Scarred

by Amber Lynn Natusch

“I'm sorry I ran out,” I blurted out. “It's none of my business who you...you know...date, or whatever.”

  “She wasn't a date,” he said, his smile returning. “She wasn't 'whatever' either, just so we're clear on that. But I appreciate the pass.” He looked at my bag again and gave a nod. “I guess I'll give you one too.”

  It took me a moment to catch exactly what he’d said. He’d thrown his last line out so casually that I’d nearly overlooked the message. My “pass” was him acknowledging that he and I were never going to be more than we’d always been—friends. Family.

  I followed him to the door and hugged him from behind, giving an extra squeeze before I let go.

  “I love you,” I whispered to him.

  “That's one thing I've never questioned, Rubes,” he replied. “I love you too.”

  I turned to leave quickly as my eyes started to burn with barely held in tears.

  “Oh, I almost forgot,” Cooper said, getting my attention. “This strange old man was taping a note to the shop's door today when I left. I stopped and asked if I could help him with something. He didn't say much, just asked if I knew you and if I could pass this note along.” Cooper fished a sealed envelope out of his back pocket and handed it to me tentatively. “Any idea who that might have been?”

  “Yep,” I sighed, observing the unmarked envelope.

  “And?” Cooper prompted.

  “My guess is that it was Gavin―from the docks. The one who scared the ever-loving shit out of me that night.”

  “Why would some strange old man who likes to say enigmatic things to young women during torrential downpours leave you a note on your shop door?”

  I paused before answering. Something in Cooper's words struck me as odd, and I wanted to review them quickly before answering him. He'd said “old man.”

  Cooper couldn't tell Gavin was a werewolf.

  I didn't know what to make of it, so I just shrugged at him in response, unable to find words.

  “So open it then,” he said, nodding toward the folded envelope.

  “It's been a long night, Coop. I really don't want to spend time trying to decipher meaning from some bizarre note left for me by some bizarre person. Can't it keep until tomorrow?” I pleaded, sounding as weary as I felt.

  He sighed heavily, looking uncertain about my proposal, but eventually he caved.

  “Alright,” he conceded, “for now.”

  I leaned toward him and reached up onto my toes to plant a gentle kiss on his cheek.

  “Thanks, Cooper.”

  He cupped the side of my face, giving it three soft passes with his thumb before releasing me.

  “Goodbye, Ruby.”

  Without looking back, he entered the building and locked the door behind him.

  * * *

  I made it about a block before I tore open the note from Gavin. He'd gone from creepy old prophet, to handsome young werewolf, to something that Cooper couldn't detect, and that did not sit well. He'd told me he had a “special gift,” but was his ability to alter his appearance also able to alter whatever sense werewolves had about one another? My mind started to crumble under the weight of possibilities.

  Ruby,

  I hope this note finds you well.

  You left very abruptly last night. There are things I still need to share with you. Important things. Things that can't go unaddressed any longer. Use discretion until we meet again. Do not forget what I have already told you.

  Gavin

  “What the...? Who are you?” I whispered to the note while I stood in the middle of the sidewalk. I just didn't know what to think. Gavin had done nothing to harm me in any way, in fact, quite the contrary―at every turn, he tried to keep me safe. But all his double talk and cryptic warnings were wearing thin on me, especially when most of them revolved around Sean. What could he possibly have still needed to tell me? What wasn't addressed that night? Discretion...was he kidding me? I didn't know the meaning of the word.

  Somebody pointed that out to me once. The man I was warned to avoid, but ironically was going to see that night. Gavin's instructions to use caution around Sean were totally unfounded. Whatever he thought he knew about the man I loved was wrong, and no amount of discussion or lecture was going to change that fact. At least that's what I told myself as I stuffed the letter deep into the side pocket of my bag―out of sight, out of mind.

  If only it were so simple.

  * * *

  “You still have twelve minutes left,” a voice called from the kitchen as I closed the front door. “I guess Cooper wasn't Captain Questions this evening.”

  “He wasn't there,” I said, hoping that would quell the conversation before it took an ugly turn. “I left him a note.”

  “And you think that will suffice?” he asked, eyebrow in full force.

  “I guess it'll have to,” I said, throwing my bag down in the bedroom. “Whatcha makin'?”

  The smell in the apartment was amazing. I was incredibly fortunate to have two men in my life who could cook since my culinary skills were disastrous, to say the least. Disastrous was an improvement given that they were nonexistent before Cooper lived with me.

  “None of your business,” he said, shooting me yet another look. “Go clean up. It'll be done when you get out.”

  “Geez, Mom. Okay...I'll go.”

  “I left you a towel out on the vanity.”

  “Thanks,” I replied before closing the bathroom door behind me. I hesitated for a moment, my fingers tentatively holding the lock. With a sigh, I let my hand drop limp to my side. Sean and I had to be at a point where locking the door for a shower was no longer necessary, so I didn't. Knowing him, he'd have had a way in if he felt the need anyway.

