Scarred (23 page)

“But—”

“No arguments,” he said, placing his finger to my mouth. “I know it pains you to follow the rules, but I'm hoping you'll make an exception tonight.”

“Fine,” I said, pouting.

“Good.” He walked out of the party shower and continued his way out of the bathroom, grabbing a towel along the way.

“Hey! Don't think I've forgotten that you promised me answers!” I shouted as the door shut behind him. He’d been holding out on me for a year. He wasn't going to get out of it so easily.

I exhaled loudly, letting my lips vibrate as the air escaped.

“That's not a very ladylike sound,” he shouted from his bedroom.

“Damn your supersonic hearing!” I shouted back. “And it wasn't what you're thinking!”

He laughed as he passed the closed bathroom door on his way back to the kitchen.

“If that's your story...,” he replied.

“It's true!” I protested, wrapping myself in the towel he'd left out. It was so big that I thought it was meant for an entire family. “And what's with this towel? Is it meant for
five
?” I walked out into the main living area still wet, nearly slipping on the wood floor on my way to his room. “I appreciate the floor sniper too. I'm sure seeing me sprawled out on the hardwood in my towel would have only added to the festivities this evening.”

“I think it would have,” he growled behind me. “Perhaps you should show me
exactly
what that looks like.”

“Nope, food next!” I stated, pulling myself from his grip. “Your rules, not mine.”

Totally flustered, I quickly bent down to rifle through my bag. Being naked near Sean wasn't going to lead to anything productive, especially if I had to eat dinner first. In the cluttered mess that was my duffel bag, I had trouble locating my tank top, so I started throwing its contents across the room.

“These are unexpected,” Sean said, twirling the sheer black thong around on his index finger.

“Uh...yeah. Those are for, well, um...I'm not really sure...”

“A special occasion maybe?” he suggested, his eyes flaring.

“Sorta...um...”

“Ruby?” he asked, cocking his damned eyebrow again.

Totally embarrassed, I plopped most inelegantly on my ass next to my bag and let my shoulders slump. I felt ridiculous, and completely exhausted by the gamut of emotions that had plagued me over the last day.

“I don't know why I brought those,” I started with a sigh. “I just...it's just that I thought that...you know...
that's
the kind of girl that you would be used to having.
Sexy
girl―not cotton underwear girl.”

He dropped the panties in question onto the bed and made his way over to me.

“The girl I want is you. Nothing more. Nothing less,” he said, bending down to hold my chin in his hand, gently forcing me to hold his gaze. “Understand?”

“Yes,” I said softly.

“Good,” he replied. “Is the girl I want hungry? I'm used to cooking for the boys, and they eat a lot. I may have made too much.”

“I
am
a werewolf, remember?”

“Fair enough. Get dressed and we'll eat.”

“Okay, but I can't find my shirt. I was sure I grabbed it, but it's not in here.”

“Check the bottom right-hand drawer of the dresser.”

I paused for a second.

“Uh...sure. Thanks,” I said, making my way over to find something of his to wear.

My jaw dropped the instant I saw the contents of that drawer. Inside was a barrage of tees, tanks, and tops that were the exact kind that I liked to wear. When I looked towards the kitchen in disbelief, I caught him sizing me up. His energy was unsure and cautious.

“How did you...what is all this?” I asked, holding a white tank in my hand.

“I thought it was best to have things here for you. Just in case,” he explained. “There are things in the closet too.”

Without further encouragement, I sped to the wardrobe doors and threw them open. On the left side were a handful of hangers, all draped with things from Ronnie's store. Things I'd talked myself out of at one time, though I'd desperately wanted them: vintage jeans, blouses from the thirties and fifties, and a gorgeous tunic from the early seventies that I nearly humped on the rack when I saw it in the store.

“How long have you had these?” I asked, barely able to form the question.

“I've picked up items along the way,” he said casually. “I bought those Levi's the same day that I had Ronnie pick something out for you to wear in Boston...on our first
date
.”

“It wasn't a date,” I whispered, fingering the delicate silk of the cream-colored blouse.

“What?” he asked as if he hadn’t quite caught my utterance.

“It wasn't a date,” I repeated, with a tad more volume and clarity. My attention was still fully on the objects in front of me. “Don't you remember? You said so yourself.”

“You're rambling, Ruby,” he said, sounding concerned. “You ramble when you're upset.”

“I'm a bit in shock, Sean. I wasn't expecting this at all.
Any
of it. Do you have any other closets full of surprises that you’d like to share with me now?”

“It's not as it seems,” he protested, coming to stand beside me as I stared at the wardrobe. “It's not what you're thinking. You seemed to always get yourself into trouble, so I figured at some point you'd have to crash here, or I'd have to bring you here to put you back together again. I just wanted to have what you needed.”

“Well,” I started, taking a calming breath, “you certainly paid attention to the details.” I pulled the jeans out and ran my fingers over them. It had pained me at the time not to buy them. “I'm not gonna lie though...this could play off as uber creepy,” I told him, my voice softening. “But it
is
hard to say no to all this sweet swag.”

“There are shoes too...,” he said, sounding uncertain as to whether that would be helpful or hurtful. “I believe there's a pair in there by your favorite designer.”

My eyes dropped down to the racks of shoes in front of me. There were three pairs for women: one practical pair of Pumas, a pair of Frye boots, which added nicely to my ever-expanding collection, and a stunning pair of basic black patent stilettos by Louboutin. I sat down in front of them, picking up one of the heels. I stroked it gently like a small dog.

