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There was a pause as Knox finished rolling up his sleeves. Rogue was tense, eyes fixed on the floor, jaw ticking.
“Well?”
He drew his lips back in a snarl, then slowly tugged his shirt off.
My eyes went wide as I saw what Knox meant.
There were large, torso-wide scars, thin and horrifying, across his chest. Three or four at least that I could see.
I’d never seen anything like it.
A whip, or a knife…
I stepped back, shrinking onto the bed, grabbing at a pillow and hugging it close with Bunny as if that might stop this.
The first tear tumbled down my cheek.
This was my fault.
Knox leaned down and picked up the brass knuckles, then glanced back at me, pausing only for a second as he took me in, curled up with Bunny.
I couldn’t close my eyes like Rogue had told me.
My fault…
Knox looked manic. “Don’t worry, Doll, he won’t hold it against me or you. It’s just business, Rogue, isn’t that right?” he asked, and he spat on the floor at Rogue’s feet.
Rogue met my eyes for a brief flash, then shut his. Rolling his shoulders and bracing, and the snarl on his lips held the traces of bitterness.
Knox grinned, dropping his voice to something vicious as he spread his arms for me. “I mean, what else do you suggest I do with a pet that won’t do what he’sfuckingtold?”
I jumped violently, fingers deathly tight on Bunny as Knox went from swaggering mad man, to violent Alpha in a split second, and the CRACK! of the first punch split the air.
TWENTY-FOUR
THISTLE
Tonight, everything changed for me.
At some point, Knox had shrugged off his button up and I’d seen something that made me falter. A sheen of sweat glistened in the low light, scattered across ridges of tanned, golden muscles.
But that wasn’t all.
Like a reflection of Rogue, there were scars across his back. Cruel lines, and cuts like from a whip or a knife.
I stared between them for a long time, shifting closer on the bed, needing a closer look.
They were mirrors of one another, and that drew my interest.
The fury I’d seen before in Knox? I hadn’t liked it at the time, but now I knew what it was.
The truth of it laid itself bare, from each blow to his scent, which had risen in the room like a tide.
Ink and antique wood.
More beautiful than I think it had ever been. Now it was tangled with his madness.
He was like me—with all the same instincts I was hated for.
