6. Blakely

Iblink my eyes open, smiling to myself when the familiar cedarwood scent of Cassian's bed and sheets fills my lungs. This time, I remember exactly where I am. I'm somewhere safe. It's still a strange concept to me, being safe. So is waking up with a smile.

I roll over onto my back, stretching beneath the warm, soft blankets and stifling a yawn. The bedroom looks like it's glowing orange as streaks of early morning sunlight break through the blinds. Everything has a fuzzy, magical feeling, especially when little dust motes catch the sunlight and sparkle as they float through the air.

My thoughts drift to Cassian, my mind conjuring up his brownish-auburn hair and thick beard I didn"t know I"d like so much. In such a short time, he"s shown me more kindness, and mercy than anyone I"ve ever met. And for some reason I still can"t figure out, Cassian wants to be near me.

Heat rises to my cheeks as I remember him pressing the lightest kiss to the top of my head yesterday. It was so gentle and more than that, it felt like something we"ve always done. Of course, Cassian gives me sweet kisses.

I'm trying not to get my hopes up. I know nothing about men and even less about relationships. The only example of love I had growing up came with a heavy hand of violence and manipulation. I watched my aunt and uncle tear into each other, pushing, pulling, and clawing at each other over any little thing. When my uncle got tired of tossing my aunt around, he turned his attention to me.

I don't want to dwell on those awful thoughts anymore. I escaped from all that, even if I don't have a plan for the rest of my life just yet. A silly part of me hopes Cassian will be part of my future, but again, I don't want to get ahead of myself.

When my bladder finally gets the best of me, I reluctantly peel off the warm blankets and tiptoe across the hall to the bathroom. Cassian gave me another pair of his sweatpants and a t-shirt last night after I rinsed off and he changed my bandages. He handled me with such tenderness I almost cried. The way his fingertips tickled my skin made me shiver and wonder if I could get him to touch me in other ways…

After washing my hands, I head out toward the living room, not sure if Cassian is already awake or not. Something tells me he doesn't get much sleep in general, so I would hate to wake him if he's finally getting some rest.

The breath is stolen from my lungs when I peek around the corner, my eyes immediately latching onto a shirtless Cassian doing situps in the middle of the living room floor. Sunlight kisses the contours of his muscles as I watch him in silence. Cassian exhales and then breathes in fresh air before doing another round of situps in quick succession. My gaze is glued to his torso, watching those muscles tighten and flex.

My body heats up even though I have a shiver running down my spine. Everything feels tingly and extra-sensitive, and I'm suddenly aware of a dull ache between my thighs throbbing in time with my racing heartbeat.

"Blakely," Cassian says, startling me out of my trance. He sounds as surprised to see me as I was to stumble upon him a few moments ago.

"I, um, I"m sorry," I stutter out, suddenly feeling like I"m intruding on a private moment. Of course, he"s forced to do his workouts somewhere else. I kicked him out of his bedroom.

Cassian jumps up from his position on the floor, grabbing a towel and wiping off his glistening skin as he makes his way toward me. "No more apologizing when you've done nothing wrong," he says, coming to a stop right in front of me.

I"m about to apologize for apologizing, but Cassian quirks up an eyebrow and gives me a knowing look. How can he tell what I"m thinking?

Instead of saying I'm sorry, I clear my throat and try to gather my wits about me enough to ask if I can lick the sweat from his chest. No, crap, I mean I'm going to ask him if I can cook breakfast. Yes. That's a much safer and saner activity.

My eye catches on a particularly nasty scar on his shoulder, and then I see another one, even deeper, on the right side of his abdomen. I move forward, my hand reaching out before I even know what I"m doing. I rest my palm over the worst of the scar, wishing I could take away whatever trauma he has attached to it.

Cassian tenses and inhales sharply, making me freeze. I immediately pull my hand away, but he doesn't let me get very far. Cassian loops his fingers around my wrist, drawing my hand back to his torso. He presses my palm over the raised skin, holding me there while our eyes meet.

I can hardly breathe as I stand before the single sexiest, kindest man I've ever met.

