Scarred

by Amber Lynn Natusch

  I looked down at myself, assessing my state, which was a very attractive combination of soaking wet, shivering, and hopelessly disheveled. Maybe that wasn't the best presentation for professing your love to someone. Lack of self-confidence crept in, and I subconsciously took a step backwards away from the door.

  A new plan flashed through my mind, consisting of a quiet retreat down the stairs and me forgetting that any of it had ever happened. He didn't really need to know how I felt—the status quo wasn't such a horrible option. It may have bred tension and animosity, but those things were familiar; I could deal with them.

  Vulnerability, I could not.

  Not the real, true, naked, lay-it-all-out-on-the-line vulnerability. That was more than I could do. Maybe it was change I feared, but either way, I was halfway down the stairs when I heard the latch on the apartment door click and the knob squeak as it turned. Fate stepped in on my cowardly behalf.

  The universe really did hate me.

  I picked up speed quietly, about to round the corner to the next flight of stairs when Sean called out after me.

  “Ruby, where are you going?”

  With my back toward him, I cringed to myself. I was totally busted. There was nothing to do but turn back. If I had run, he’d have only chased me down. I looked up to face him, offering a shy smile, then climbed my way back up to the landing I'd just fled.

  “Nowhere.”

  “That didn't look like 'nowhere' to me. It looked a lot more like leaving.”

  “I wasn't sure you were home.”

  “Considering you made no attempt to check and see, I'm sure you weren't certain of that,” he said, sounding mildly confused.

  “Yeah, I know,” I said, fumbling for a way out of the situation. “I didn't want to bother you.”

  “Then why are you here?” he asked, eyebrow raised. That was the question I wanted so desperately to answer and run from all at the same time.

  “Something happened tonight,” I started, thinking maybe distraction could prove helpful. “The Rev—”

  “What about him? What did he do?” he asked, his voice filled with concern. “Did he hurt you?”

  “Yes. No…no, not really,” I fumbled. “That's not the point.”

  “That's not the point? Really?”

  “No, now would you shut up for a second and listen?” I yelled, before snapping my eyes down to the floor. “He tried to drown me,” I said softly, still averting his gaze. “He nearly succeeded. But that's not why I'm here.”

  “Nearly succeeded?”

  “That's what I said.”

  “Just how nearly successful was he?” he asked. I looked up to see his damn eyebrow arching so intensely that I thought he might get a cramp in it.

  “Very, but I got pulled out, so it's fine for now. A man who lives by the dock jumped in and saved me,” I explained, still avoiding eye contact. “He and his wife invited me in after the whole ordeal. They were very sweet. I’m here because something she said struck a chord.”

  I sneaked a look at his face to see the tension in his eyebrow relax a bit, as well as his posture. He unfolded his arms from his chest, letting them hang beside him as he waited for me to continue. I sighed aloud in preparation for the emotional leap I was about to take.

  “She said 'he is mine, and I am his'.”

  Silence.

  “It made me think of you,” I added.

  Still nothing. Embarrassment set in and my blood pressure started to rise.

  “She was going on and on about true love, and how you can't escape it,” I rambled, my nerves getting the best of me. “That you can deny it, but if it's to be, it'll be.”

  Absolutely nothing from him.

  “Well, I'm tired of denying it, fighting it, rationalizing it, and I'm sure as hell tired of being scared of it. If we are meant to be, then let's start being, dammit. My life may prove to be too short to spend my time being frightened of the fallout.”

  He stood motionless in the doorway. His lack of response only fueled my uncertainty, and that fueled my defense-driven anger.

  “Oh, so for once you have nothing to say?” I asked, hostility in my tone. “I'm so glad that this is the one time the cat managed to get your tongue.”

  I was two steps closer to leaving when I stopped myself. I was on a precipice, and there was a choice to be made. Would I continue to avoid taking what I wanted in life out of fear, or would I stay and fight for it? Where would I draw my line in the sand? Would I box myself into a corner with it, imprisoned by my own constraints?

  “No,” I whispered to myself. “Not this time.”

