The backless slip dress I chose to wear to the wedding showed the scars on my shoulder, but I didn't care. I loved the wisps of flowers in golden sequins glittering around the hem and bodice. The satin belt at the waist and the pale blush fabric made it romantic enough for a wedding, but the plunging neckline showed a hint of cleavage. I'd spent hours practicing walking in these rose-colored platform pumps with matching golden embroidery.

I pulled on a sheer shrug and left my hair loose to cover the scars on my left shoulder. They were still visible when I moved my hair away, but so what if someone noticed? They'd never know I didn't scratch myself climbing a tree or something. I added amethyst bracelets and matching studs and looked in the mirror. Not bad. I liked this new me.

I watched my feet as I walked toward Rogan, making sure not to eat it.

"Jesus, Tess."

I tugged at the spaghetti straps of my dress without looking up at him. "Don't judge me, Rogan. I picked this dress because it's sparkly and I like it. I'm wearing it no matter what any man thinks."

When I stopped and looked up, his eyes were hooded and dark. Lord have mercy. Rogan's chiseled features and tapered waist were even more breathtaking in a suit. He kept his stance casual, like a dark suit with an ivory shirt and thin black tie was just another uniform for him.

His eyes caressed me from head to toe. "Wasn't gonna criticize you. You look fantastic. You'll outshine the bride."

"I doubt anyone could outshine Yolanda..." and her enormous boobs.

"My Sunshine could." He cleared his throat and held his hand behind my back without touching me. "Let's go."

In the parking garage below the apartments, Rogan opened the passenger door to a shiny, black four-door Chevy Silverado.

"Up you go." The skin on my waist buzzed where his big warm hands supported my weight to help me into the seat. The truck interior smelled new. Rogan may not spend money on his apartment, but he'd invested in his truck.

As we pulled away, I asked, "How long have Yolanda and Diesel been dating?"

"Three months."

"Oh. Isn't that kinda quick?"

"Yes. And stupid."

"You don't think they'll make it?"

"Not if he stays enlisted."

"Why do you say that?"

"He'll be gone a lot. The weight of separation strains a marriage. Most of them break."

"Couldn't she live on base with him?"

"Men in my unit don't live on a base. And the places he's deployed are entirely too dangerous for a wife to follow. She has to wait at home and pray each night she doesn't get that knock at the door delivering the news no wife ever wants to hear."

"I hadn't thought much about military wives before. I bet she's thrilled when he comes home."

He nodded. "Diesel thinks if he has someone waiting at home for him, he has a greater chance of making it back alive. It's bullshit. Grenades don't skip over men wearing rings. Best to stay single and guarantee you don't destroy someone's heart when you die."

"What a grim outlook."

"Reality, Sunshine."

"And every time you come back, no one's waiting for you?"

He cringed and his voice became defensive. "I don't need anyone. Just a job. I come home, go to work, no big deal."

Ah, yes, I'd struck a raw nerve. "And how many times have you been deployed?"

"Can't tell you."

"More than ten?"

He raised one eyebrow and quirked his lips.

"More than twenty?"

"Takoda doesn't always go with me. Sometimes she's here when I get home," he said as he pulled into the parking lot of an upscale golf course.

***

We sat at the back of the crowd as Diesel and Yolanda exchanged vows in a sunset ceremony overlooking the lake. A female vocalist sang of everlasting love, and I couldn't help but think about Rogan coming home to an empty apartment after risking his life in the desert or wherever they'd sent him.

Blaze looked sharp in a tuxedo as Diesel's best man, but nothing compared to Rogan in a suit. He was sexy as hell.

After the dinner at the reception, the music started and I stood up. "Dance with me," I asked Rogan.

"I don't dance."

"C'mon, be my first dance."

"No."

"I'll dance with you, Swift." Blaze rose from his seat and offered me a hand.

I took it and followed him to the dance floor. He wrapped one arm around my waist and held our hands together in the air as he guided us to a mellow song.

"You excited to move in with me tomorrow?"

"Yes, the lengthy move down the hallway."

"I'm warning you, I walk in my sleep."

"Oh, really? What should I do if I see you sleepwalking?"

"Just invite me into your bed, I'll fall right back to la-la land."

"Ha! No way. Platonic roomies. Nothing else."

"Absolutely," he said and pressed his lips together.

The song changed to a provocative beat, and Blaze moved us together to the music. The dance floor pulsed with the tension of attractive people smiling and swaying to the groove.

