Chapter 23 - The Visible Scars

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I open my eyes to look at the view outside the large window next to the bed. The clock on the nightstand shows that it's after five in the evening. I must have fallen asleep after Sacha brought me in.

This afternoon, Sacha had carried me back inside from the rooftop and brought me straight to my bedroom. Then he had put me across his knees and pinned me down just as he had threatened to do.

"My men saw you! They saw what's mine before I did!" he ground out and I waited for his palm to hit my behind.

Then his jacket slid off me. I felt his muscles stiffened underneath me as soon as the jacket was no longer covering my back and I struggled to get up. I struggled with all my might but he's so strong, holding me down.

I struggled, I screamed, and I cursed, then I waited. I waited and waited but nothing happened.

After an eternity of humiliation, I felt the whispers of his touch on the skin of my back.

"Princess," he murmured. "Who did this to you?" His fingers were tracing the ugly scars on my back with feather-like touches and I felt tears running down my face.

I hate those scars! They've faded into silvery lines across my back and not supposed to be visible from afar by now but they were constant gifts from Astaroth after Deedee's resurrection.

When he gave me the lashings, the pain itself wasn't the real punishment. It was the scars that they left behind and they last far longer than the pain.

Sure, we half-demons heal from injuries and scars faster and better than regular humans. But if given often enough, the old scars would not have the time to fully heal before the new ones were added and it would become a jumble of ugly scars with not enough time to heal. The more lashings I'd gotten, the deeper scars I have. They mar my beauty and make me imperfect. I hate them. As the demon of vanity, Astaroth understands this.

Sacha had laid me on my stomach on the bed after that. Soon, I felt his warm lips on my marred skin.

"You are still stunning, princess. Physically, I've never seen anyone as beautiful as you." He kept whispering words, telling me how beautiful I was. But how could he mean that? He had seen my scar.

As soon as he let go of me, I had pulled the blanket over myself like a cocoon and had laid there with my face facing the windows. I think he had stayed in the room until I fell asleep.

Ugh! How humiliating was that? Now he knows how imperfect and disgustingly ugly I really am. I won't be surprised if he wants nothing to do with me anymore. He'd send me back and Astaroth would give me more lashings. Strangely, it's not the lashing that makes me feel hollow inside...

Reluctantly, I get up from the bed and go to the bathroom to take a shower. Then I get dressed in a pretty dusky pink top and a pair of white pants.

I take a minute to brush my hair and stare at my reflection in the mirror. My back might be ugly, but I do still have a gorgeous front.

I step outside the bedroom and breathe in the smell of tomato sauce, garlic, and herbs. My mouth waters and my stomach rumbles. The last meal I had was breakfast that Molly prepared for me this morning.

Le Festin by Camille is playing hauntingly somewhere in the apartment.

I pad down the hallway, following the sound and the smell and stops in the living area.

Sacha is standing by the stove with his back to me. He's wearing a dark grey t-shirt that shows off his broad shoulders and muscled back and a pair of blue jeans that mold around his perfectly shaped butt and legs.

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