Page 118 of Ugly Beautiful Scars

"Some."

I feel a little embarrassed, realizing that I crashed with him holding me in a position that probably wasn't comfortable. "Sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for."

I spread my fingers over his chest, loving the firmness under my touch; his entire body is a solid foundation. Then I close my eyes and groan because my head still has a dull ache.

"Here." Sean hands me two pills off the nightstand.

God, this man is so thoughtful.

"Thank you." I sit up and swallow them dry. Then I feel the grit beneath my fingernails, and the clothes I slept in are twisted around my body, damp from a cold sweat. My hair is tangled and there's a sour taste in my mouth that swallowing isn't fixing. I need a shower; there's too much dirt from yesterday clinging to me.

I kiss Seans' cheek then climb out of bed and walk toward the bathroom. "Be right back."

"I'll be here."

I pause when he says that and glance over my shoulder. There he is, in my bed. And he's not going anywhere?

"I'm happy about that," I say softly, trying to express at least some of my feelings for him.

His lips curl up at one corner, creating that perfect half-moon shape that transforms his entire face from serious to playful. His head tilts slightly to one side, blue hair falling across his forehead in a way that makes him look boyish despite the strength in every line of his body. Clearly, there's no limit to how many times this man can make my heart flutter.

Before I abandon the shower and return to his arms, I quickly slip into the bathroom and close the door.

The shower is wonderful and just the right temperature, washing away the lingering bits of The Director's touch. I scrub and watch suds swirl down the drain like all the darkness I'm trying to purge.

But as I stand under the spray to rinse conditioner from my hair, I have flashes of my nightmare, then of yesterday, and the tears come. At first, I'm just weeping from the terror still in my body, the violation. Then the sobs turn to grunts and I press my fingers against the shower walls, clawing at the slick tiles. The tears become angry tears. Furious tears.

Howdarehe?

How dare The Director reach through time and space to disturb my life again? How dare he send his thugs to my workplace, to my street, making me feel hunted in my new city?

I smack my palms against the tile, another half-sob, half-grunt exploding from me. The woman in that room six years ago was young, naive, and trusting. She thought being polite and professional would keep her safe. She thought setting boundaries nicely would be enough.

Well, The Director killed that woman.

I'm not her anymore. I thought I could 'reclaim' myself but there's no way to reclaim something that's already gone. I can only rebuild. Ihavebeen rebuilding myself, piece by piece, and fucking Alan Miller tries to come into my life and kill the new woman I've become.

Well,fuck him.

I'm no longer Elle Livingston, his pretty little prey he can trap and consume. I'm Londyn, and I'm strong enough to stab him in the goddamn leg and strong enough to live my life despite the fear and fall in love.

I smack the tile again. I claw at the tile. "Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you!"

The locked doorknob rattles from Sean trying to get in, summoned by my manic screaming. He pounds on the door. "Londyn. What's wrong?"

"I'm… I'm okay." I croak out.

"What happened?"

I shake my head and huddle in a corner, not that he can see me. I'm trembling and still sobbing as Sean knocks again.

"Londyn?"

I know if I don't give a better response he's going to break open that door to make sure I'm really okay. I turn off the water and grab a towel. "I'm okay," I call out again weakly.

"You sure?"

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