian must have noticed my reaction because he suddenly laughed. “But back then I had not known who was in store for me.”
My skin tingled with pleasure at his words and their implications, but I tried to ignore the way he was looking at me. I would burst into flames if I was not careful.
Then I stopped blushing when I noticed a scar that I had never seen before. It looked like it had been extremely deep and was positioned right at the junction of his head and neck. I reached out and felt him freeze when I traced it. “This…” I stuttered, unable to find any more words to form my question. I pulled my hand away. I did not want him to feel uncomfortable and on edge.
He caught my hand as I tried to retract it, bringing it back to the scar. His expression became inscrutable, as though he was trying to distance himself from the memory as he spoke about how the scar had come to be. “This…” He held my hand firmly at the base as he looked into the distance. “Was from the first attempt on my life.”
Bile rose in my throat, but I swallowed it back down. “Who?”
“The Blood Creek pack.”
My eyes widened. I had been there before for their harvest moon festivals. It had been my favorite time of the year because only my mother, my brother, and I would attend. My father would not be there. When one of Alpha Landon’s sons suddenly stopped appearing at events, there had been a rumor that he had been captured by the Lycans when he went for a hunt. I had heard nothing about an assassination attempt on the Lycan Alpha’s
life.
“It happened on the day of my coronation,” he sighed. “I survived, but many did not. As it would turn out, we had been infiltrated months before, but we had been so preoccupied with preparations that we had not been cautious enough.”
It was heartbreaking that the beginning of his reign had been marked with such tragedy. “I am sorry,” I said gently.
He curled into my touch in response. “It’s your turn, Iris,” he said.
“Oh…” I suddenly felt vulnerable. “Yes, sorry.”
He raised his head from my lap, his eyes on me. “Tell me about yours,” his voice was husky.
I knew that I was going to be unfair to him by not letting him see my scars, but they were such an ugly sight. They marred my skin so badly that they made me feel like forever covering myself
He looked at me expectantly, his gaze searching.
I bit my lip anxiously, trying to make myself smaller.
“You don’t want me to see them?” he asked. “It’s fine…”
“No!” I blurted. “It’s not like that. I want you to see them, but they are… I feel…”
“You are insecure?” he asked. “About them?”
I nodded reluctantly, looking away.
led my
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He reached out and cradled my face. I turned to look at him, my heart thumping erratically,
“You are beauty personified, Iris,” he whispered. “Your scars could never take away from that. They are simply a part of you, and I want to know every part of you.”
His words touched me. Taking a deep breath, I slowly pulled off my top. I wore nothing but cloth wrapped around my breasts and revealed the network of scars that marked almost every part of me. I felt exposed and vulnerable, but Cassian’s gaze remained tender. Yet, there was heat in his eyes, as though he was holding himself back.
He reached out, his fingers tracing a particularly deep scar along my side. “This one?” he asked softly.
I shivered under his touch but forced myself to stay still. “This one is from the day my father brought my half–sister home. I tried to be accommodating, but she told my father that I called her an illegitimate child, so my father decided to make an example out of me.”
Cassian’s eyes darkened with anger, but he said nothing, simply continuing to trace the scar with a gentle touch. “And this one?” he asked, moving to
another scar on my shoulder.
“That was from a punishment for speaking out of turn,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “My father didn’t like it when I tried to assert myself.”
Cassian’s grip tightened slightly, his anger palpable. But his gaze remained soft as he moved his hand to a scar on my belly. This one was different from the others, a large discolored patch of skin that stood out starkly against my natural tone. His fingers hovered over it, hesitant.
“And this one?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
I took a deep breath, feeling a lump form in my throat. This scar held a memory that would forever be etched painfully in my mind. “This one,” I began, my voice trembling, “is from the day my sister framed me for trying to kill her child. She was always jealous of me, always looking for ways to get me in trouble. She told my father that I had tried to harm her baby, and he… he lost his mind.”
Setting
21:04
52 Her Protector
Cassian’s eyes filled with rage that he tried to contain, but I could feel the heat of his anger nonetheless. His hand gently pressed against the scar, as if trying to soothe the pain that had long since healed physically but remained fresh in my heart. “He kicked me repeatedly. I was pregnant at the time, and… I lost my baby that day.”
Cassian’s expression darkened. For the first time, he trembled. He shook slightly as he touched the scar. I was not sure if it was from anger or grief
for me.
Until he wiped my cheeks with his thumb, I did not know I had begun crying. “Don’t cry,” he whispered.
my face I nodded, unable to speak as even more tears welled up in my eyes. Cassian suddenly pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly. I buried in his chest, trying to hold my tears back but to no avail. The shock from losing my child had not let me grieve properly for it. This was the first time I was held while I cried for my loss. I cried for the life that was snuffed out of me. His embrace was grounding and reassuring. He stroked my hair as I wept out my grief.
“I will never let anyone hurt you again,” he whispered fiercely into my hair. “I vow to you.”
His words wrapped around my aching heart, offering solace and reprieve. As I clung to him, I knew that I had found someone who could see beyond my scars, who saw me for who I was. And with Cassian by my side, I felt a flicker of hope. Even if it was for a time, I would be happy with him.
So we played our game, trading stories, pain, hardship and laughter. With scars, whose origin we delved into, I felt more walls around my heart crumble until it was left vulnerable for him to capture.
