Page 22 of Mortal Heart

Thoughts of his fine ass and other body parts had completely banished her concerns about the blood and roadkill smell. She yanked at his belt impatiently. “Okay, fine, sometimes blood is sexy. I guess I could feel the same way about the magic smell, given a good reason.”

His smile widened. “I can do much,muchbetter than just agoodreason, Miss Woodall.”

“Ever so modest.” She pulled his T-shirt free of his jeans. “Why are you wearing so many clothes?”

His hands caught hers and held them still. Startled, she looked up. His expression had turned grim. She spotted an unexpected glimmer of pain in his eyes before he had a chance to hide it. “What’s wrong?” she demanded.

“I have scars.” Gently, he pulled her hands away from his shirt and kissed her knuckles. “Bad ones.”

Oh, right—the scars. Back at Alice’s house, Arkady had glimpsed the symbols someone had cut into Ronan’s flesh over his ribs. Though Alice had never revealed the details of what had happened to him, Arkady had gleaned enough to understand the scars were some kind of cruel punishment.

She started to tell him she’d already seen his scars, but stopped. Something about the pain in his eyes told her he wouldn’t take the news well. He’d been unconscious and vulnerable when she’d seen them. Better to let him show them to her on his own terms.

“So you’ve got scars,” she countered. “Do I look like I care?”

She’d used his own words on purpose, hoping to elicit a smile and ease the sudden tension, but it didn’t work. His expression remained stony, and now he seemed to be pulling back. The frenzied desire that moments ago had them ready to tear off each other’s clothes began to evaporate.

“Of course you have scars. So do I.” She pointed to a knife scar on her left bicep, another on her forearm, and the semi-circular scar on the left side of her abdomen that had come from a .22 fired at point-blank range. “And those are just the obvious ones. I’ve been punctured more times than a cheating boyfriend’s tires. Your scars won’t bother me.”

When he still said nothing, she glared at him. “So you’re not going to win Mr. Universe with your shirt off. Big fucking deal. I’m no beauty queen myself.”

“I beg to differ.” He gave her a ghost of a smile. “You are so beautiful that when I first saw you, I thought you must be a Valkyrie come to this realm to hunt for sport.”

She blinked. AValkyrie?If anyone else had told her that, she would never have taken them seriously, but Ronan was not a bullshitter. If he said he’d initially mistaken her for some kind of supernatural being or goddess or whatever, then he had.

“Well, thank you,” she managed to say. “That’s a lot better than what I usually get called. You’re pretty hot stuff yourself.” She put her hands on her hips. “Now that we’re done complimenting each other like a couple of sorority girls, may I point out that you just got done saying we have nothing to prove to each other. Now you pull this, after promising me a good time? The least you could do is follow through, MisterI never leave my lady in the lurch.”

“I’ll happily follow through.” Now his smile turned roguish. “My Harley isn’t all I have that’ll give you a smooth ride—or a rough ride, if that’s what you prefer.”

That promise sent a shiver down her spine. Even her jeans felt wet along the seam at this point.

It wasn’t the worst offer she’d ever had—far from it, in fact—but she’d hate herself if she accepted, knowing he’d have those scars in the back of his mind, hidden under his shirt.

Whatwerethose symbols? What sadistic bastard had made them? And why would a man so fierce feel he had to hide them from a willing lover’s eyes?

“Ronan,” she said carefully, “if the shit really,reallyhits the fan while we try to get to the bottom of this trafficking thing, do you trust me to have your back?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

And damned if that didn’t turn her on almost as much as the thought of a rough ride.Forget firm asses, handcuffs, and all the rest, she thought wryly.Turns outtrustis my ultimate kink.

“Glad to hear it.” She took his hand and put his palm on her blood-splattered chest over her heart. “If you trust me with your life, you can trust me to see your scars.”

His mouth twitched. “Impeccable logic, Miss Woodall.” His smile faded. “The heart is not logical. Sometimes pain runs too deep.”

Arkady had her own share of pain she didn’t talk about. So who the hell was she to push Ronan past his boundaries? He’d respected hers.

“Okay.” She leaned forward and kissed his T-shirt where the cuts were hidden. He trembled at her touch. He didn’t try to hide it, which made something strange and light stir in her heart. He also didn’t seem to notice that she’d known where to kiss him. He’d probably assumed she’d guessed.

“Scars only have power if you let them,” she told him as she straightened. “And that’s the truth.”

“Even yours?”

“Yeah, even mine. I don’t pretend I’m an exception to the rule.” She touched her throat, then dropped her hand to her side. “I’m going to take that power back, though.”

His genuine smile returned. “Because fuck ’em?”

“Yep. So take yours back too.”

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