“Percen?”
“Aye, Heather.”
“Is a spell responsible for my reaction to you?”
He seemed to stop breathing. “What is your reaction to me?”
To tell the truth or keep quiet? In the end, she admitted, “Lust.”
His eyes widened with astonishment. “Nay. The magic is not responsible.”
“Then it is you and you alone who makes me feel so alive.” And I want to keep him. Not just at night, but during the days, as well. Every day. Every week, every month. How could she give up this warmth, now that she knew it existed?
“I—I do not know what to say, angel.”
Angel. Her all-time favorite endearment. “Say you’ll stay with me.” She cupped his cheek to urge his gaze to her face. “Say you will stay with me always.”
Pain flittered over his expression. “Heather, I am… I cannot…” He punched the mattress. “You will not understand.”
She fought a wave of panic. He was withdrawing from her mentally and emotionally. She needed him in her life; somehow, in only these three nights, he’d become the center of her existence. She wanted them to have a normal life together.
Funny. Her one shot at a normal life was a sorcerer and high priest of the…Druid? Whatever he was, he was her first and only ticket to the storybook life she’d always desired, but had yet achieved.
“At least give me a chance to understand. Please,” she added, desperate.
Before he could respond, a knock sounded at the door.
“Heather?” her mother called.
Before she could react to the interruption, Percen vanished. She had to swallow a protest as desolation struck her.
Heather stared down at the bedsheets where he’d lain, at the indentation and wrinkled cotton. Her stomach lurched, cold chills raking her from head to toe. Tears burned her eyes, blurring her vision.
He was gone. Would he be coming back? He’d been angry with her for a reason she still didn’t understand. She had pushed him too far, perhaps. Or asked too much of him.
Another knock, this one louder and more intense, jolted her into awareness. “Are you okay? All I need is a response, and I’ll leave you alone. Stay quiet, and I’ll take the hinges from your door.”
“I’m tired, okay? Just leave me alone.” Heather liked her mother, but could not forget their past. When Heather had finally gathered the courage to admit what her father had been doing, her mom called her a liar.
A pause. Muffled footsteps as her mother shuffled away.
The tears spilled over, streaming down Heather’s cheeks. A quiet sob tore from her throat. It was the kind of noise a wounded animal would make, deep and gut-wrenching.
“Why do you cry?”
Percen! “You came back.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. First, she detected a blurred silhouette a few feet away. Then, her vision cleared.
He’d adapted the same position as before, when he’d first visited.
“Thank you for coming back!” She jumped from the bed to wrap her arms around his neck, clinging to him. “Don’t ever leave me again,” she sobbed. “Just…don’t ever leave me again.”
How long she held him like that, while she cried in his arms, she didn’t know. She lost track of time. She only knew that being with him had become necessary for her survival. She didn’t care if it was magic or chemistry that linked them together. The feelings were there and genuine, crackling beneath the surface of her skin.
“Look at me, Heather,” he beseeched. His tone was softer than she’d ever heard it. “Look at me. Really see the man I am.”
Slowly, keeping herself firmly pressed against him, she pulled back to gaze up at his face. A gasp congealed in her throat. No longer did Percen have the flawless skin and features she’d come to know. A wealth of scars marred his face. His left eye drooped a little lower than his right, and his nose was bent at an odd angle, the same as his body.
Though this man looked nothing like the other, Heather didn’t doubt his identity. He possessed the same blue eyes with the same glint of vulnerability as her Percen.
For him to feel as if she would abandon him because of his appearance… How many women had abandoned him because of his appearance? How many rejections had he faced? Compassion squeezed at her chest. Heather would take an “ugly” kind man over a “beautiful” cruel man any day, any hour, any minute.
At her continued silence, rage darkened his features. “I tried to warn you, tried to make you understand that you would not want me. Go ahead. Tell me you no longer wish to stay with me.”
He didn’t understand. Her father had been a very handsome man, yet his beauty had hidden the beast within. Besides, beauty faded. The only way to escape the consequences of aging? Or hell, even living. Death.
“I meant what I said. I don’t care about your appearance.” She took his hand and drew him closer, urging him to bend down and rest his head upon her shoulder.
Shock, disbelief and incredulity blasted from him. “You are not frightened by me?”
“You haven’t hurt me. Why would I fear you?”
With a grunt, he burrowed his face in the hollow of her neck. She held him, clinging to him as fervently as he clung to her. His twisted body shook with his effort to control his emotions. Or perhaps the shaking came from her.
What would he think of her when he learned about her past? Her father’s abuse only scratched the surface of her disgraces. In junior high and high school, she’d slept with any and every boy who’d expressed interest in her. Interest from others meant she had value. Value meant she wasn’t tainted by her father’s abuse. But…
Because rumors about her easiness had abounded, a lot of boys had been interested in her. Funny thing, though. That interest had waned as soon as the boys had nutted, making her feel worthless, disgusting and unlovable. So she’d needed another boy to make her feel better. A toxic cycle, all because she’d wanted someone, anyone, to like her.
Bottom line: she’d craved acceptance. Also, she’d felt a constant driving need to control a sexual situation. When girls and boys had started calling her “slut” and “whore,” her already low self-esteem had taken a beating…which led to even more boys. Eventually, she’d run away and shacked up with a guy who’d sold her body to others for money.
I’m not telling you this to be mean, sweetheart, but you’re not smart enough to go to college or hold a real job, and you need to contribute to rent.
When the guy started hitting her on top of everything else, she’d finally wised up and returned home to live with her mother.
Though she felt dirty and disgusting, though her self-esteem remained at an all-time low, she hadn’t slept with anyone for over six months.
“Of the two of us,” she told Percen, “I am the ugly one. If you knew half the things I’ve done…”
Percen raised his head, the gleam of reverence in his eyes nearly felled her. When their gazes met, hunger overtook and overwhelmed her.
He croaked, “You speak as if our actions dictate our level of attractiveness, not our outward appearance.”
“Uh, because our actions do dictate our level of attractiveness. Think about it. You can look at someone, and they’ll be plain at first glance. But the more you get to know them, the hotter they get. Actions determines personality. Personality determines beauty.”