vengeance for Rowan. No one should ever have to endure what she had, on behalf of her sisters, on behalf of himself. How could a man ever thank a woman such as her? Would he have ever been able to endure what Rowan had endured?
When he felt her calm down, knew her breathing had regulated, he squeezed her hand lightly.
“Rowan, I want you to lie on the bed. Get on your stomach and let me look.” He stood, holding out his hands. She grasped his fingers and he pulled her from the hard floor.
He helped her to lay across the bed, leaving her for only a moment as he grabbed a t-shirt from the pile of clothes and tossed it over the camera, managing to cover the lens.
He returned and knelt on the floor. “Untie your robe so I can see your injuries.”
“I can’t ...I’m hideous...”she cried, her face buried in one of the pillows.
“Nonsense. You are beautiful, Rowan. If not, my dragon would have never recognized you as his match. Please, Rowan.”
She moved her hands beneath her and reluctantly loosened the belt. Aidan reached for the neckline and slowly peeled back the robe down her back.
Not sure if he really believed what he was seeing, he walked over and turned the lights on brighter.
He choked back a cry as he looked at her back. From her shoulders to the bottom of her spine were scars. In the cell yesterday the light had been dim, hiding the worst of the marks, but now he was able to see just how much damage she’d received in her lifetime.
Some of the scars were small and pale, others thick and pink. Like the rings on a tree, he was able to determine newer wounds from the oldest. Her skin was mottled and what should have been perfectly smooth bare skin looked more like a road map.
Blood was dried on her flesh. Obviously she had taken another beating earlier. His hands shook as he took the rest of the robe off of her. The scars rode down every inch of skin, from the backs of her thighs, along her calves and all the way to her ankles.
His stomach lurched and bile burned his throat. Not from the way she looked, but from the knowledge of all the pain she’d experienced in her young life.
Careful not to touch her fresh wounds, he placed his strong fingers around one ankle, slowly sliding it up her leg. He touched every scar, big and small. He felt every bump and ridge that was now a part of her.
Rowan flinched as his continued to stroke her broken body. He made an attempt to soothe her, keeping her quiet by humming.
Dragons were able to calm others through touch and voice. He hadn’t done so with anyone except his little sister, and then only when she’d had bad dreams. It was so long ago, he’d thought he’d lost the ability, but now it came back to him as naturally as breathing, and it was working on Rowan. He kept touching her, petting her and lightly kneading tense muscles. He kept the deep tenor of his voice, humming an ancient song meant to quiet a frightened child until she was lulled into a dream-like state.
Standing, he walked to the camera mounted on the wall and yanked the shirt down.
“I am going to kill you.” He said slowly to the silent lens. He knew they were being watched. He wanted Stone to know he was going to come after him, somehow, some way. He would destroy those who’d taken from his family, his friends and now his wife. He tossed the shirt back over the lens.
Striding to the bathroom, he ripped off his shirt and tore it into long strips, which he ran under warm water. Wringing them out, he returned to the bed.
Gently, he washed each and every lash mark along her back, and as he wiped the blood off his mouth watered. He wanted to kiss each and every place he cleaned but fought the urge. This wasn’t the time to satisfy his wants. She deserved to be tended and he was grateful to be the one to do it.
The wounds weren’t bleeding any more, and by the depth of the cuts she’d been whipped enough to hurt, but not enough to cause serious damage. At least not the kind of
When he felt her calm down, knew her breathing had regulated, he squeezed her hand lightly.
“Rowan, I want you to lie on the bed. Get on your stomach and let me look.” He stood, holding out his hands. She grasped his fingers and he pulled her from the hard floor.
He helped her to lay across the bed, leaving her for only a moment as he grabbed a t-shirt from the pile of clothes and tossed it over the camera, managing to cover the lens.
He returned and knelt on the floor. “Untie your robe so I can see your injuries.”
“I can’t ...I’m hideous...”she cried, her face buried in one of the pillows.
“Nonsense. You are beautiful, Rowan. If not, my dragon would have never recognized you as his match. Please, Rowan.”
She moved her hands beneath her and reluctantly loosened the belt. Aidan reached for the neckline and slowly peeled back the robe down her back.
Not sure if he really believed what he was seeing, he walked over and turned the lights on brighter.
He choked back a cry as he looked at her back. From her shoulders to the bottom of her spine were scars. In the cell yesterday the light had been dim, hiding the worst of the marks, but now he was able to see just how much damage she’d received in her lifetime.
Some of the scars were small and pale, others thick and pink. Like the rings on a tree, he was able to determine newer wounds from the oldest. Her skin was mottled and what should have been perfectly smooth bare skin looked more like a road map.
Blood was dried on her flesh. Obviously she had taken another beating earlier. His hands shook as he took the rest of the robe off of her. The scars rode down every inch of skin, from the backs of her thighs, along her calves and all the way to her ankles.
His stomach lurched and bile burned his throat. Not from the way she looked, but from the knowledge of all the pain she’d experienced in her young life.
Careful not to touch her fresh wounds, he placed his strong fingers around one ankle, slowly sliding it up her leg. He touched every scar, big and small. He felt every bump and ridge that was now a part of her.
Rowan flinched as his continued to stroke her broken body. He made an attempt to soothe her, keeping her quiet by humming.
Dragons were able to calm others through touch and voice. He hadn’t done so with anyone except his little sister, and then only when she’d had bad dreams. It was so long ago, he’d thought he’d lost the ability, but now it came back to him as naturally as breathing, and it was working on Rowan. He kept touching her, petting her and lightly kneading tense muscles. He kept the deep tenor of his voice, humming an ancient song meant to quiet a frightened child until she was lulled into a dream-like state.
Standing, he walked to the camera mounted on the wall and yanked the shirt down.
“I am going to kill you.” He said slowly to the silent lens. He knew they were being watched. He wanted Stone to know he was going to come after him, somehow, some way. He would destroy those who’d taken from his family, his friends and now his wife. He tossed the shirt back over the lens.
Striding to the bathroom, he ripped off his shirt and tore it into long strips, which he ran under warm water. Wringing them out, he returned to the bed.
Gently, he washed each and every lash mark along her back, and as he wiped the blood off his mouth watered. He wanted to kiss each and every place he cleaned but fought the urge. This wasn’t the time to satisfy his wants. She deserved to be tended and he was grateful to be the one to do it.
The wounds weren’t bleeding any more, and by the depth of the cuts she’d been whipped enough to hurt, but not enough to cause serious damage. At least not the kind of
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