Page 28 of Savoring Sienna
“A serrated knife. Three separate times.” His voice turned clinical as he deliberately distanced himself from the memories. “They’d wait for it to heal, then cut deeper. The last time, they poured tattoo ink into the wound.” His fingers mapped others across his chest. “They used the same technique here. They wanted the scars visible... permanent.” He traced the trio of lines above his right nipple, then the one bisecting his brow. “For these, they used molten silver mixed with the ink.”
“Jesus.” Horror colored her whisper. He stayed silent as he fought the phantom pain that threatened to overwhelm him.
“And here?” Her palm covered the large X above his left nipple.
“A rapier. One of my torturers thought it would be appropriate to mark me with the letter of his name.”
“Fucking bastard.” The venom in her voice matched the rage he had long buried. Her attention shifted to the webbed pattern across his lower abdomen. “This looks different…”
He lifted his left arm, revealing matching marks on his forearm. “Barbed wire. They wrapped?—”
“No!” Her finger pressed against his lips as tears streamed freely now. “I thought I knew suffering, but this…” Her voice broke. “How did you survive, Crone?”
“By the Grace of God, little one.” He wiped her tears away with tender fingers. “No more crying. Not for wounds that no longer hurt.”
“Maybe so… but I also know that some wounds never heal.” Her hands drifted to her own scar and her eyes were haunted with unspoken horrors. She wanted to share, he could see it, but terror still gripped those memories tight, and she struggled to fully open the doors of the past.
He pulled her back into his arms. “This isn’t a show and tell of scars, love. When you’re ready to share your story, I’ll listen. Not before.”
“I…” She exhaled slowly. “I don’t want you thinking I don’t trust you because I do. I’ve just never told anyone the entire sordid story. Not even Master Derek or Doc Williams.”
“That’s enough darkness for tonight.” He tilted her face up, determined to replace shadows with light. “Come here, kitten. I want to hear you purring for me again.”
Her smile, though tremulous, reached her eyes. Crone knew all too well that some scars weren’t meant to be erased. They were bridges connecting wounded souls, offering understanding where words failed. Tonight, they had shared more than their bodies. They had shared their battle wounds, and in doing so, finally opened the door for healing to begin.
Crone spent the rest of the night chasing shadows from her mind, replacing each dark memory with pleasure until she melted beneath his touch. With every gasp and whispered plea of surrender to him, the walls around his heart crumbled further. For the first time in five years, he allowed himself to simply feel and to exist in the pure joy of holding someone who saw his scars as badges of survival rather than marks of cruelty.
The love growing within him wasn’t a weakness to fight, but a strength to embrace. In her arms, he found more than passion.
Crone Lange just gave himself permission to live again.
Chapter Eleven
Two weeks later, Derek’s Office, Rawhide Ranch
Sienna
“You look different.” Master Derek observed as Sienna settled in the seat opposite him. He leaned back, studying her with caring attention rather than invasive scrutiny. “I’ll go as far as to say your eyes are brighter, with a touch less shadows than usual.”
Heat bloomed across Sienna’s cheeks under his observation. The past two weeks had opened up an entirely new dimension to her life… and it all circled around one man… Crone Lange. No, not a man—he was a sorcerer in worn jeans with a love for that black cowboy hat he now wore everywhere he went. Since their night together, he made a concerted effort to weave himself into the fabric of her days by popping into her classroom and whisking her away for lunch or dinner. He filled every day with laughter and with an almost forgotten factor—hope.
She found herself watching the door with anticipation and her heart lifted every time at the sight of his grinning face peeking around the frame. It wasn’t just her. Her students, whoshamelessly drooled every time he stepped inside, awaited his visits with equal anticipation.
“I’m doing much better, Master Derek. Intervening with Master Quincy and my scene was the right decision.” Her cheeks darkened a shade deeper. “Master Crone’s whip must have magical properties.” She smiled shyly. “Perhaps you should consider registering him as a therapeutic psychologist since it’s not just his whip, even a hand spanking loosens chains that refused to move for years.”
Derek’s eyes crinkled. “I’m very happy to hear that, and even more so knowing I made the right decision to approach Master Crone with a job offer. So many people arrive here with demons that need unconventional approaches.”
“Like me.” She curled her fingers into fists. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a burden, Master Derek.”
“I never want to hear you say that again, Sienna,” Derek reprimanded her firmly. “You were not and never will be a burden. That is why Rawhide Ranch exists. To offer a sanctuary to those, especially within our lifestyle community, who need a safe haven. I am just happy you found us when you did.”
“Me too.” Taking a steadying breath, she ventured, “I need to ask a favor, Master Derek.”
“I’m listening.” Derek watched her with an open and attentive expression.
“The photography curriculum for this semester is fashion photography. Part of the students’ assessment is to plan and prepare an entire shoot.” She shifted in her seat. “They requested a trip to Missoula to buy proper ‘fashion ensembles’—their words—for the shoot. I know it’s not the norm to leave the Ranch, but I can reach out to two of the boutiques in the town and arrange for specific times. It won’t be an all-day trip with them running all over town but controlled and overseen by whoever you allocate to take them.”
“Does that mean you won’t be joining them?”