  I turned to see him looking rather shell-shocked on the landing.

  “What are you telling me?” he asked, eyes searching my face for answers, his expression hopeful but controlled. My gaze faltered briefly under his scrutiny. That flash of submission told him everything he needed to know, but I was hell-bent on telling him anyway.

  “I came here tonight because at the most unlikely time, in the most unlikely place, I realized that I don't want to live without you,” I said, marching back up to go face to face with him. “I nearly died tonight, and the thought that plagued me most was that I'd never get to tell you how I really felt...what I really wanted from you. I believe in signs, Sean, and when that woman said 'he is mine', something clicked inside me. I jumped up and ran here in the cold, in the rain, and with that fucking nutcase, the Rev, still loose, because you needed to hear this.”

  I was shouting at him, poking my finger in his chest. I don't know why I was so angry; maybe it was the only way to get myself to man up and deal with the situation. He, on the other hand, stood there stoic as always and took it. He didn't say anything—didn't try to stop me. He let me attack him for no reason so he could hear what he was longing to hear.

  “I need you, Sean. Good or bad, right or wrong—I need you. I always have, and God help me, I probably always will. And I can't stand the thought of me dying and you never knowing that. That I can't live with.”

  At some point, I realized that my poking had turned to punching during my profession of love, which actually came out more like an angry confession. In an effort to contain myself, I pulled my arms into my chest, still fisted, before slowly lowering them to my sides. My whole body was prickling with anger to prevent me from having to truly feel the vulnerability that my sentiments created. Instead, I was raw, irritated—explosive. Without a physical outlet, I felt trapped in my body, a fire raging. I looked up to see forest green bleed through his emerald eyes. A fire was raging behind those eyes too.

  Energy coursed between us, slowly coming to a crescendo of uncomfortable intensity. As it peaked, his eyes flashed black and his mouth parted slightly, letting the tiniest of breaths escape. My pulse raced. My temperature spiked. Unconsciously, I closed my eyes, letting my head loll back, slowly exposing my neck. A sound escaped Sean and tore through the hallway, shaking the railing I leaned against so violently that my attention immediately snapped back to him.

  One look was all it took.

  We crashed into each other so hard that my lips bled with that first kiss. He pressed me up against the metal rail, pushing me with his hips and pulling me with his hands that were conveniently locked deep into my mop of curls. I scrambled for purchase anywhere on his body, climbing him until my legs wrapped tightly around his waist. I used them to leverage my weight against his, pushing back into him so hard, my tights frayed quickly from the friction.

  He shredded the rest of them with one violent rip.

  Scarlet growled in response as I fisted his collar in my hands and Hulk Hogan-ed his shirt apart. My tunic was suddenly bunched up around my waist as I fumbled with his belt, yanking it out before tossing it down the stairs. My boots remained on―they required too much effort to remove at the time. In our state of half-dressed foreplay, we struggled against each other while trying to get into the apartment, neither one willing to give an inch on their agenda in order to accomplish the task with any expe
dience. Once we crashed off of every vertical surface in the hallway, we managed to enter the flat relatively uninjured.

  He let go of my ass just long enough to punch the door closed behind us, then immediately slammed me back against it. My body welcomed the crash. Using the door to push off of, I was able to let go of him long enough to slide my hand down his naked chest into those pesky jeans that seemed crazy-glued to his ass. They may have been undone, but there was barely room for my hand in there; he was very happy to see me.

  Just as I managed to finally grab hold of him, my head snapped back and Scarlet broke through, suddenly gaining control. She howled loudly, her cry echoing off the apartment walls. Sean froze momentarily, staring as those crimson eyes met his. His hand reflexively cupped her throat, grinding her back into the wall.

  Her hand was still very busy in his pants.

  He leaned in close, eyes blacker than pitch, to stare her down. She let out a low warning growl as their faces met, drawing one deep from Sean's chest in response. His grip tightened.