Diesel rocked his hips into Yolanda like he wanted to take her right there. I bet after the reception, he'd rip off his bride's dress in a hurry to be inside her. Or maybe they'd be so eager, they wouldn't even take the time to undress. They'd fuck on the floor in a haze of tulle and diamonds. She wouldn't care about stains on her dress because she'd be lost in him.

I bit my lip and Blaze pulled me closer. I caught Rogan watching us with dark eyes and stiff shoulders. Could he read my naughty thoughts? Maybe he was jealous of my dancing with Blaze. Probably not. He stood and strode to the balcony without a glance back at us.

***

I left Blaze on the dance floor and followed Rogan to the balcony. He rested his elbows on the railing as he gazed out to the lake.

"I've never seen a wedding as nice as this. The weddings back home were subdued events. The couple pretending to be in love, the other wives pretending to be happy."

He tilted his chin toward me and squinted. "What else have you never seen?"

I mirrored his position on the railing, and stared out at the darkness of the golf course, trying to see what he was looking at. "I've never seen the sun set over the ocean. I've never been to a concert. I've never traveled anywhere for fun. Lots of things others take for granted."

"How'd you get those marks on your shoulder?"

I snapped up and covered my shoulder with my hand.

"Do all the kids in Caldwell have those?"

"Only the evil ones."

His forehead creased, and his lips turned down. "Did your father do that to you?"

"He marked our transgressions on our skin."

Rogan's hands balled into fists. "And what'd you do to earn those?"

"I defied him."

"How young?"

"Don't ask me that."

"How old the first time?"

"Five."

Rogan stared out into the distance and hunched his huge shoulders. "What did he use?"

"Sugar cane. To keep us sweet."

His chest rose and fell with his deep sigh. He turned to me and held up his arm, giving me the choice. I stepped closer to him, and he enfolded me in his embrace.

I tucked my head into the safety of his hard torso and let the bliss of his closeness wash over me. He flexed his fingers over the scars on my shoulder.

"He use his fists on you?" The scruff on his chin scratched against my hair as he spoke.

"Sometimes." He rubbed his hand up and down my arm. "I'm a troublemaker. Maybe that's why my father sent me on such a dangerous mission. He wanted to get rid of me."

He raised his head, and his hands on my upper arms forced me to look at him. "Bullshit. He knew you were the most beautiful child he had. A sterling Palomino he couldn't tame. He wanted to possess you in a way he couldn't all the other women. He couldn't corral you and put you in his stable. Probably scared the shit outta him the places you'd go, the woman you'd become."

I peered up into his eyes. Rogan's compliments caressed my heartache like his calloused fingers on my shoulder.

"You should've been hugged. Often. Your parents let you down." He pulled me back into his arms. "Your dad touch you in any way besides his fists?"

"He... "

"Go ahead."

"He traveled a lot. But when he was in Caldwell, he'd spend one night with each wife. When my mom died..."

"Yeah?"

"I took her night."

"Your mom died and you took her night."

My cheek mashed against his dress shirt as I nodded. "He would... sleep behind me."

Rogan's arms clenched around me. "Sleep."

"Yes. Sometimes he—"

He squeezed me so hard, he crushed the air from my lungs.

"Uh. Too tight."

He released me and paced away. With his elbows on the balcony railing again, he spoke to the dark night. "He rape you?" His voice came out as a low rasp.

"No. It's difficult to discuss." I twisted my fingers. "He said only intercourse between married people was condoned by God."

He whirled to face me. "Really."

"He thought I carried my mother's soul."

"And..."

"He'd leave his seed between my legs to offer to God as communion with her." I covered my face with my hands. "I should've fought h— "

"No. None of this is your fault."

"He said he'd kill me if I fought him. He'd kill Milo if I told anyone."

"He's got thirty wives and still molests his daughter? What a filthy son of a bitch."

"He didn't rape me."

"It doesn't matter. What he did was wrong."

"Yes."

He curled his palm on the nape of my neck beneath my hair. "You say Takoda's brave, but you are a strong, courageous woman. Your mom would be proud of you."

"I don't know. The sister wives said I was a bad seed."

"Those whack jobs worry way too much about seed."

"They said my soul was damned."

"They were wrong. He programmed them to think that way." His fingers squeezed and twined into my hair. "You've been held prisoner. Twice. Unjustly captured by evil people. They could've killed you, but you survived. You're safe now. And you're free."

I nodded and closed my eyes. "Because of you." I could never thank Rogan enough for rescuing me from the hell in Afghanistan and the misery of Idaho.

As he drew my forehead to his chest, the hook in my heart dug in deeper. His arm around my back bound us together like a thick iron rope.

We stayed like that for several deep breaths before he spoke. "And you are not damned. You're the closest thing to an angel I've ever seen."