“He is your favorite, right?”

“Louboutin, Choo, Blahnik... It's like asking a parent to pick a favorite child.”

He looked at me expectantly, unfazed by my response. “So? What's your point?”

“Parents aren’t supposed to pick favorites, Sean. It's not normal.”

His eyes darkened before he turned to leave.

“I'm glad you like them.” With that, he marched to the kitchen, leaving a trail of anger and resentment in his wake.

It took me a moment to realize where the conversation had taken such a bad turn. One word: Jer.
He
was the favorite. Sean was the most gifted warrior the brothers had to offer, but his father despised him. Ares most definitely played favorites.

I sighed as I put my stiletto back in its place. I hadn't meant anything by my comment, but I also hadn't thought much about my choice of words before saying them either. Sean had weaknesses, though he was far better at hiding them than most. I made a mental note to be more careful of what I said until I knew what all of them were. He was just starting to lower his defenses, and I didn't want to trigger any alarms that would throw them back up again.

After getting dressed, I crept into the kitchen where his back was to me, stirring something simmering on the stove. Reaching my arms around his middle, I lightly rested my head on his back.

“You're
my
favorite,” I whispered, hoping to do some damage control. His chest rumbled loudly in my ear.

“Ares is an unwelcome topic in this house,” he said sternly, “just to let you know.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it, Sean.”

“I know you didn't, but keep that in mind for future reference,” he advised, his tone cautionary. “He's an unwelcome topic in general.”

“And your mother?” I asked, holding my breath. I figured it was best to lay out all the ground rules at once.

“She'd be a welcome topic, if there was anything to talk about,” he said, sounding mournful. “I never knew her. She left after I was born.”

“Left you with who?
Ares
?” I asked in shock. Nobody in her right mind would leave a child in that psycho's care.

“He
is
my father, Ruby,” he sighed, turning to face me. “From what I was told, her hand was forced. She didn't have a choice.”

Didn't have a choice
. That was a concept that I was all too familiar with. I immediately felt a strange kinship with the woman that neither of us knew. Certain that she had no other options, I bet she fought tooth and nail to keep him, even if it was futile. Whatever drove her to leave him must have been dire. No woman seemed to be able to just walk away from Sean.

“I'm sure she was, or
is
, amazing,” I said, looking up at him.

“And why is that?” he asked, wiping a wet curl off of my face.

“Because you're clearly not your father's son. It's the good in you that he hates. She must have been truly something to create a child able to override his evil nature.”

“Well, she is an angel.”

“True,” I agreed, “but that just makes me wonder what in God's name made her want to be with someone like Ares.”

“Don't let him fool you, Ruby. He once had a ruthless charm. Enough so that he could coax the angels down from heaven, apparently,” he said with a certain awe to his voice. “But he poisons everything he touches, including his children. Some more so than others.”

“You're not poisoned, Sean.”

“That's debatable,” he said, pulling me closer. “Perhaps it's why I'm so attracted to your inherently good nature.”

“Maybe you just like pasty blondes with crazy hair.”

“Maybe,” he said, a playful grin playing across his face. “Maybe we should skip dinner and see just how much I like pasty blondes with crazy hair.”

My skin flushed at the thought, but I kept my composure.

“No. I'm sticking to your rules if for no other reason than to show you it's within my abilities to do so,” I informed him, grabbing a plate off the counter and piling food onto it. “Besides, I need some energy that I can burn off later.” I gave him my most wicked grin, and even cocked an eyebrow at him. He visibly unraveled ever so slightly. As a man who was used to being on the offensive, he must not have realized that he liked having me press
his
buttons—in a good way.

“Then go sit down and start eating,” he whispered in my ear. “I'll fix you another plate.”

* * *

It was not an elegant meal. The food was amazing, but my manner of eating it was close to feral at times. He baited me the entire time, and I quickly realized that, in the sexual tension game, I was a freshman—he wrote the curriculum. I nearly ran to the sink with my dishes, rinsing them as quickly as I could before sprinting to the bathroom to brush my teeth and pee. I didn't want fennel in my teeth or a bathroom break to interfere with the evening's festivities.

When I emerged, the entire apartment was pitch black and dead silent. The combination of the two always gave me a rush of adrenaline, given my track record. I called his name, feeling like an idiot immediately thereafter, knowing that he was likely naked and in bed already, the thought of which only added to my epinephrine surge.

I tiptoed down to his bedroom, dragging my hand along the wall for direction. There was little light offered by the windows in his room, but just enough to cast an eerie glow around his figure as he stood on the far side of the bed—naked. Very, very naked.

In the darkness, I slipped my pants off, silently laying them on the floor. I unhooked the bra from under my shirt and placed it atop the pants. He continued to stand motionless on the far side of the bed, undoubtedly in an effort not to spook me. He knew I'd been hurt, a fact which seemed to pain him greatly, as though he himself had inflicted the pain. To show him I wasn't afraid, I stepped into the only crack of light that reached as far into the room as I stood―the spotlight for my performance.

The silver-blue glow of the nearly full moon made my skin radiant in a ghostly fashion, almost iridescent. I felt exposed even though I was still partially clothed, and it made me wonder how, after everything we'd done the previous night, I could still feel so nervous and uncertain. Then it dawned on me. In all our debauchery, he hadn't actually
seen
me naked. Somehow my shirt had stayed on the whole time as though removing it would have interrupted things far too much to bother. The times that Sean had seen me naked over the past year, including an hour earlier in the shower, seemed different somehow, and I struggled to make sense of what those differences were.