Page 47 of Beneath Scarred Vows
I let out a nervous giggle. "I think you might kill me if you do that again."
"Then I'll bring you back to life," he smiles.
Before I can even reply, he's lowering himself again, his intentions clear. Instinctively, I grip the sheets, readying myself to fall apart all over again.
16
ARES
Ilie on the bed with Katerina curled up against me, her head resting on my chest, her breathing steady. My thumb gently rubs up and down her right arm.
I can't stop looking at her, at the vulnerability she showed me tonight.
We've barely known each other for weeks, yet somehow, I feel closer to her in this moment than I've felt to anyone in years—maybe ever. And we haven't even had sex yet.
On that note, she confirmed what her uncle implied, she's a virgin. If she had just told me that, it would have been enough to alter things, but then she showed me something else.
Her scar.
When she lifted her dress, something shifted. The walls between us cracked just enough for me to see the woman beneath the seemingly I-don't-care attitude.
My fingers move to her burn again, my fingertips softly touching the scar from her ribs down below her waist.
I've seen burns before. I've caused them. But hers is different. It's not a mark of violence inflicted; it's a badge of survival.
When she first revealed it, her eyes held defeat before she even pulled away her dress. As if she expected disgust. As if she'd seen it before.
No woman should ever look that way—especially not my wife.
"What are you thinking about?" she murmurs without looking up at me.
"You," I answer honestly. "How brave you were tonight."
Her body tenses slightly against mine, almost imperceptible, but I feel it. She's bracing herself.
"I meant what I said earlier," I tell her, my voice low. "It doesn't take anything away from you."
She glances up at me. "You don't have to keep talking about it."
I nod. "I know, it's just... I don't want you to think anything of it. It makes you, you know? I don't want you hiding it, protecting it, thinking you're less."
Her eyes widen slightly. "Gosh, you notice everything, don't you?"
I smile. "I'm observant. It's kept me alive."
She forces a smile.
"I've hidden it for so long," she admits, her voice soft. "People either stare or pretend it's not there. Both are worse than the scar itself."
I cup her cheek. "People are cruel. They fear what they don't understand."
"And you understand?" There's a challenge in her voice.
"No," I say honestly. "I don't understand what you went through. I don't know what it's like to carry those memories on your skin. But I understand survival. I understand pain."
My thumb brushes across her cheekbone. "And I understand beauty."
A flush spreads across her face, and she looks away. "Don't."
