Page 5 of Beautiful Soul

Lena licked her lips at the scents wafting from the tray. “It smells delicious.”

Kingsley nodded. “Mystic is an amazing cook. I’m sure it will taste even better than it smells. Would you like to pour?”

Lena returned his nod with one of her own before turning her attention to the tray. Teacups with saucers, a large teapot shaped like a teddy bear, and a plate with several croissants filled the tray along with fancy butter knives and teaspoons. There was also a small pitcher of what she assumed was cream and a bowl of sugar. The table already held small crockery ramekins filled with butter, strawberry jam, and something that looked like honey.

It appeared that Mystic had included everything for a proper tea.

Recalling her mother’s Sunday afternoon etiquette lessons, Lena picked up one teacup and saucer and carefully filled it before handing it across the table to Kingsley who murmured, “Thank you.”

It helped her nerves to have something to focus on other than the hot, sexy man across from her. Picking up the second cup, she tried to ignore the tremor in her hand that had the cup jittering on the saucer. She filled it quickly before carefully setting down both the pot and her cup. Only then did she actually look into her cup. “It’s purple.”

“It’s lavender tea,” Kingsley said with an indulgent smile. “Lavender will help you relax.”

Dropping her hands beneath the table, Lena rubbed them together, trying to dispel the tingles that had come out of nowhere. It was the kind of tingling she usually felt when she slept on her arm wrong and her hand had fallen asleep.

“I won’t hurt you,” Kingsley said softly. “I just wanted to meet the woman who posted such beautiful, insightful thoughts online in the wee hours of the morning for the past few weeks. It felt like you needed a friend.”

Lena nodded as she turned her attention to adding a spoonful of sugar to her tea. “A friend would be nice. Since … well, let’s just say that the few friends I once had have drifted away the past couple of years. It’s hard to make new friends in person when you look like the female version of Frankenstein’s monster.”

The silence after her last statement grew so thick and heavy she needed a butcher knife to cut through it. After carefully stirring her tea, she laid the spoon down and finally lifted her gaze to look at the man sitting across the table.

He was now studying her as if she had suddenly grown a second head and turned purple. But he looked serious.

“You are a survivor,” he finally said after taking a deep breath. “Your scars are a sign of your strength and bravery to continue moving forward in life despite the challenges. You are also more than you believe yourself to be.”

Lena wanted to argue that she was a frightened monster, not strong or brave, but one look into Kingsley’s face and she could tell he would not hear her.

But she knew the truth.

“How did you get them?” he asked. He placed a big, fluffy, still-steaming croissant on a plate and set it on the table in front of her.

Lena hesitated a moment. He seemed interested, and not in a morbid curiosity sort of way.

Could she bare her secrets to him?

Or should she just drink her tea and take her leave?

Looking at him again, Lena took a deep breath before dropping her gaze to the table. “Dennis, my ex-husband, went crazy and attacked me the day after the divorce was finalized. He came to my house, knocked me out, and tied me up. He then cut me all over and smeared dirt and oil into the cuts so they ended up infected. My neighbor heard my screams and called the police. He ran away when he heard the sirens, but they gave chase. When they cornered him, he cut his throat and bled out before they could arrest him. The doctors did what they could for my cuts, but I was still left with some pretty bad scarring.”

Lena spoke as if she were reading a news report, without emotion or inflection. She had told the story so many times she no longer teared up or grew angry. It was what it was and she had survived, that was what mattered, at least that’s what she kept telling herself.

But she was lonely and wished there were someone around who could see beyond the scars to the person beneath, who knit hats for homeless charities and made cookies for her neighbors. Someone who saw she loved baby animals and hated conflict. A man who could love her despite her physical appearance.

A growling sound had Lena lifting her gaze to look at Kingsley. He did not look horrified by her story, but angry. Beyond angry. He looked enraged.

For her?

“Kingsley?” she said, but did not know what her question was. “You okay?”

The man blinked and the dark outrage bled out of his expression. “Sorry. I just wished your ex were still alive so I could hunt him down and kill him. But I refuse to bring him back to life just to kill him again.”

“I’m sorry,” Lena said without thinking.

“Why are you sorry? It’s not your fault.”

Lena shrugged. “You’re upset because of me.”

“Not because of you, but on your behalf. For now, let’s move on to other, more pleasant subjects in the hopes of relaxing you enough to sleep.”

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