Page 8 of Unmasked Prophecy
But I owe Mera my life.
I turn slowly, facing her with bloodshot eyes and a broken-down expression. She’s standing by a bike, leaning against it wearing a pair of jeans and a tank, her long red hair flowing around her shoulders. I really do owe Mera so much.
The moment she notices my face she pushes up off the bike.
“Hey,” she says gently, walking over. “You alright?”
I shake my head.
“You wanna talk?”
I press my lips together. Then I nod.
She offers me another smile and then we go into my room where she sits on the end of my bed as I get dressed. Then, I lower myself to the floor and sit cross-legged, running a brush through my hair as I look up at her. I already know that she has guessed what happened. I know she saw my back.
“He saw,” I croak, angrily ripping the brush out when it hits a tangle.
“Talon?”
I nod.
“How?”
I hesitate. Then, quietly, “He walked in while I was showering, by accident.”
“I’m guessing that didn’t go down well?”
I snort. “No, it didn’t. He demanded to know who did it and I just freaked out and ran. I can’t believe he saw that. I know what he’ll think now.
“You don’t owe anyone the story,” she says, “but you should know—he’s not the kind of guy who’ll judge you for whatever it is that caused those marks.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I say, softly. “It’s the ugliness it adds to me.”
Her eyes widen. “There isn’t a single part of you that’s ugly, Nia. Whoever made you believe that, they were wrong.”
I swallow the lump in my throat.
“Talon would never look at those scars and think you were anything but perfect.”
If only that were the truth.
“He’s going to seek justice for me, I know it,” I exhale, dropping the brush in my lap.
“And you don’t want him to?”
I look up at her, shaking my head. “It’s not that. I’m just afraid of what might happen. To the club. To the people I love.”
“Well, take it from me, the club has a way of getting things done. I was hesitant to ask for their help, too, but in the end Wolfe is the reason I’m here today, and the reason you are, too.”
I do owe them so much.
“I hate that he feels sorry for me, that he looks at me like something that needs to be fixed.”
Mera chuckles. “He doesn’t. That man doesn’t do pity. What he does do is protection. Loyalty. Fury. And from the way he looks at you, honey, I think you should brace yourself.”
“Do I dare ask what I should be bracing myself for?”
She just grins.
