Reaching down, I pull the leggings off, trying to figure out how I managed to sleep in them last night. It wasn’t exactly comfy, and they were rather tight. Hands suddenly replace mine, tugging them down, and I pull my legs out before Andrei turns me around and helps me tug the leggings off my feet.
I yawn. My eyes feel like sandpaper from barely sleeping, and my eyes are puffy from crying. Andrei’s hand moves up my thighs and I can feel the question he wants to ask before he says it.
“Can I ask what happened to your thighs? Like what they actually did for them to be scarred this way?” He asks, and I pull away from him.
He never mentions my scars, but hearing his words makes me step away from him, embarrassed. I told him already, but he never asked how they did it, and that wasn’t something I wanted to relive.
When I step away, he grips my hips, tugging me back to him. “Don’t do that. Don’t try to hide from me.” Andrei murmurs.
“Andrei?” I whisper his name in an unsure question.
My cheeks flame with heat, and I suck in a breath. He is scrutinizing me and I hate that. I rarely look down at my mutilated body. But his intense gaze makes me squirm uncomfortably and want to cover up to stop him from seeing it. Shame overwhelms me and I know it looks gross, but I didn’t expect him to point it out. Reaching for a towel, I try to wrap the towel around myself.
“What are you doing?” He asks, gripping the towel and yanking it.
“Stop, Andrei, please. I know it’s gross, but stop touching them,” I tell him, slapping his hands off my legs while fighting back the tears.
“What are you talking about?” He snaps at me, gripping my hips and tugging me back in front of him.
“There is nothing gross about you, Sage. You are beautiful,” he says, running his hands over the mutilated flesh, leaning closer. I try to step out of his clutches but he doesn’t allow that, holding me in place as he leans forward pressing his lips to my thigh and looking up at me.
His grip tightens on me. “Look,” he urges, and I shake my head.
“No, Sage, look. They look like,” he shakes his head. “It looks like tiny handprints. They are on both sides,” he murmurs, brushing his thumbs over my skin.
His words confuse me. “What?” I ask, looking down and sucking in a breath, and forcing myself to look at my destroyed skin.
“Here,” He points to my thighs, pressing a finger to each one. I sigh, angling my head to the side and looking down at where he is pointing. My skin is burned, and the skin ripples scarred when I see what he is talking about.
However, the two spots are no longer scarred and mutilated. Shocked, I bend down more and accidentally headbutt Andrei. “Ow,” I hiss, and he chuckles, rubbing the spot on my head that I smacked.
He stands, gripping my hips and placing me on the sink basin, and I look at my thighs. Bile rises in my throat, but I finally get a good look at what he is talking about. From my angle, it looks like two small handprints on my upper thighs.
“That is so strange, I swear I never noticed that before,” he whispers, his brows furrowing.
“Yeah, that wasn’t there before. It was as mutilated as the rest of me,” I tell him, rubbing the smooth spot to make sure it isn’t something coating my skin, making it appear like fresh skin there. Andrei growls. The sound is menacing and sends a cold shiver up my spine.
“Don’t speak like that about yourself. I won’t put up with it,” he snarls, and I roll my eyes. It’s not like it isn’t true. Anyone seeing them would turn away at sight, and they do.
Andrei grips my face and growls. “Don’t. Is this because of what Clive said? Don’t, for one second, think I will tolerate you thinking like that. If I catch you speaking like that again, I will drag you out there and strip you in front of the entire pack to prove there is nothing wrong with any part of you. There is not one man here who would cringe away from the sight of you,” he snarls, his lip pulling over his upper lip as his canines protrude.
I am horrified at his words and the thought of being stripped naked in front of his pack. I try to say something, but his grip on my face tightens. “Don’t test me, Sage. I mean it, not one word. You are mine, and I love every inch of you. Don’t speak like that just because you don’t see yourself the way we all do.” Andrei sighs and curses under his breath, but his grip on my face loosens. “Now we need to figure out how you have tiny handprints on you,” he mutters, leaning in and kissing my lips before glancing down and letting go of my face.
“Maybe you’re reacting to something? I can call Mathias to come to check you over, but they look like – ” He pauses, counting the little lines that resemble tiny fingers.
“Too small to be handprints unless they are baby handprints.” We both pause, and I touch the unblemished skin. It feels soft under my fingertips, and the skin around the marks is rougher and raised slightly, thick with scar tissue. It takes me a moment to think of where I have been before recognition smacks me in the face just as Andrei reaches the same conclusion.
“You were holding Eziah yesterday,” he points out, looking down at my legs.
“Yes, he was sitting in my lap, slapping my legs,” I tell him.
Andrei nods his head and purses his lips when they suddenly part on a gasp. “I think he healed a piece of you.”