When I trudge into Addie's bedroom, I find steam spilling from the depths of her bathroom. I roll my head back, immediately overcome with images of her standing beneath the shower head, water sluicing down her naked curves. My cock hardens instantly, the tension in my muscles bracketing my muscles into stone.
Pushing the door open gently, I’m surprised to see her standing in front of the vanity mirror, eyes tracing her bare skin. There’s a frown pulling down her lips, and she stares at her reflection with a mixture of abhorrence and curiosity.
She tenses, hearing my intrusion, yet she doesn’t take her eyes off of herself. She’s completely naked, and the sight nearly sends me to my knees.
Both in worship and sorrow.
Two long, jagged scars slice across her back. The sight of them makes me viscerally angry, and it reignites my desire to kill the man who caused them. I vividly remember watching Dr. Garrison stitch those wounds through the camera footage.
Learning to accept my own scars was a process, and one I faced alone. But Addie will never face anything alone again. Soon, I’ll trace my tongue across each one and show her that she’s still beautiful with or without them.
Scars only serve as reminders of what we’ve survived, not what killed us.
Blood and dirt coat her pale skin, flaking from her body and onto the heated rock floor. She runs her hand across her flat stomach, drawing my eyes to her fingers. Slowly, I move closer until what she’s doing becomes clearer. Like plucking a string on a guitar, her nails claw at a tiny white scar.
“I had hoped these would fade,” she murmurs, keeping her voice low in an attempt to hide the wobble. “They’re more tragic when it’s another carving sorrowful memories into your skin.”
She flicks her gaze to me. “I hate them.”
I grit my teeth, fury building in my chest. I would’ve loved to have killed Xavier myself. Take my time with him as I did with Max. But it wasn’t my revenge to take. Though the satisfaction of getting her off before him is something I’ll cherish.
“Every time I look at them, I think of him,” she continues in a hushed tone. “I don’t want to look at my body and see anyone else but me and you.”
I stay silent and pull my hoodie and t-shirt over my head in one go. She doesn’t even glance my way, too lost in the memories that gave her those scars.
“Do they still hurt, baby?” I ask, unfastening my belt and jeans before removing those, too.
By the time she answers, I’ve completely undressed.
“Sometimes,” she whispers. “Sometimes they burn. As if the blade never stopped cutting through my skin.”
I hum in response, the anger continuing to rise in my chest. Just like water boiling in a pot, it’ll bubble over until everything I touch burns with me.
“Sometimes,” she starts again, her voice raspy. “I wonder how you could still possibly want me.”
I meet her stare through the mirror as I approach her from behind. That plump bottom lip finds its way between her teeth, and fear flashes in her caramel eyes.
It reminds me of those moments when I was a stranger, and she was an obsession I only knew from afar. So many times, that same look crossed her eyes. When she saw my roses or when I stood outside her window. Even more so when she was wriggling beneath my hands, arching into my touch while begging me to go.
It satisfied the dark part inside me reserved only for the woman standing in front of a mirror, wondering how strong she really is.
I craved her beyond good intentions, morals, and doing what’s right. I wanted her so badly, I threw away those things to make her mine.
And if she thinks a dark mind and scars marring her flesh would deter me, she still doesn’t grasp how deeply I long for her.
I press into her back, the heat of our bodies transferring into one another. She feels like a slice of heaven I’ll never have the honor of seeing, but I’ve always preferred to find paradise in the depths of Addie’s body.
My hand slides up the column of her throat, encouraging her to tip her head back against my shoulder, mouth parted.
“I’ve followed you through lifetimes, Adeline. My soul needs you so badly that I’ve become a shadow, destined to hunt you for eternity.”
Her eyes flutter, and a little moan slips free, nearly writhing from the promise of haunting her soul.
She was fucking made for me.
“If you think scars are going to turn me away, then you haven’t seen just how cruel I can be,” I rasp.
Her breath hitches, and those caramel orbs round, flashing with trepidation as they focus on me. Her pulse thrums wildly beneath my hand, and I want to sink my fucking teeth into it so I can taste how much I scare her.