He brought Isla’s bag in with him and laid it on the loveseat. Rosa had squeezed Reed’s arm before she left.
He walked deeper into the room. Isla’s lips tingled. Her mouth dried.
Rosa laced my food with some funky love poison. I know it.
Admitting how she felt terrified her, but she didn’t want to run. She glanced down at her wedding band. Without Reed, she felt empty.
“You look scared,” Reed said.
“I am.”
“Why?”
“You.”
“Me?”
“I have no self-control.”
“Good.”
Reed’s voice resonated inside her chest as she released a breath. His fingertips outlined her lips. Soft. Refined. Her awareness of him overwhelmed Isla. She’d been dead inside for years.
Lost.
Lost and scared.
A wrecked mess.
Visions of what Ronan had done — the lashings, the degradation — flashed. She couldn’t stop the tears from spilling. Reed raised her gaze to his. He wasn’t Ronan. Reed wasn’t Ronan.
He isn’t Ronan.
Reed thumbed her tears, smeared them into her skin. She blinked, and they came again. They overflowed her but didn’t drown her. Instead, they carried her closer to him.
He lowered his head, brushing his lips along her collarbone. Isla tipped her head back. Reed’s hair tickled and brushed along her skin. His arms enveloped her waist. God, Reed’s touch took her higher.
He glided his hands beneath her shirt. Fingers dug into Isla’s sides.
Along her ribcage and her breast. Isla raised her arms — silk skated along her flesh. She ignored the slight twinge in her shoulder. The neckline glided over her face. Reed dropped it to the floor. Her arms lowered, spine shuddered, skin dampened. Isla wanted to be there with him, in the same emotional space, but fear caused her to pause.
Reed would see her disgrace. See what Ronan did to her. What she allowed him to do to her. Shame. Pure shame Isla couldn’t hide anymore. She crossed her arms over her breasts and stepped away from him.
His eyes narrowed.
Isla shook her head.
Reed moved closer.
Prickles swept across her skin.
He reached out to her. “What did Ronan do to you?”
Isla’s pulse flooded her ears. The earth fell away. She felt nothing as her feet pivoted slowly. Her back faced Reed. She hunched and closed her eyes. Intricate onyx wings covered her back — and her scars. Her skin weaved together into silver marks of persecution and ink. Each feather was knitted with precision. Many times Isla envisioned her black feathers extracting from her shoulder blades, the soft fringe lifting her up into the sky.
Cool air pranced along her exposed skin until she felt warmth, skin on skin. Tender fingertips traced the black feathers.
“Beautiful,” Reed whispered.
“I’m not.”
“You are. Don’t ever think or speak differently.”
His hands dropped to her waist. Reed’s hot breath floated along her skin. His lips grazed each scar. Slow. Excruciating. She stopped breathing for a moment.
He lowered.
Reed injected a cure for her despair and blame. He eliminated all her ghosts. Her secrets became his truths.
Silence cradled them.
Reed’s touch flowed through Isla, ripening her blood, bringing new life to her dormant heart. The empty spaces filled. Isla warmed. He flooded her. With every breath she took, Reed became a part of her, but panic shook her away from him. She wasn’t ready to be intimate. Isla set boundaries when she became his wife. The scars and the marks of beauty from her pregnancy, she kept covered.
Isla turned in his arms. “I can’t.”
Reed pulled her tight against him. Lips lingered. Isla wasn’t ready; though his touch divine, she needed more time. Intimacy was painful for her. Isla never thought she’d have a connection with anyone. Ronan pounded into her with rage, violated her. He was dead, but the marks would never go away. The memories would never go away. For a second, Isla felt like she was losing it. Tears rolled down her face. Reed motioned toward the mirror near the dresser. “Come with me.”
With one arm crossed over her breasts and the other across her abdomen, Reed guided her ahead of him, her back pressed against his shirt. He smoothed her hair away from her face, tucking loose strands behind her ear. His chin hovered above her shoulder.
“Let your arms drops.”
“No.”
“Do you trust me?”
“I’m trying,” Isla said, and tightened her arms until her breasts throbbed from the pressure.
“I won’t hurt you, Isla.”
“You will.”
Reed pressed his lips against her bandaged shoulder. “I won’t, not ever.”
Isla squeezed her eyes shut. Her heart raced through her veins. Isla uncrossed her arms. Her ample breasts exposed, silvery lines ran across her hips and stomach. Reed slid his hands down her arms; their gazes collided inside the mirror.
“He can never touch you again.”
Dark-eyed Reed trailed kisses along her neck, shoulder blade, and spine. His hands held her like precious stone or metal. He revered the curves that flowed and caressed her skin.
This was the humanity that dwelled inside Reed Pierce. This was the man she fell in love with.
Rosa was right.
She loved.