Page 133 of The Scars Within
The Grim’s instructions are clear: Scarlet must be brought to the mountain today. I pleaded with him to reconsider, but his responses grew more curt with each attempt. If I fail to deliver her by evening, he’ll expose my secret—my true identity as a mage.
I screamed and ripped the note apart. But that didn’t soothe my guilty conscience.
As I headed back to my room after preparing the wagon in the stables, I turned a corner, and my hood slipped momentarily.
“Oh hey, Wylder!”
The sound of Lakota clearing his throat in my mind jolted me awake.
“Might want to get dressed before someone finds you two,” he advised with a playful tone. “Noemi is worried sick.”
“I am dressed,” I responded groggily.
He huffed in response, clearly finding my statementridiculous.
I tried rolling over, but Rhodes’s warm body was nestled against my back. Smiling, I reached behind me with my left arm, curling it around his head, fingers absentmindedly playing with his hair.
“Mmm, I’m pretending the sun isn’t up,” he murmured, eyes still closed. I wondered how long he’d been awake, then shivered as he pressed a tender kiss to my shoulder. The morning light stung my eyes as I blinked them open.
“You know,” I began, glancing over my shoulder at him as he propped his head on one hand. “Last night didn’t exactly feel like someone’s first time.”
He smirked, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “I read a lot,” he admitted, his deep morning voice sending a fresh wave of warmth through me. So that’s what he meant when he said the book series he was reading was dirty... Maybe I need to borrow those books. Memories of last night flashed into my mind…
“Stop it, Horny Thorny,” Lakota huffed from the back of my mind.
I grinned, keeping his comment to myself.
“Thanks for bringing these blankets up here. Sorry we missed the stars’ performance.”
“That’s okay. We made our own fireworks,” Rhodes teased, flashing a dimpled smile before flicking my nose.
Laughing, I said, “I won’t lie. I was surprised to see you at the ball.”
“I didn’t plan on going, but Laney told me that you would be there. And that it would be a sight that I wouldn’t want to miss,” he smiled.
Note to self: thank Laney for being Laney.
I lifted a finger and traced it slowly along the lines of his dragon mark. The design was nothing short of a masterpiece, snaking its way from his wrist, curling upward around his shoulder like a living piece of art. The tendrils flowed and twisted into mesmerizing, mystical patterns, their edges jagged like crackling flames frozen in time.
Last night was the first time I saw his mark completely. It appeared black in the dim light, but now, with the sunlight shining down, I can see its deep red hue.
Rhodes’s dark lashes fanned over his gray-blue eyes, following the trail of my finger gliding over his skin. Without a word, he leaned down, brushing his full lips softly against my hand before pressing a series of featherlight kisses along my arm.
“What color do you want your eyes to be?”
“What do you mean?” he asked, confused.
I flipped my body so we were facing each other, propping my head on a hand like he was. I cupped his face with my other as his world-shattering eyes met mine.
“While you say my scars prove the fight in me, I canseethe fight in you. Your eyes... are in a never-ending war, Rhodes. They’re proof that while you’re expected to fit one mold, deep down, a part of you is fighting to be something else.
“The sparkle of blue in your eye reminds me of the darkness within myself. No matter how hard I fight to become who I want to be, it is always present. The villain within me is always there as a reminder that I’ll never escape my past. I don’t know what broke you, but I’m starting to believe that to discover who we truly are, we have to be okay with losing pieces of ourselves along the way. A wall that’s been chipped and patched over and over again after every storm will always outlast one that’s never faced a storm at all.”
Rhodes remained as still as a statue as my fingers traced the curve of his lips. “The color of your eyes didn’t give you a choice... but if you could choose, Rhodes, what color would you want them to be?”
His eyes fluttered closed, and he leaned into my touch, pressing a soft kiss to my palm. Then, gently, he took my hand and pulled it to his chest, holding it over the steady rhythm of his heart.
His gray-blue eyes shined. “As long as they see a life with you in it, I don’t care what color my eyes are. You don’t have to run from your pastanymore. Your past was just a series of damaging storms, but now you are a wall that can withstand the strongest weather. I accept your darkness. I accept your past. Scars and all.”
