Page 147 of Devilish Ink

It’s still not too late.The pyjamas are right there in your hand. Don’t do this to yourself.

I shuddered as the bathrobe pooled around my feet.

Tears pricked my eyes as I stared into the mirror. I lifted a heavy hand to trace the C-section scar on my belly. I didn’t mind this scar. It reminded me of our beautiful baby girl. Of our family.

In fact, I tried to hold onto this scar. To only see it in the reflection of the mirror. But my fingertip always seemed to reach the end of it too soon, as it was doing now.

We’d named our daughter Cahira which meantwarriorin Irish. And boy, was she a fighter. Even born prematurely, she refused to give up.

It seemed the world would relent to her and soon both mother and daughter were released from hospital.

But the shadows of the night that changed everything remained.

Our daughter’s birthday would always come on the day of my capture and torture.

My eyes stumbled from scar to scar, all over my body, all over me. Cutting across all the art on my body that I’d loved so much, making me feel and look like a broken doll.

Something no one would ever want to play with. Something rejected and worthy only of being thrown away.

My chin trembled as the urge to cry grew stronger. I hated that when I looked at those scars I thought of Balor. I didn’t wantto give the bastard even the dignity of space in my mind. But it was impossible to see anything else.

I was a ruined painting. Slashed. Irreparable. A Frankenstein stitched back together. I was horrific. Monstrous.

The door opened quietly and it was far too late to cover myself back up. To hide from Liam what I had been doing.

My cheeks grew pink from embarrassment as the door clicked carefully shut behind him.

Liam came to stand behind me, his warm hands on my hips. Warm hands which had just been holding our daughter. I wished all I saw was her and Liam. I wished I wasn’t covered in the evil of a monster.

A tear slipped from my squeezed eyelashes.

“You’re beautiful,” Liam said softly, his chin on my shoulder.

I shook my head.

Gently Liam turned me around in his arms so that I was facing him. I felt his fingertips at my lips.

“You. are.beautiful.”

I opened my eyes. His eyes were so earnest, so loving as they searched mine. He wanted me to believe him.

Iwantedto believe him. For his sake. So he didn’t have to see me cry.

But I couldn’t.

I remained silent, fighting back a fresh wave of tears.

Liam drew my trembling chin up and kissed me.

I loved the way he smelled, stubborn engine grease beneath his cedarwood soap. I loved the way he exhaled softly as he drew me closer to him, like my body was a relief to him, the way he intensified the kiss when I moaned softly, knowing what I needed even before I did.

I wanted him. Fuck, I wanted him. To have Liam back inside of me, to have him claiming me ashis. The desire burned deep in my belly.

I knew Liam wanted the same. He was hard against my thigh through his charcoal-grey sweatpants.

Liam’s hand slipped lower down my spine. My heart rate jumped with a flare of sudden panic, but I kissed him all the more passionately.

I wanted this, Ineededthis.

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