Chapter 17: Scars and Beauty
Ava
I can’t sleep.
It’s currently twelve thirty am, and so far, I think I’ve developed permanent back pain from all the tossing and turning I’ve been doing. I spent the last hour listening to a pretty interesting ASMR playlist, but as usual, the internet lied, and the hour of soft tapping and nail scratching did nothing to cure my insomnia,
After Nikolai and I got home, I’d spent the rest of my day with Kat who spent half the time we were together chastising me for leaving without telling her and the other half asking for details about how I spent my day.
After dinner, I came up to my room and called Cara. She picked up on the second ring and asked if I was okay to
which I replied yes. We spent the next thirty Catching up, and she told me how her car broke down before
she could reach home, but luckily for her, Mark, a boy from our sculpture class, apparently saw her struggling and decided to offer her a lift.
She seemed oddly excited about receiving help from the mysterious stranger, so much so that I had to ask if she’d developed a crush on him so soon, to which she replied, “Are you Crazy? I just met the man”
“Yes, but it wouldn’t be the first time now, would it?” She didn’t respond to that but she did spend the next five minutes describing in extensive detail the shade of brown his eyes were.
She asked if I was coming to school tomorrow to which I replied yes.
During our ride home, Nikolai made it clear that he had no intention of stopping me from leaving the house, so when we got back home, he made arrangements for me to be escorted to and from school every day by one of his guards called Benjamin..
I recognised Benjamin as the eighteen–year–old boy who I’d seen multiple times around the estate and the person who came into Nikolai’s office while his tongue was down my throat.
I turn to my side, letting out a sigh, as I push away the memory of how good Nikolai’s hands had felt against my skin two days ago.
1 swallow and it’s then I notice the abrasive feeling lodged in my throat.
Clearing my throat, I try to get rid of the insistent scratchiness, but when that doesn’t work, I have no choice but to acknowledge and get out of bed.
I needed water before my lack of sleep won out, and I completely lost my mind.
I pad over to the door and quietly slip into the hallway.
The house is dark and strangely quiet except for the sound of my feet slapping softly against the stairs as I make my way downstairs.
As I get closer to the kitchen, I notice a faint yellow glow emanating from within. My body goes still and my heart thuds violently against my chest.
Who could possibly be awake by this time?
I stand there, frozen, trying to steady my racing heart as I determine if a glass of water is absolutely necery right now. The scratchiness in my throat tells me that it is so I peer around the corner into the kitchen. Su ught spills across the walls, stretching the shadows into dark twisted shapes. I trace the path they form until my eyes. land on him.
Nikolai.
Hestands there, casually leaning against the sink, a glass in one hand while the other, runs through his hair.
He’s not wearing a shirt. His tattoos are on full display and realize that it’s the first time I’ve seen him shirtless. I watch, transfixed by the way the muscles in his shoulder flex subtly when he lifts the glass to his lips and takes a sip of water. The liquid catches on his bottom lip before he swallows and the simple motion is oddly mesmerizing Warmth creeps up my face, and I know I should look away, but I don’t. I feel like a grade–A pervert lurking in the shadows as I watch him finish the glass of water, my gaze newer straying from the bobbing motion of his throat.
How the hell does this man make drinking water look so… refreshing?
When he’s through with the glass, he turns around slightly to set it down in the sink, and that’s when I see it.
Long, thick, jagged lines, sliced across his back.
A gasp slips out of my throat and I bring my hands to my lips as I stare at them.
Nikolai turns then, his eyes meeting mine from across the dimly lit kitchen and I feel my chest restrict against my breathing.
L
‘Solnyshko,” the surprise in his voice is evident, his green eyes meeting mine in a hard look.
“Who did this to you?” I ask before I can stop myself.
With the way he’s standing now, the scars are barely visible, but I can still remember the way the lines are carved into his skin, running from the centre of his back and stopping just on top of his collarbone.
Those green eyes of his hold me captive, and a part of me longs to run away from him, but I don’t; instead, I move. I don’t know exactly what it is that compels me to start walking. Maybe it’s the deep sadness I see lurking behind his eyes or my need to satisfy my curiosity but I know I do not stop until I’m standing in front of him.
Without thinking, I lift my hand to touch him, my fingers only inches away from his collarbone, when his hand comes around my wrist, stopping me.
“Solnyshko…” There’s a warning in his tone and I look up at him, my gaze dragging along the tattoos on his neck until I meet his eyes.
My mind goes quiet, and in that moment, I forget the kind of man he is and that he wants to kill my father; all I want to do is comfort him.
“Please,” I say quietly, the softness in my tone catching me off guard, “Can I touch you,” it’s a plea, a request for me to comfort him. One I hope he accepts..
His gaze darkens and his expression becomes unreadable.
My brain tries to remind me why being this close to him is a terrible idea, but I shut down the thoughts because all
want to do right now is touch him, comfort him, and, if possible, take away the pain I know he felt when the scars, Where inflicted on him.
A minute passes, and I’m sure that he isn’t going to let me, and I might’ve just made a fool out of myself. Br** slowly and ever so gently, he places the tip of my index finger against the end of the scar on his collarbone drags it back.
