Her nose scrunched up as she groaned, and she dug her hand into the side of her hair to scratch her scalp in annoyance. “That’s different. I’m happy to do those things with you.”
“Why is it different?” His left hand fisted briefly before he loosened it. “I want to know what secrets you keep beneath your clothes. I want to give pleasure like you have for me.”
She eyed him, noticing his tense muscles, yet the defeated slump of his posture. Her eyes crinkled in a mingle of sadness and concern.
Gripping her left shoulder, she gave him the truth, but only the part that would hurt her, not him.
“I… don’t like anyone seeing underneath my clothing, Ingram, especially my torso. My scars are worse there, and I’m self-conscious about them.”
He tilted his head like he often did when he didn’t understand. “But you are beautiful, Emerie,” he stated sincerely.
The laugh she let out was cold; she was beginning to wish she hadn’t taught him that word – not when he wielded it like this.
“You can’t call something beautiful when you’ve never seen it, Ingram. You think you’re the first guy to want to see under my shirt, only to be horrified afterwards?”
“Then let me see, and I will tell you again.” He said it so confidently, so arrogantly, that she wanted to believe him. Yet his orbs slowly began to morph to green.
She’d only seen them turn that colour once, and she wasn’t sure what they signified.
Gosh, she felt like she was having an ugly competition with a Duskwalker! Here she was, worried he’d find her repulsive when he had a fucking skull for a face and a purple dick!
But she couldn’t help it.
Her chest burned with insecurity, smothering her until she was afraid she’d turn to ash. She’d suffered enough fire from her wounds, so why did it have to linger in her heart, and in her skin? For so long, she’d wanted to shed her skin and feel… wanted, attractive, loveable.
Instead, people found her hard to look upon, and that included strangers that tried their absolute best to look at anything other than her damn face. And her face had suffered the least. It was marred, it was noticeable, but it wasn’t as intense. With the right shadows, she thought maybe people wouldn’t notice anything if they didn’t look carefully.
Her body she couldn’t hide, and any guy that had snuck their hand up her shirt had immediately pulled away from the left side.
“Just… please let me bathe privately,” she uttered quietly, gripping at her biceps as her shoulders curled inward.
He turned his head to the side with his left hand clenching into a tight fist once more. “Why can other males see and touch you, but I cannot?” he growled so quietly that it was almost unnerving. His orbs brightened in their green hue. “You allow them to leave their scent on you, but you will not let me do so freely.”
Her lips parted in disbelief. He did not just say that to her. She doubted he meant it as though she easily spread her legs for anyone, but that was how she took it. Or rather, how she interpreted it… because she had started to feel that way about herself after Bryce.
Had she given in to sex too easily with him because she hadn’t wanted to be alone anymore? For a long time, she’d begun to wonder if Bryce liked her at all, or just that she had a warm hole she’d made available.
Even his parting words to her were ‘ugly bitch,’ which had been a fatal blow to her already small ego.
“That’s not fair,” Emerie whispered, feeling like a hypocrite.
“Your scent changes, Emerie. It grows warm and nice, different.” Her cheeks heated as a blush spread across them, embarrassed that he could smell when she grew aroused in his presence… by his presence. “I don’t know why, but it tells me that you are aroused. I feel it in my body. It calls to me, and I want it.”
How am I supposed to tell him that I want him to touch me… but can’t let him? How was she to do that without hurting his feelings, while knowing her rejections were already doing that?
He’s probably terribly confused. Her body was giving him the go ahead, that she wanted him, while her mouth said otherwise. She couldn’t imagine how much that would be eating at him.
“I want to touch you, as you touch me. I want to pleasure you like other males have.” The green in his orbs flared even brighter. “Why am I not good enough for you?”
He’s jealous… that’s what that colour means. And she figured the brighter it was, the more it bit at him. Oh, Ingram.
If only she could tell him that a guy hadn’t made her orgasm in a long time – years, in fact. It was like her pussy had been telling her the truth about Bryce, even if her stupid head and desperate heart wouldn’t.
Ingram lifted his hand to wrap it over the side of his beak with his orbs shifting to blue. “Is it because I am Mavka?”
Tears instantly welled in her eyes, for him, for herself. She stepped towards him, reaching out with trembling hands.
“Ingram…” The rest of her response clogged in her throat.
How do I tell him yes and no at the same time?
The closer she got to him, the more she could see the big guy was trembling as well. Confused, upset, unsure. He even darted his arm away from her before she could grasp his hand and offer him comfort.
“I do not have a face like you humans. I have scales whereas you have skin, a tail whereas you have none. Do you hate these things about me?”
“I don’t hate them at all,” she reassured. “That’s not why, Ingram.”
“Your people called me a monster, Emerie,” he snapped at her, his orbs flashing bright red. “They called me ugly and horrible as they held my heart in their hands. Do you see me as a monster?”
“You’re not a monster, Ingram!”
He may be monstrous on the outside, but she’d met humans who were vile and despicable on the inside. He may be a monster, but she didn’t want him thinking that about himself. She didn’t want him to associate that word with himself negatively, when she’d been using it endearingly in her mind.
“Then why am I not good enough to be special to you?!” he roared. “I don’t know what I am doing wrong, and you will not tell me so I can fix it.”
Despite his sudden burst of aggression, she didn’t back away in fright. No, instead desperation and self-loathing set in.
Emerie couldn’t take it anymore.
Ingram was so damn sweet and kind that he didn’t deserve to feel this way, not when she knew he was more than good enough, and more than she thought she deserved. There were far prettier, smarter, and kinder people out in the world than her, so what right did she have to keep the truth from him?
She darted forward before he could even react and grabbed his wrist. She shoved his hand, palm facing him, upwards in the air between them.
“This is why, Ingram!” He flinched at her shouting, and that only made the fresh tears falling from her drip faster. “Because you have claws!”
He brought his hand closer to his skull, like he wanted to inspect his own claws, then his orbs morphed to a deeper blue. He pushed through her hands so he could cup the side of her face.
“But I have been gentle with you. I have been trying to show you I will not hurt you again.”