He smooths back my hair. He’s chuckling, but there’s desire in his eyes. “So, you really are the black sheep, aren’t you?”
“And straying further from the flock every day.” My words end in a whisper as I lose myself in his gaze.
“A tattoo would be beautiful on you.” He lowers me onto my back and runs a hand up my leg. “Maybe right here.” His soft lips graze my inner thigh. “Or here.” Cool air hits me as he pushes up my shirt and drags his mouth along the shallow valley beside my hipbone.
“Hmm.” I fight to still my hot shivers.
Cruelly, he smooths my shirt back down and moves to my arm instead. “Or here.” The kiss he leaves on the inside of my elbow is no more than a whisper, but it sends a ripple of heat through my whole body.
Suddenly he jerks back, his eyes locked on my arm and a muscle ticking in his jaw.
What’s wrong?
Hastily, he scoops me up and moves me closer to the bedside lamp. Holding my arm like it’s made of glass, he angles it toward the light. Following his line of sight, I see the pink marks the size of a man’s fingers—ofZander’sfingers—branded on my flesh.
“Oh god.” Mortified, I try to pull away. “It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt.”
Leo is furious, but not at me. “Don’t apologize for him.”
I gulp and in a small voice say, “He’s never done anything like that before.”
“And he’s never going to again.” He takes hold of my face. “I need you to promise me something.” The storm is back in his eyes, dark and swirling.
I open my mouth, but no sound comes out.
“Promise me that no matter what happens in the future—whatever happens with you and me—that you’ll never go back to him.”
“But—but what?—”
“Promise me, Betts. Please.”
I nod, even though my heart is in my throat. “I promise.”
He swipes his thumb across the blotches as he battles his rage. The next time he looks up at me, his features are composed. “I can fix this.”
No.Distraught, I shake my head. No, he doesn’t need to go after Zander. I don’t want any more fights or showdowns. No more drama. Leo is all I want, and I already have him.
“Your arm, Betts,” he says softly. Evenly. “I can fix your arm. So neither of has to see those marks.”
What?
“May I?”
I don’t know what he’s asking, but his gentle concern has me nodding.
Tenderly, he holds my arm in one hand while he brushes the fingers of the other over my blemished skin. The gesture is slow and precise, his focus intent. Warmth blossoms under his fingertips and I stop breathing.
He’s healing me.
He slides his palm down to my elbow, uncovering the injury. But there’s nothing there to see. Only perfect, unmarred skin. I press a hand to the site. No tenderness. No pain.
Leo’s eyes flash up to mine, wide and wary.
I choke on my words, on my own breath. “What...? How?”
“It’s just energy, Betts. The same stuff you can harness.” He’s pleading with me not to be afraid.
And I might be. I don’t, in fact, know how I feel. In awe? Terrified? Grateful?