2/5
Chapter 17 Scars and Beauty
He’s letting me touch him.
+25 BONUS
A shiver runs through me as I trace the line, dragging my flagers down his back and his sides until I brush against “the edge of an old bullet wound just below his ribcage. His warmth seeps into my skin and I press down on the healed scar just as he sucks in a sharp gust of air.
“I’m sorry, does it still hurt?”
I ask, worried and slightly panicking that I might’ve hurt him.
He shakes his head, baring his teeth slightly “Nyel,” (No)
I recognised the meaning behind the word and nodded once before continuing my exploration. His eyes follow my movement, watching as my fingers glide from his scars to the bullet wound on his chest and just below his left pec and then stopping at the wilted rose by his side.
This man is beautiful. Every part of him. His scars, his tattoos, everything about him feels like a book that I’ve never read but I’m curious about the story.
His eyes never leave mine as I trace the patterns of the wilted rose on his skin. I focus on the faded petals, curling inwards as if guarding something.
I didn’t just want to focus on his scars; I wanted to focus on his art, too. The beauty of him that I’d longed to trace since we first met.
There’s something strangely intimate about this moment, about the way he just stands there and allows me to touch him, exploring him like my own personal map.
“The person that did this to you, Your scars I mean, did you ever… did you ever…”
I struggle to find the words,
He arches a brow, a slight grin curving at his lips, “Are you asking if I killed the person who caused my scars, Solnyshko?” he asks, eyes narrowed, and I nod
If he is surprised by my question he doesn’t show it and instead, he responds with a
rough, “Yes”
I shouldn’t feel happy at his confession but I do. I am happy that the person who did this to him won’t be able to anymore. I’m glad that he got his revenge.
“And who was it? The person that did this to you I mean.”
my eyes
His reply is almost instant, “My father” My body grows taur at his words and I force to meet his. “Your father?” I repeat his answer back to him and he nods once.
My God, his father did this to him? But why? Why would any parent do this to their own child?
“Why would he do something like this to you? He’s your father he’s supposed to love you”
Nikolai laughs then. The sound is dark and harsh, and it feels almost out of place even for someone like him: There is no love in my world, Solnyshko, just power. And my father whipped me every time I crossed a line to prove that to me.”
He whipped his son to prove how powerful he was? How demented was he to think that was okay?
“How did you kill him?”
Chapter 17. Scars and Beauty
“Stabbed him right in the heart three times,” he taps the left side of his chest three times for emphasis.
+25 BONUS
The way he says it makes it seem like him murdering his faher is the most casual thing on earth and it isn’t. I “know that I should feel repulsed by his actions and how easily he tells me this but I don’t. I’m not. In fact, I’m glad. Glad that Nikolai was able to end the person responsible for his pain.
“He’s dead,” there’s no compassion in my tone when the words leave my lips. Nikolai nods, lifting a hand to brush my hair behind my car,
“He belongs to the devil now.”
He captures my wrist in his hand, his fingers pressing Into the delicate skin with a firmness that causes my heart to stop beating.
“I’m sorry that happened to you,” I say, meaning it. Nikolai might be the devil’s incarnate now but I’m sure he wasn’t always like that. There was probably a time in his life when all he wanted was the love of his father but got nothing but pain in retum.
“Don’t waste your sympathy on someone like me, Solnyshko.”
“You didn’t deserve what happened to you.”
“And yet it did. But don’t worry, I’m no longer angry. I got my revenge for what he revenge again”
A to me and soon I’ll get my
I gasp and he releases my hand. I stumble backwards, my heel catching on the leg of the stool and I almost lose my footing, but just as I’m about to fall he catches me.
His big hands, gripping me on either side of my hips and pulling me flush against him.
The dryness in my throat returns and neither one of us attempts to step away. I can’t help but notice the way the hard mucsles of his body press against mine and my hands rest on his chest, feeling his heart beating against my fingerstips.
Thump, Thump, Thump
His warmth seeps into the thin fabric of my nightgown and shiver against him, my breath coming out in slow shallow bursts of air. His eyes drop to my lips and images from our kiss in his office resurface in my mind.
He drags his hands along my sides, settling them on the flate of my hips and I feel my pulse quicken, when he bunches the fabric of my nightgown around my waist.
Oh God.
I can’t breathe.
What the fuck is air?
He leans in slightly letting out a ragged breathe and tightening his hold on my hips.
“Solnyshko” he rasps against my skin and I swallow hard, the nickname he uses for me sounding more like a ple
than anything else.
“YA ne znayu, chto i dumat‘, kogda delo kasayetsya tebya, moye malen’koye solnyshko” (I don’t know what to think when it comes to you, my little sunshine)
I furrow my brows and just as I’m about to ask him what he means he lets me go.
Chapter 17: Scars and Beauty
Dropping his hand like my body is on fire and stepping around
+25 BONUS
He’s gone before I even realise it and I stand there in the kitchen, my mind realing before I decide to take a glass “from the cupboard and fill it with water.
I don’t sleep much after that and before I realize it, sunlight is streaming in through my windows.
It’s Morning.