  Once I figured out how to use his space-age shower, l let it run while I undressed, taking my hair down from Peyta's hat. Seeing the congealed blood brought my attention back to the one thing I was trying my best to avoid. Everything had happened so fast at Ronnie’s that there was no time to think about the consequences of the choices I was making as I was making them. ‘Shoot first, ask questions later’ had become my M.O., and it was starting to take a toll on me mentally.

  I stepped into the shower and let the massive wall of sprayers and nozzles wash away the film of turmoil I'd accumulated. Pieces of the attack flashed through my mind as the water lulled my defenses away. I couldn't move, as if the paralysis from hours earlier had once again taken me over. I'd been attacked too many times to count, and wounded during most, but nothing scared me more than lying motionless, choking on my own blood.

  Not even being nearly gutted alive ranked higher.

  With that brutality, there was a certain peace; I accepted my death. However, the thought of never being able to move again, dance again, had shaken me so violently that I'd stuffed it all down just to make it through the day. With it all coming back in an instant, my system was overwhelmed—shutting down. I tried to reach for the soap, to do something mundane and innocuous. My arm wouldn't respond. As my breathing started to get tighter and shallow, I felt myself nearly convulsing to gulp in what little air I could, making a strange squeaky sound the few times I succeeded. Involuntarily, my body quaked all over like I was standing naked in a winter storm, cold beyond the point of warming.

  Calm.

  I felt him reach his arms around me, pulling me back against his body.

  “Breathe, Ruby,” he whispered in my ear. “You're safe.”

  The rise and fall of his chest tried to persuade my breathing to synchronize with his. He ran his hands along my arms, uncurling and pressing them gently to my sides. Then he went down my legs, convincing them to be still. He finished with a sweep of his hand across my back that released whatever was impeding my lungs.

  “Better?” he asked.

  I nodded in response. He gently turned me to face him, still pressing me tightly to his body as though releasing me even the slightest amount would allow the fear to seep back in and overtake me. Though subconsciously I mu
st have felt it, it never registered to me that he was fully dressed and soaked clear through until that moment. It made me chuckle.

  “No time to get undressed?” I asked, still sounding a little unhinged.

  “I heard you panicking,” he said calmly. “I came running.”

  His gaze was intense. He'd feared for me.

  “Thank you,” I said, pressing my cheek to his soggy shirt. “I'm alright now.”

  “I wondered when you were going to deal with everything that happened,” he said, stroking my hair that was still partially dry. I hadn't gotten around to dunking my head fully under the spray before my meltdown occurred. He must have encountered something questionable in it, and, without a word, he backed me under the water, reaching beyond me to get a bottle of shampoo.

  “I'm hoping that you were going to get to this eventually,” he said dryly.

  “Absolutely. That was my first post-panic activity.”

  “Of course.”

  He spun me around to face away from him before working the liquid into my hair slowly, his fingers massaging in tiny circles along my scalp. It was always my undoing.

  “Hey...is that Aveda shampoo?” I asked, unable to contain the thought for some odd reason. “You use that too?”

  “Yes and no.”

  “So...you sort of use it?” I asked, confused by his answer.

  “No,” he replied. “Yes, it's Aveda. No, I don't use it.”

  “Well, then why do you have it?” I asked, more baffled than before.

  “Because you use it,” he whispered in my ear, breathing on it just a little heavier than necessary.

  “Oh,” I replied, feeling flushed. “Does that mean you have my Dry Remedy conditioner too?” Without a word, he presented me with the familiar blue packaging. I turned it over in my hands for a moment, trying to make sense of him having it.

  “Give that back for a minute,” he said, reaching around me for the bottle. “You let the blood dry in there too long. This is going to have to sit for a minute or two or your hair will be a mess when it dries.”

  I snorted—I couldn't help myself. Sean discussing the condition of my hair was beyond off-putting.

  Before I got a chance to make an objectionable comment, he spun me around to face him. His eyes had darkened.

  “And since we have a couple of minutes to kill, I'm open to suggestions on ways to fill our time.”

  He leaned in and kissed me long and hard. When he pulled away, I gasped for breath exactly three times before I threw myself back at him, shimmying up his soaked jeans. I was thankful that he was dressed because, in hindsight, I would have likely landed on my ass if I’d attempted that move with both of us naked and soaped up.

  I wrapped my arms around his neck, fingers tangling in his wavy locks. The tiles he pressed me against were cold and I arched away from them reflexively, grinding my body into his. I was practically panting, though still able to kiss him with a newfound passion. Just as I reached down to unbutton his pants, he pulled away from me.

  “Time to rinse,” he said, smiling wickedly.

  “Screw rinsing,” I replied, wiggling my way back to him.

  “Nope,” he said, putting me down and marching me under the big-headed spout jutting out of the ceiling. “Shower, food, then play.”

  “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.