  Scarlet pressed forward hard, reaching to get her lips to his ear. She fought against him, licking a line along his jaw until she reached her destination, then sunk her teeth deep into his earlobe. “You can fuck her,” she said through a clenched jaw, “but if you hurt her, you die.”

  She simultaneously released his ear and relinquished control of my body. I crashed against the wall yet again, shaking my head for clarity. Sean was breathing hard and bleeding heavily from his earlobe. He wasn't a werewolf, but the look he gave me was pure predator. Fear surged through me as panic tried to settle in. I broke out in a sweat—more than I was already—so I closed my eyes and tried to calm my breathing.

  Line in the sand...

  My eyes snapped open to see those inky black ones piercing me. I narrowed mine in response; he wasn't the only one with a dark side. Not the only predator.

  As I leaned forward, his grip on my throat lessened, allowing me some leeway. I ducked my head as low as possible and licked the trail of blood running down his chest, to his neck, and all the way up to his ear. Once there, I wrapped my mouth around it softly at first, then I sucked on it—hard. He moaned in response, pressing my body back into the wall with his. The pressure of his body was fuel to the fire.

  I wanted those damn pants off.

  I may not have gotten my wish, but a close second instead. He slid his hand up my leg slowly, grabbing the first piece of fabric he reached. He snatched it off in one brutal tug, throwing what had once been my underwear in the direction of the couch. I gasped as his hand immediately returned, my thin cotton barrier AWOL. That single touch nearly sent me over the edge, and he smiled wickedly with that knowledge.

  The more sound I made, the more he teased, rubbing his body against me while his hands were busy at work. Just when I thought I couldn't take anymore, he broke out the big guns. The pants that wouldn't let him out to play finally relented, and in seconds we were one, grinding against the door of his apartment. It was rough, desperate, and filled with pure, raw, unadulterated need.

  I screamed his name, he murmured mine.

  I scratched his back, he nipped my chest.

  I grabbed his hair, he yanked mine back.

  I begged for more, he obliged me well.

  Over one year's worth of sexual tension was broken by that first encounter against his apartment wall. When we came together, the floor shook from the intensity of it. Dishes crashed to the ground, bottles fell from the counter, and we collapsed to the floor amidst the debris, completely oblivious.

  The reprieve didn't last long.

  There were multiple repeat performances that night: on the floor, the counter, the shower, the counter, the couch, the counter, then finally the bed. His apartment looked like a grenade hit it, and I was pretty certain that I didn't look much better.

  The faintest glow of moonlight broke through the darkness when we finally laid down together in his room. I curled up into him so tightly that sweat started to form from the heat our proximity created. I didn't care; it felt amazing. Where Cooper had always felt like home, Sean felt like heaven. Cooper made me feel solid and grounded. Sean made me feel light and ethereal. It was a carefree feeling that I would never in a million years have attached to him, a side I'd never seen. It was then that I realized Sean had far more depth than I had ever imagined. I'd only waded in the shallows up until then.

  It was time to take a dive.

  “Later,” he said, stroking my hair gently, twisting the ends between his fingers as he reached them. “You need sleep.”

  I was startled and confused. Had he read my mind?

  “How did you—”

  “You were mumbling as you drifted off,” he said, a tiny smile curling the corner of his mouth. “It was cute.”

  “Oh,” I replied, burying my face and my embarrassment in his chest. It took an extra moment to fully take in what he'd said to me before I sprang back up to look at him, nearly breaking his nose in the process. “You promise?”

  “What?” he asked, rubbing his face gently.

  “You'll tell me later?”

  His smile widened.

  “Why do you want to know so badly?”

  “Probably because you've tortured me for months with your evasive, non-committal answers regarding every aspect of your centuries-old life.”

  His chest rumbled beneath me with laughter.

  “You're a curious little creature, Ruby,” he said, pulling me down to kiss me. “I've never met anyone or anything like you. I'll tell you what you want to know, but not until you sleep. You're deliriously tired, which means you'll be horribly grumpy all day if you don't. And I have plans for us.”

  “Fine,” I said in surrender, kissing the nose I nearly broke. “But don't you dare try to weasel your way outta this one. You will not pull a 'Sean' on me this time.”

