Defaced: A Dark Romance Novel by Marissa Farrar

fingers wrapped around both of her upper arms, and she became aware of her nose and mouth close to a solid part of his body—his chest, she assumed. The human contact made her want to cry, and tears filled her eyes. How fucked up was she now that she wanted to press her face against his solid body, to inhale his scent and absorb his warmth? She’d always avoided contact by another human being, had felt uncomfortable and awkward if someone tried to hug her or even shake her hand, but now her body craved the contact. All she wanted was for someone to hold her and tell her everything was going to be all right.
    She had lost her mind.
    Monster held her away from him, and she wilted at the lack of contact. He held her at arm’s length, but guided her so she walked backward. The backs of her legs hit the chair and she bent at the knees, her backside making contact with the seat.
    She sank down into it. The blindfold was damp with her tears. There was no point in begging or making smart remarks. He would do whatever he wanted. Nothing she could do or say would make any difference.
    “Yes,” he said, eventually. “I think you are ready.”
    Her heart picked up its pace, her breath growing shallow. Would he allow her to see him now?
    He moved behind her and his fingers made contact with the knot at the back of her head. He undid it enough to loosen the blindfold, and then he moved back around. She sensed him standing in front of her.
    Nervous in case she did something wrong, she froze. The blindfold had grown loose, light peeping in around the edges.
    “It’s okay, Flower,” he said. “You can shake it off.”
    Taking him at his word, she shook her head, and the blindfold fell from her eyes.
    She sucked in a gasp of air.
    Her mind was in a jumble, trying to take in the two opposing things she saw.
    Monster stood before her, regarding her with solemn, chocolate brown eyes.
    His beauty struck her like a blow. He had a smooth, square jaw, a straight, sculpted nose, and wavy dark hair cut short and swept back from his face with some kind of product. His high cheekbones and full lips gave him the appearance of a model, a beauty that was almost unworldly. He was smartly dressed in a grey suit with a white shirt beneath, and black dress shoes which shone beneath the artificial light of her room.
    But her eyes took in the part of him she couldn’t ignore. Running down the center of his forehead, down the left hand side of his nose, to skirt the corner of his sculpted mouth, was the darkest port wine birthmark she’d ever seen. Where most of those kinds of birthmarks were red or purple, his appeared to be almost black.
    Years of training herself to not react to the birthmarks of her patients allowed her to hide her initial shock and dismay.
    I feel sorry for him, she realized in astonishment.
    How could she feel sorry for someone who had kidnapped and assaulted her? She should be happy he was disfigured. But she couldn’t help her emotions. If not for the birthmark, he’d have been in Hollywood, ruling the world with his beauty. Instead, he was hidden away here like a freak.
    “Do you see the truth, Flower? This is why you’ve been brought here.”
    His eyes were locked on hers, and she trembled in his gaze. She was terrified she’d say or do something wrong, that she’d destroy whatever progress she’d made in the last ten minutes.
    “You … you want me to …”
    He lifted his hand to the side of his face with the birthmark, and laughed. “I want you to work on the thing that makes me a monster.”
    “A birthmark can’t make you a monster. It’s your soul that does that.” The words were out before she’d even registered them, and she clamped her mouth shut, horrified that she’d spoken and risked being shut back in this room with no one to speak to and nothing to do.
    “Oh, I know that. I should have said the thing that makes me a monster to the outside world. I know what I am inside, but what is on the inside is