Chapter 35
Iopened my door and was not surprised by the gift boxes sitting on the floor. Three of them, as there had been every day.
After the scene with Deborah, a few days had passed. They continued giving me space, not invading Dorian’s room that I’d claimed as mine. They always hovered near, but didn’t force themselves.
I crouched and picked up the two smaller ones and set them on the big one. Using my toe, I shut the door and scurried to the bed, excited to open them. Before my Scent Matches, I’d never gotten presents before, so all this was difficult not to get giddy over.
The big one was the first one to be unwrapped.
I tossed the wrapping paper aside and ripped open the box.
I grinned. Rafe had been giving me all sorts of comfy things.
Pillows, bed sets, comforters, and now this mink blanket.
I yanked it out and pressed it to my cheek.
Placing it next to me, I smoothed my hand over the softness once more, then reached for the flat gift, doing away with the wrapping.
An Epad! A new one and in a pretty yellow color. There was also an Epencil.
This had to be from Cade. He’d been gifting me tons of artsy things. His last gift was everything I could possibly need for watercolors. It was like he was going through different artistic styles.
Damn them for making me love every single thing they gifted me. The care and thoughtfulness they were putting into every gift was making it extremely hard to remain angry.
I grabbed the last small box. Please don’t be a car again. Dorian’s last present was a key that went to an expensive car. I hadn’t gone outside to look at it because I wasn’t about to encourage the crazy spending.
It wasn’t like I could drive, but Dorian had that covered too. He’d written a note with the key to tell me he’d teach me whenever I wanted.
They really were relentless. And so perceptive.
I gently ran my fingers over the string of pearls.
“Do you like it?” Dorian whispered, and I whipped my head to the cracked door where he stood. “May I?” Dorian waved a hand inside.
I hesitated for a beat, then nodded.
Dorian crouched in front of me and reached to pull out the necklace. I remained still as he unclasped it and reached up to put it around my neck. He leaned over and clasped it; his fingers lingering over my neck where his claiming bite remained. It had healed into a faint strawberry-colored mark.
I liked seeing it every morning, but soon, it would disappear.
“Elegant and beautiful, just like you.”
I pursed my lips. Dorian smiled softly and stood. I could tell he was about to leave.
“Wait,” I blurted. He turned toward me, eyebrows furrowed.
I stood and bunched the front of his long-sleeved button-down. He was dressed nicely, telling me he’d been on video calls for meetings. I tugged, and his eyebrows raised, but he followed my guidance until he hovered over my lips.
“I just have to make it clear. You can’t buy me. All these gifts are nice, but they wouldn’t be a reason why I’d want to give us a chance.” I paused and sucked in a breath. “If you ever hurt me like that again—”
His eyes widened.
“I won’t. I will never,” he blurted.
As I lifted my chin, I dragged him down. Our lips clashed passionately. I kissed him with all the pent-up frustration and love I had inside me. His big hands engulfed my waist, and he pressed me flush to his chest, forcing his cock against my belly. I moaned and slid my hands over his chest.
“I want to touch all of you.” I yanked at the shirt. He stiffened, eyes skittering away from mine. “What is it?”
Dorian straightened and cleared his throat. “You don’t have to look at them.”
“What are you talking about?” The furrow between my eyebrows was growing with every word.
“They’re disgusting. You shouldn’t have to touch them.” He frowned, and I kept looking at him. “My scars.”
I blinked repeatedly. He . . . doesn’t want me to see his scars? I scowled. “Do you hate mine? Is that what you’re saying?”
“No!” he blurted with a horrified look in his eyes.
“Good,” I breathed and slipped my fingers in his shirt and tore it open. Buttons went flying, and I grinned up at him. “Payback for my jeans.”
His eyes stayed wide, and he tried to move back, so I swatted his chest. I ran my hands upward and took the clothing with me.
I touched his shoulder, where his scars began and the shirt fell off them.
It took a tug near the cuffs, then he was no longer wearing it.
It pooled at his feet. I applied pressure to his shoulder until he dropped onto the edge of the bed.
Now with him sitting, I could see the rough edges of his scars.
Dorian avoided my gaze, and I clasped his jaw, forcing him to look at me.
I knew what he felt about them—the shame.
There was a certain stiffness in him, as if he were waiting for my criticism. I leaned down and kissed the little mole under his eye. His lips parted, and he dragged in a jagged breath.
I kicked off my slippers and knelt on the bed behind him. My chest refused to expand, and my eyes flooded with tears. The pain he must have felt.
Burns ran along the entirety of his back, the uneven puckered flesh broken apart by slashes. A deep line ran from the back of his neck and curved down the shoulder blade all the way below his rib like a cleaver had been taken to him. I blinked, and tears dripped. No, I couldn’t get all emotional.
He always seemed to roll his left shoulder like it was bothering him, and now I knew why.
It looked like his arm had been hacked off his body and sewn back in place.
I touched a long burn slashing across his lower back.
There were other scattered lines that looked like different items had been used to hurt him.
“Was this a poker?” I whispered, touching it gently.
Dorian cleared his throat. “Yes, a hot poker.” I moved my fingers upward.
I reached higher and higher until I managed to get to the shoulder blade. “And the biggest scar?”
“A saw.”
I clenched my teeth so tightly my jaw popped. Leaning down, I pressed a kiss to his shoulder. He jerked like I hit him. The thickness in my throat swelled.
“It hurts when it’s cold?” I asked even though I knew the answer.
“Yes,” he murmured gruffly.
I placed my hands on his shoulders and gently rolled my thumb into his muscle. The hard muscle gave under my fingers, and he groaned, leaning into my touch. I continued massaging his shoulder, taking my time. Dorian’s head fell forward, and his exhale sounded relieved.
Turning my head, I rubbed my damp eyes against my shoulder.