  Satisfied with my win, I put my head back down against the warmth of his body and fell asleep instantly.

  * * *

  I shot out of bed not long after.

  Somehow during my spastic awakening, Sean had managed to stay asleep. I looked around his sparse bedroom for what was left of the outfit I'd had on the previous night. I needed to leave. Sean and I had just had a crash course in relationship upgrading, and I wasn't so certain that the evening’s events had accomplished what I'd hoped they would. I was sure that he knew how I felt about him, to say the least, but sex didn't make a relationship, and I was concerned that we'd tipped the scales a wee bit too far in that direction.

  Easing off the bed to start the scavenger hunt for my clothes, I fumbled around his dimly lit room. I was still wearing my tunic and I found my boots relatively easily, but it took a while to track down my bra that was dangling off the corner of the upper kitchen cabinets. My tights and underwear were a lost cause; they had a date with the trash.

  I put what was left of my clothes on quietly and tiptoed back to his room to find him still sacked out in bed. Apparently, I’d worn him out. Until that moment, I wasn't even positive sure that he slept at all.

  I looked at him lying peacefully in the bed, the scant light playing up his chiseled features. He looked younger, like he had when we'd had our run-in at the club months ago—when life was simpler. Life may not have been simple anymore, but seeing him like that made it so much more tolerable.

  With a smile on my face, I walked over to the bed and bent down beside him. A dark, wavy lock of his hair had gone astray and I played with it, thinking about how I'd never seen this side of Sean—the soft side. Not necessarily because he hadn't wanted me to, but more likely because timing never allowed it. I liked it immensely. He looked vulnerable―peaceful.

  He looked human.

  Leaning over to give him a whisper of a kiss in the center of his forehead, my blood rushed with the contact. I still didn't know why that happened, why he and I were like gasoline and a lit match, but as soon as we touched we ignited. Sometimes for better, sometimes for worse.

 
I smoothed down his hair before standing and turned to leave the room, trying to be conscious of how much noise I was making. I didn't make it far. As I started to walk away, he caught my wrist.

  “Love me and leave me?” Sean said, smiling wide. “I feel so used. I never took you for that kind of girl, Ruby. Perhaps I've underestimated you yet again.”

  “I have to go,” I whispered, trying to delicately pull away from his hold.

  “No,” he replied, pushing up off the bed. “You have to stay.”

  I tried to look him in the eyes, but his chest and abs were just too distracting. It brought out the slightest chuckle from him.

  “It's a lot, Sean,” I started in an attempt to explain my feelings. “I'm just...I'm just feeling a bit overwhelmed right now. I've wanted this for so long that—”

  “Then why leave?” he interrupted.

  “I just need some time alone to sort through things.”

  “I thought that's what you did before you came here―sorted things out,” he said, a tiny frown developing.

  “I know. And I did, but I didn't think much beyond the telling you part. Now I have to figure the rest out.”

  “Why don't you just let it figure itself out, Ruby? Why do you have to have the answers all the time?”

  “Isn't that the pot calling the kettle black?” I retorted, thinking that was more his problem than mine.

  “What are you so afraid of?” he asked, standing up to join me—without anything on.

  “Well...not that thing, apparently,” I joked, looking down at his formidable bits. “That I think I'm good with.”

  “So it would seem,” he replied with a wicked grin. “But you're pulling a 'Ruby' on me right now. Don't use humor to deflect the question. What are you really afraid of?”

  I squirmed under his intensity. Too much vulnerability in a short time period was not proving to be good for my blood pressure or my mental state. I wasn't used to having to process so many emotions so quickly. One thing I'd always had, before I gained my sight, was time. And a lot of it was spent alone. If something was bothering me, I had days to ruminate over it until I came to a logical and sensible conclusion. For the previous few months, all I'd done was bounce back and forth through an emotional mine field. There was no processing, only coping—denial being my favorite method. I was being asked to not only face my true feelings, acknowledge, and accept them, but then share them with the very person they mattered most to. It was a lot.