Page 92 of Devil's Bride

“Are they so disgusting you can’t touch them? Am I that repulsive?”

Her brows furrowed and she finally stood behind me. With tentative fingers, she gingerly brushed her fingers across one long scar, almost instantly curling them.

“You aren’t hurting me. I can’t feel them any longer, but they’re permanent reminders of who and what I am.”

“That’s terrible. Who did this to you?” No longer as afraid, she caressed my skin and not just as if forced to study a specimen, but as if she was worried about what I’d been through.

“My father.”

“What?” The shock in her voice was almost comforting.

“He decided to teach me a lesson about caring about anyone. He determined that I wasn’t allowed to have any other kind of life but that of a soldier. And in his world, soldiers could only accept sexual favors from a whore until being deemed acceptable to find a suitable wife.”

“Oh, my God.” She continued rubbing my back and for the first time, I felt something, sensations where there had been nothing before.

I took a deep, exaggerated breath, even allowing myself to close my eyes and enjoy the contact.

“What a horrible man.”

“His lesson was vital, although I didn’t realize it for several months afterwards. The girl I’d insisted I would marry and had fallen in love with wasn’t a seventeen-year-old girl, but an Interpol agent under cover. She was determined to bring myfather to his knees. The first of two mistakes. There would not be a third.” I closed my eyes, hating everything about my past. The memories were far too disturbing.

Her exhale was ragged. “I’m so sorry. What a fucking bastard.” She cocked her head, her eyes glassier than they’d been before. She continued caressing me, her sweet yet sizzling breath cascading across my skin making me feel even more alive. “Do you still talk to your father?”

I slowly turned around, taking her hand into mine. As I lowered my head, pressing my lips against her soft skin, she shuddered. I took my time kissing each finger, finally pulling one into my mouth.

Something changed in her eyes, a softness that hadn’t been there before. She pressed her other hand against my chest. The action wasn’t sexual. Her touch was meant as a healing gesture. In my mind, it was the sweetest and most confident move she’d taken with me. I would treasure it always.

When I freed her finger, she issued a slight whimper. “My father is a great albeit merciless man. He wasn’t always kind nor was he there often when I needed his support or his love, but he would die to keep me protected and I always knew that. Even now he’d do everything in his power to make certain nothing occurred I couldn’t handle. That’s the way I feel about you. I don’t want anything to happen to you, Genevieve. I don’t understand kindness. My world is about respect and following orders, but seeing life through your eyes is entirely different.”

She brushed her fingers down my chest so slowly I couldn’t see them move. “I do understand even if I don’t appreciate your tactics. I won’t take any risks and will make sure I follow your lead. For now.”

I brought her hand to my face, nuzzling against it. The warmth was amazing.

“What fathers must do is often in the best interest of their children, but not something they can fully explain. I hated my father for a long time even after learning what the woman had done to me. Yet slowly over time, I realized he’d spared my life and allowed me a better understanding of what was required and not just by him, but by the hand I’d been dealt.”

“I get it. We need to work together.”

“Yes, we do.”

“I’m not like you, Jago. My father didn’t beat me, but he did teach a sense of self-worth. Perhaps I haven’t listened to you or taken your life into account. I’ve been selfish enough to want mine to stay the same when that’s not possible.”

“I promise you that we can have a good life. It won’t always be easy and danger will remain with us, but we can forge out something that will make you happy.”

As I wrapped my fingers around her neck, she arched her back. When I kissed her, I wasn’t interested in taking anything from her. I only desired to repair the broken edges. She clung to me, issuing soft moans that I captured. I gently thrust my tongue past her lips, enjoying the taste of her even more than I had before.

The moment shared between us was cathartic, still electric, but the connection was even stronger. I could breathe her in for hours and hopefully, we’d have time to continue getting to know each other.

When I pulled away, she licked her bottom lip and the sight of her injuries grabbed at more than just my anger.

“What about you? What makes you happy? What makes the man inside feel joy?”

I thought about her question and for the first time, the answer came easily.

“You do.”

CHAPTER 26

Genevieve

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