T. A. Chase

Angel’s Seduction- Part Eighteen

Angel’s Seduction copyright (c)2006 T.A. Chase

Part Eighteen-

Greyson grins at me as he makes his way up the stairs. “That’s just the beginning of what I want to teach you, Angel. There is much pleasure to be found in loving each other.”

“More pleasure?” I’m not sure what to think about that. “And you’ll show me?”

He pushes open the door to his room and carries me inside. He keeps a firm grip on my shoulders as he lowers my feet to the floor. “If you want me to, I’ll show you everything I know. I’ll teach you to love me.”

I wrap my arms around his waist and press my nose against his throat. In the short time I’ve been with the duke, his scent has come to mean safety to me.

“Why me?” I can’t get my mouth to tell him I already love him.

“Before I answer, we should get ready to go to bed. We’ll be more comfortable there.” He pulls away from and starts to unbutton my waistcoat.

I squeak. His hands falter and he stares at me with disappointment in his eyes.

“Of course, you might not wish to share my bed. I’m sorry. Again I’m forcing you.” He steps away.

“I want to share your bed. I don’t feel truly safe unless you’re with me.” I glanced at my trembling hands. My scars peek out from under my cuffs. “I’m scarred.”

Greyson takes my hands and bares my wrists to the light. “I know. I’ve seen them. They don’t matter to me, Angel. I have marks of my own.”

Shaking my head, I tug my hands free. I wonder if I’m testing the duke. Showing him the outward signs of my depravity to see if he’ll turn from me. The time has come to reveal all of myself to him and shed the last chains from my soul.

I strip off my waistcoat and let it drop to the floor. My hands shake so badly, I struggle to untie my cravat and get my shirt off. I can tell he wants to help me, but I shake my head. This is something I must do for myself.

“Don’t. Not if it hurts you this much,” Greyson protests.

I don’t know I’m crying until a tear drops on to my hand. It almost seems to burn as it slides off. I move to where the light from the candles baths me in a soft glow. Closing my eyes, I turn until I’m facing away from him and my back is bared to him in all its mutilated glory.

I don’t hear anything. It’s as if Greyson has stopped breathing. I hesitate, but then force myself to glance over my shoulder. His face holds no expression. His blue gaze traces each of my scars and it feels as if he’s burning me. Anger flares in his eyes.

“Monster,” he spits out the word and it drives like a dagger into my heart.

What I fear has come true. He thinks I’m a monster. A freak. I should never have stepped beyond my cage. Tears blind me and I try to find my shirt without letting him know how his words have wounded me.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper. I clutch the fine linen shirt to my chest and turn to face him.

“Sorry for what?” He frowns.

What am I sorry for? Living? Breathing? For coming into his world and trying to prove I have the right to be there? So many things I want to apologize for, but all I can say is “I’m sorry for my scars.”

“No, don’t be sorry for those. They aren’t your fault.” He reaches for me.

“You called me a monster.” I tremble, wishing his words didn’t hurt so much.

He takes me in his arms and pulls me to his chest. His hands rest lightly on my back as if he’s afraid to hold me too tight. “No Angel. Love, I was calling your father a monster. You’re not a monster. You’re so innocent and beautiful. Your scars only help to convince me of your strength.”

“Strength? What strength?” I push away from him and pace to the other side of the room. “I look at them and see fear. I see cowardice. I see them as the branding of a freak.”

“Don’t call yourself that. Never insult the man I love like that.”

Greyson’s words shock me. He has called me love a few times and I figured it was just a common endearment he used with everyone. But here he is saying that he loves me. I drop to my knees and bury my face in my hands. Sobs tears through me. He kneels beside me and wraps me in his arms while murmuring words of love to me.

Finally, I’m tired. Tired of crying. Tired of feeling like I need to apologize for who I am. I set back on my heels and stare at him. His blue eyes are concerned, but there’s no disgust in his face for me. There’s only acceptance and love. Finally I have a name for the emotion I’ve seen in his expression and have heard in his voice.

Greyson loves me. Me, the Angel he’s trying to rescue from hell.

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