mirror. Dried blood smeared across her chin, nose and cheek. She grasped a handkerchief and started to wipe her face clean. A red flash in the mirror caught her eye, and she stopped. About her wrists, exactly where she had burned herself, red scales shimmered like thick ruby bangles. She touched the soft, glittering scales.
Visions of her joining with Madoc in the middle of night flooded her mind. He had these same scales on his chest. The red crescent on his cheek—not an ink mark, but a small scale.
She trembled and refocused on the mirror to inspect her body. The scar on her breast now shimmered a paler shade of red too. A tingling washed through her back, and she twirled about. At the base of her spine, right where he had touched her after spending in her last night, a perfect red circle the size of his hand shimmered.
The flesh between her thighs moistened. He’d marked her in more than one way. The bite on her neck. The burn marks on her arms, and his hand on her back. But she had hated him. Hadn’t she? She wet the cloth and continued to clean her face. The dark red splash on her nose would not move.
She wet her lips with her tongue. The mar on her nose from when she had tripped, stumbled, hit her nose on the hitching post, now had a line of three red scales that created a stripe down the bridge. Beautiful and humiliating. She trailed her fingertip down her nose. Her throat tightened; she could not hide that line of scales. A mask maybe? No, she would not hide her newfound strength. Madoc never made excuses for the crescent on his cheek. She would learn to wear them proudly.
So much of what she thought true about her life were lies. Jonathan, Catherine, her pa.
No, not her pa.
What did her father know of this world?
He had to know something. Even with his crippled hands, he was no fool. He needed to know about Catherine and Jonathan. He might feel he had no other choice but to let them do as necessary for their survival. Her throat tightened, and she sucked in a painful breath. A horrible choice to make. She needed to go to him. To tell him of Jonathan and Catherine. To tell him what she knew of this other kind of time and see what he knew. She bit her lip and glanced around the expensive room.
They now had a choice. She could help him. Madoc was powerful, wealthy; he could help her father.
Madoc cleared his throat from the doorway.
She whirled, pulled her curly hair to cover her breasts, and stood tall.
He took three strides to her side. “You are stunning. Are you hungry?”
She stared up at him. The red crescent on his cheek glimmered brightly against his warm skin. “Starving.” She held up her hands. “Look.”
He stared at her wrists. “You are Zir.”
“There are more on my back.” She rotated and showed him the circle. “In the exact spot where you touched me first after…” Heat washed her face.
“Is it?” Pride tinged his voice.
Her attention snapped to his face, and their eyes fixed on each other’s. A huge smile curved his lips, and a bright happiness flickered in his amber eyes. “I suppose everyone will now know you are mine.” He traced the line of scales on her nose. His words, expression and heat wove a tangible blanket about her that she wanted to snuggle into and never leave.
“I am no one’s.” But deep in her soul, her heart dripped joyous tears. Happiness. How was that possible? Only yesterday she’d been filled with hatred for this man.
“Ah. We shall see on that point. Maybe we are each other’s?” He trailed a finger along her cheek and gathered a tear she had not realized still lingered. He held the finger before her, the tear shimmering on the rough skin. He raised his eyebrows with a questioning expression and blew the moisture and all the tension between them into the wind.
He turned and walked to the dressing screen. His sleek long hair, pulled back into a queue, hung down his brown leather vest to his bottom. “The second of the dresses arrived
Visions of her joining with Madoc in the middle of night flooded her mind. He had these same scales on his chest. The red crescent on his cheek—not an ink mark, but a small scale.
She trembled and refocused on the mirror to inspect her body. The scar on her breast now shimmered a paler shade of red too. A tingling washed through her back, and she twirled about. At the base of her spine, right where he had touched her after spending in her last night, a perfect red circle the size of his hand shimmered.
The flesh between her thighs moistened. He’d marked her in more than one way. The bite on her neck. The burn marks on her arms, and his hand on her back. But she had hated him. Hadn’t she? She wet the cloth and continued to clean her face. The dark red splash on her nose would not move.
She wet her lips with her tongue. The mar on her nose from when she had tripped, stumbled, hit her nose on the hitching post, now had a line of three red scales that created a stripe down the bridge. Beautiful and humiliating. She trailed her fingertip down her nose. Her throat tightened; she could not hide that line of scales. A mask maybe? No, she would not hide her newfound strength. Madoc never made excuses for the crescent on his cheek. She would learn to wear them proudly.
So much of what she thought true about her life were lies. Jonathan, Catherine, her pa.
No, not her pa.
What did her father know of this world?
He had to know something. Even with his crippled hands, he was no fool. He needed to know about Catherine and Jonathan. He might feel he had no other choice but to let them do as necessary for their survival. Her throat tightened, and she sucked in a painful breath. A horrible choice to make. She needed to go to him. To tell him of Jonathan and Catherine. To tell him what she knew of this other kind of time and see what he knew. She bit her lip and glanced around the expensive room.
They now had a choice. She could help him. Madoc was powerful, wealthy; he could help her father.
Madoc cleared his throat from the doorway.
She whirled, pulled her curly hair to cover her breasts, and stood tall.
He took three strides to her side. “You are stunning. Are you hungry?”
She stared up at him. The red crescent on his cheek glimmered brightly against his warm skin. “Starving.” She held up her hands. “Look.”
He stared at her wrists. “You are Zir.”
“There are more on my back.” She rotated and showed him the circle. “In the exact spot where you touched me first after…” Heat washed her face.
“Is it?” Pride tinged his voice.
Her attention snapped to his face, and their eyes fixed on each other’s. A huge smile curved his lips, and a bright happiness flickered in his amber eyes. “I suppose everyone will now know you are mine.” He traced the line of scales on her nose. His words, expression and heat wove a tangible blanket about her that she wanted to snuggle into and never leave.
“I am no one’s.” But deep in her soul, her heart dripped joyous tears. Happiness. How was that possible? Only yesterday she’d been filled with hatred for this man.
“Ah. We shall see on that point. Maybe we are each other’s?” He trailed a finger along her cheek and gathered a tear she had not realized still lingered. He held the finger before her, the tear shimmering on the rough skin. He raised his eyebrows with a questioning expression and blew the moisture and all the tension between them into the wind.
He turned and walked to the dressing screen. His sleek long hair, pulled back into a queue, hung down his brown leather vest to his bottom. “The second of the dresses arrived
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