Page 47 of Beg for You

“I told him about the tattoos you’re doing for me.” During one of the slower songs we’d got talking. Ted knew about my scars and how self-conscious I was about them. He also saw how proud I was of the work Cal had done so far. “He wants to paint me while the ink is still half finished, showing my transformation. The beauty of your work transforming the ugliness of my scars…of what they represent to me.”

Cal stilled. “And what do they represent to you, Princess?”

“Failure,” I said, not even needing to think about it. “They remind me of how I failed my brother.”

Chapter Twelve

Cal

Cassy was asleep in my bed and I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Her white-blond hair was a soft wave spread across my pillow. One of her arms was flung over her head, the other down at her side. Her lips were slightly parted and her thick lashes, darker than her hair, were fanned against her cheeks.

She looked like a porcelain doll. Precious, expensive, breakable. That last part was what had me up and pacing early this morning. I already knew how this would end. With Cassy getting hurt. Thinking I could come up with a way to shield her from what I wanted to do to Lyall was ignorant. Impossible. I’d been blinded by my own anger.

And I realized last night that, Christ, she already was broken, and it had nothing to do with me.

She’d let her guard down, had given me more than a glimpse of the woman I’d been willing to sacrifice for revenge. Fuck, I felt sick at even the idea of it now.

I stopped pacing and looked at her again.

How did I ever think I could go through with it? I’d been fooling myself. I could never hurt her like that.

No, right now I wanted to wrap her up tight and keep her safe, protect her from anything and everything that might try to cause her harm.

Except I was the thing that had the power to cause her the most damage. I was the biggest threat to her.

Which left me with two options. Tell her who I was…

Or let her go.

Either way, I’d lose her. No doubt about that. I rubbed my hands over my face. I was fucked whatever I did. She was lost to me. I walked to the window and stared out to the street. Jesus, my head was a mess. I was having trouble thinking clearly, which meant my emotions were all over the place.

Fuck.

“Cal?”

Cassy’s voice felt like a caress down my spine, slightly husky from sleep and so fucking sweet. I turned to her. She was up on her elbows, her hair a soft fall down her back. “You’re awake.”

Jesus, if my voice was any deeper, any rougher, I’d sound just like the monster I saw every day when I looked in the mirror.

She sat up, grabbing the sheet that started to slide down and tucked it under her arms to keep herself covered. Her cheeks grew pink when she looked down at herself.

Knowing she was naked under that sheet was damn near killing me. “You remember what happened?”

She smoothed her hair behind her ear. “Some of it.”

“Do you remember…how you got naked?” I asked.

She ignored the way I stumbled over my words, so I chose to as well.

She blinked over at me. “Um…”

Her cheeks were darker. I loved how she blushed so easy.

“You told me how Ted was going to paint you but decided I should instead? You remember that?”

Her eyes went wide, and she sat up straighter. “I what?”

“Yeah.” I pointed to her clothes piled on the floor. “You stripped off right there, arranged yourself on my bed, and passed out.”