Bound to Earth

26: The Sh!t I Wore

This was supposed to be a resort. Instead I got, what looked like, a giant barn house in the middle of the mountains. The inside was decent at least, clean and almost cozy.

The staff was nice, a coven of witches constantly checking if we were comfortable. There were a few shifters and even fewer mythical beings—one vampire. I rarely saw them, and heard even less.

It made me almost uncomfortable, though, the level of comfort they were trying to bring us. No one in their right mind would be this willing to go out of their way to ensure our satisfaction. The other customers didn't even seem to be receiving the treatment we were getting. I might've been paranoid, but I'd catch them staring at us occasionally, most likely checking out the four men who accompanied me.

What bothered me the most was the chain link fence surrounding the entire property. As if it'd protect any of us from what lay beyond the wall. Or perhaps it was meant to imprison us. If it weren't for the many gates to let us into the forest, I would believe this to be a prison.

"Why did we have to stay behind?" I sunk deeper into the tiny jacuzzi, my knees tucked into my chest to accommodate Malachi's body. The fucking ghoul was almost as big as the damn dragon. It didn't help that he kept himself plastered to my side.

"You're the one who complained the entire day yesterday, about how cold and tired you were." He pinched my legs. "Why are you wearing leggings and a T-shirt in a hot tub?"

We'd gone scouting the area these past two days, getting a feel for where we were. I was more frustrated with the busy work and ready to fight a damn monster. "I don't complain about the shit you wear, or lack of." I glared at his shirtless body and defined legs in those boxer briefs. "So don't complain about the shit I wear."

He grinned, silver eyes full of humor, and tugged me towards him and my shirt higher. "Don't tell me you're self-conscious about your body."

There was no one around, yet I still swatted his hand away and scrambled to the far side of the hot tub. "Stop. Don't touch me." I wrapped my arms around my waist, scowling at him.

His face softened. "Token, come here."

"No," I spat out, not taking any chances.

"I won't do anything you don't want me to, promise." He held out his hand, willing me to take it. I took his hand and let him pull me into his lap. And he did what he promised, not pushing me too far. "You don't have to be embarrassed about your scars."

"I never said I was embarrassed about my scars." He wouldn't judge, I knew that. But that didn't mean he'd think they were pretty. I didn't even think they were pretty. Not once have I worn shorts or any clothes revealing enough to show my back or midriff or thighs.

"You don't have to say it for me to know." His hand rested on my thigh, over the thin layer of fabric protecting my marred skin. "Can I—" He hesitated, swallowing. "Can I see your scars?"

He was prepared to back off completely if I said no, to wait until I approached him. The only problem was, I'd never willingly approach them to share anything about myself. It wasn't my style.

I pushed away from him and he sighed, crestfallen but understanding. Then I hooked two fingers in the waistline of my legging, double checking no one was around, and tugged them down my legs. My bright red, lace panties were clearly visible in the dimly lit in the jacuzzi.

"Valentino packed those?" His eyes skimmed past my scars, obscured by the water, and bore into my patines.

This next part would be tricky. I hadn't worn a bra. "Yes." I finished peeling the leggings off my body, tossing them on his face. A wet slosh mixed with his grunt as the leggings connected with his skin. "Close your eyes."