Page 61 of Knot Made to Break: Part One

“Come on, Butterfly,” Tommas called, treading water effortlessly. His wet hair was slicked back, droplets clinging to his long eyelashes. “The water’s perfect.”

Marco lounged on a nearby pool float, his muscular arms folded behind his head. “Yeah, stop being a chicken and get in here,” he teased with a roguish grin, as if his skin wasn’t pebbling with goosebumps from the drastic change in temperature between the warm water and the crisp air.

I hugged myself tighter and arched a brow at him. “You look cold.”

Marco laughed and slid a hand along his rippling, tattooed abs. Up and down, like he was playing a damn washboard. And I couldn’t help but drink in the sight.

“I think you meant sexy. I looksexy.”

I tried to hold back the responding grin and failed. Rolling my eyes, I added, “Andcold.”

“It might be chilly out, but the water is warm, Angel,” Marco grinned, his hazel eyes twinkling with playful encouragement.

I hesitated, my fingers tightening around the hem of my sweatshirt. My heart began to race as I contemplated undressing. Logically, I knew the guys had already seen me in various states of undress, but this felt different somehow. More exposed. More vulnerable.

My gaze swept over their chiseled forms, all delineated muscle, artful tattoos, and golden skin. They were Adonises come to life, while I… I bore the marks of my past like a roadmap of pain.

Unbidden, memories flashed through my mind, and suddenly I wasn’t standing poolside. I squeezed my eyes closed against the assault, but the waking nightmares chased me—cruel hands gripping too tight, leaving bruises in their wake. The sharp bite of a knife carving into my skin. Rocco licking my blood from the glinting blade. The sickening crack of flesh meeting flesh whenever I disobeyed.

My breathing kicked into overtime, my chest rising and falling in fast pants. Panic clawed at my throat. I spun quickly before any of them realized I was breaking apart and crossed to one of the lounge chairs, trying to pull myself together.

What if they were disgusted by the sight of the light, silvery lines that criss-crossed my thighs and abdomen? What if seeing the full extent of my scars made them realize I wasn’t worth all this effort?

“Hey.” Giovanni’s deep, low timbre broke through my spiraling thoughts. He must’ve left Dimitri’s side at the grill and headed my way, given how close his voice sounded, and yet, I hadn’t expected his large hands to land on my shoulders a mere second later. Muscles tensing, I flinched, sucking in a sharp, startled gasp. He released me instantly.

Turning, I blinked, focusing on the tattoos that decorated his chest. “S-Sorry.”

“Don’t,” he snapped, but deep down, I knew it wasn’t at me. Not really. “Don’t apologize for being human. For having thoughts, feelings, and reactions.”

I nodded, unable to make words pass through my tight throat. Instead, I traced the intricate skull that covered one hard, muscled pectoral. There was a dagger jutting through the top of it, the pointed tip protruding from the bottom.

Releasing a calming breath, Gio tried again. “Where did you just go, sweetness?”

I tipped my face up. And it was all he needed to see. Tears swam in my eyes, and I sniffled, trying to hold them back.

“Shit. Come here.” He pulled me into his arms, and this time, I didn’t startle. Imelted. “What set this off? Was it something Tommy or Marco said?”

“No,” I mumbled into his chest, breathing in his earth and iron musk.

“Then what, Dolcezza? We can’t help fix it if we don’t understand.”

“I don’t think I can be fixed, Gio,” I admitted forlornly, stating my biggest fear outright.

“Fuck, sweetness. You’re not broken. You don’t need to be fixed. You need to beloved.”

That sentiment went straight to my soul like a balm.

“I have scars.” The words were a mere whisper of sound, easily caught by the breeze and carried away as if they’d never been said at all. But Gio, who was so attuned to me, heard each one.

His thumb grazed under my chin as his hand cupped the side of my throat. “That’s not news to us.”

I winced. Of course it wasn’t. I’d been covered with scabs and scars when they’d found me. But it wasn’t quite the same as baring all to them—willingly.

Gio shifted closer, dipping his head when my gaze tried to slide away. I was utterly captured, his hazel depths staring deeply into my blue ones, urging me to listen closely. “Every part of you is fucking beautiful. Trust me.” Angling his mouth over mine, he gave me a possessive kiss I felt all the way to my toes. Rough palms cupped my face, thumbs stroking over my cheeks as he rested his forehead against mine. “Long story short, you survived. Your scars don’t make you less. They make youmore. Every single one of them is a battlefield you fought through.”

“What you see when you look at them is a woman who’s broken, but whatwesee is a woman forged in fire, made of steel,” Dimitri said smoothly from where he joined Gio, standing just behind him and off to the side. My gaze flicked his way, and I was instantly ensnared in that dark, intense stare of his.

“I don’t feel strong.”

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