Page 7 of Beautiful Scar

“What happened?”

“You tripped and landed on your face.”

“Oh.” I reach up and touch my nose. I wiggle it a little. “Doesn’t hurt.”

“That’s good. Tough little kitten.” He reaches up and brushes a thumb down my scar. My spine tingles, and I stare at him, mouth hanging open. “Pretty thing too.”

“My scar? Pretty?” I’m having trouble making sense of that. It’s mostly covered with foundation right now, but it’s visible up close. Most people pretend like it doesn’t exist. They’ll look at anything but the ugly patch of puckered skin running from my cheekbone to my jaw.

But this guy just touched it like it’s nothing.

“Very pretty. Means you’ve been through something.”

“Hard for me to see it that way.” I adjust myself so I can see him better. I can’t tell if this guy’s full of crap or what. “Are you the person I’m supposed to marry?”

He nods slightly. His eyes sparkle with amusement and mischief for a moment before he quickly composes his face. Hard mask back in place. What’s he hiding from?

“My name’s Tigran.”

“I’m Dasha. Honestly, I never do this.”

“Get married? Me neither.”

“No, I mean faint.”

“I have that effect on women.”

I stare at him, trying to figure out if he’s joking, but that cool expression is difficult to read. Who the heck is this guy? And why do I like being so close to him, even though I haven’t been touched by someone outside of my family in forever?

He’s comforting me. He’sprotectingme. And I like that.

It was the way he brushed his thumb down my scar.

Like it was no big deal. Like he really thinks it’spretty.

That’s not a word I’ve heard someone use to describe my disfigurement before.

There’s just something raw and attractive about him.

My father comes forward. “Dashenka, darling, maybe we should?—”

“Give the girl a fucking moment,” Tigran snarls, staring at my father with undisguised loathing. “This wouldn’t have happened if you had prepared her.”

“You don’t understand,” Dad says, looking strangely afraid. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him scared before in my life. Who is this man I’m going to marry? My father’s not afraid of anyone. “It had to be this way.”

I open my mouth to defend him.Dad had no other choice. If he’d told me sooner, I would’ve found a way to run. It’s true, I’m crazy. I’m a shut-in, a weirdo, a creep. Didn’t you know that? Everyone else does.

But I say nothing. I know I’m supposed to speak up for my family, but for the first time in a while, I can’t make myself follow the rules.

Not when it feels like my father so thoroughly shattered them already.

Screw my dad. Let him feel bad. He freaking deserves it.

“Tigran, brother, we do need to get moving.” The other man from earlier kneels down and nods at me. “Are you all right?”

“I think so.” I shuffle away from Tigran and sit up. “I’m just a little dizzy, that’s all.”

“Arsen, maybe we can postpone.” Tigran’s jaw works. “This wasn’t done well.”

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