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“That must’ve been very traumatic to watch. I shouldn’t have been so rough with you tonight.” His comment lures me out of the dark thoughts, pushing them back inside their boxes.
“There’s a difference between roughness and rape. Someone completely betraying your trust. Making you feel small and weak. Worthless.”
“What I wouldn’t give to have been in that room that night.” The shadows behind his stare send a curling shiver down my spine as I imagine what unseen thoughts have captured his focus. “They would’ve regretted laying a hand on that girl.”
In spite of the distress humming through my veins, I try to picture that. The Devil of Bonesalt teaching those adolescent boys a lesson in karma. What a different outcome it might’ve been, and perhaps I wouldn’t have been plagued with so many nightmares after. “You’re the first time I feel safe.”
“And you’re the first time I’ve felt anything in a long time.” He kisses my forehead, squeezing my nape. With each passing second, the memories seal tighter, and my muscles tremble less.
“Tell me about the music. How did you come by such a gift?” His change of topic is a welcomed distraction from the few lingering sensations still humming inside of me.
I exhale a shaky breath, mentally willing my head to let go of the phantom images still clouding my head. “No idea. My dad, maybe? Except, I don’t know anything about him. He died when I was young. Definitely wasn’t my mother, though.”
“What do you intend to do with it?”
Shrugging, I shake my head. “I haven’t thought about it.” Leaning forward, I press my lips to his and feel his hands slide down to my hips. “Enough about me. I want to know about you. How did you get your scars?”
“I’ll tell you sometime, but not tonight.” Thumb tracing the edge of my jaw, he seems to be lost in thought again. “It’s a long and unpleasant story. And you need sleep.”