"You can touch me if you want to," he murmurs, the moment intimate and somehow sacred.

I don't think he's ever shared this much of himself with anyone before. I'm not sure how I earned his trust, but I promise myself I won't let him down. I'll protect all the pieces of his heart, just like he keeps promising to protect me.

"I got this one about a year ago," Cassian says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Worst day of my life," he adds. My heart breaks for him, for the pain he so clearly keeps locked up inside. "The grenade nearly killed one of my best friends. Sent a dozen more to the hospital, including me, Wilder, and Huxley, the other guys up here on the mountain with me."

"Cassian," I breathe out, my eyes searching his. Deep green irises stare back at me, and once again I recognize the fear and anguish echoing in his soul as something similar to my own.

"Everything changed after that," he continues. "I felt… angry. Cheated. I stopped sleeping. Stopped talking to everyone except Wilder, Huxley, and Elliot. Every day bled into the next until I stopped caring whether I woke up at all, that is, on the rare occasion I slept for more than a few hours at a time without a flashback or a night terror ripping me from my slumber."

"I'm so sorry," I tell him truthfully, peering up into those mesmerizing green eyes of his.

A weak smile curls up one corner of his lips as he shakes his head, snapping himself out of his reverie. "What did I tell you about apologizing for things that aren't your fault?"

"I'm not saying sorry because I feel responsible. I just… I wish you didn't have to experience any of that. I wish the world weren't so cruel and I'm sorry we have wars at all."

Cassian tilts his head to the side, examining me as if seeing me in a whole new light. His eyes roam over my face, taking in all of me before locking on the side of my neck. I know exactly what he's looking at, and while part of me wants to cover up the scar or turn away from him and hide, a bigger part of me wants to give him a little piece of my story. It's only fair. He gave me a piece of his.

Slowly, so slowly, Cassian raises his hand to my face, giving me plenty of time to pull away. I don't want to. When he gently cups the side of my neck, I shiver and take a fortifying breath. The pad of his thumb brushes over the circular burn mark a few inches above my left collarbone, and I close my eyes against the memory of how I got it.

"You don't have to tell me anything," he whispers. "Just know that I think you're beautiful. Scars and all."

I furrow my brow, hardly believing what I'm hearing. He definitely called me beautiful this time. His sweet words are the final straw. I take a few more breaths and gather my thoughts before murmuring, "My uncle always drank, but it was out of control on poker nights." Cassian stops breathing, every muscle in his body tense as he waits for the rest of the scene to unfold. "I tried to make myself scarce whenever his friends were around, but on poker nights, it was my responsibility to make sure everyone always had plenty of beer and snacks."

Cassian nods, silently encouraging me to continue as he rubs soothing circles over my marred flesh with the pad of his thumb.

"Toward the end of poker nights, Uncle Terry liked to use me as entertainment. He'd throw his still-smoldering cigarette butts at me, giving himself a point for every time he hit me."

"Jesus fucking Christ," Cassian growls under his breath. I"ve never had someone upset on my behalf, and I"ll admit, it"s nice having someone on my side. I"ve been alone for so damn long.

"Once Uncle Terry got to ten points, he'd light a cigar to celebrate, then drag me over to where he was and decide where to mark me next. This time was my neck," I whisper, nuzzling into his hand that's still holding me there. "Other times, it was my arms, legs, shoulders… wherever he could reach."

"He used you as a scoreboard for his sick, twisted games," Cassian says, finishing my thought for me. "Blakely, sweetheart," he murmurs. "I'm sorry you grew up that way. Did your parents ever stop him?"

I shake my head no. "I never knew my parents," I confess. "My mom dropped me off on her brother and sister-in-law's porch a week after I was born. That was the last anyone ever heard from her. I'm not sure who my father is or if he knows he has a daughter, but I stopped caring a while ago," I tell him with a shrug.

"I'm sorry, beautiful," he says again.

"What did we say about apologizing for things that aren't our fault?" I tease, hoping to lighten the mood a bit. I didn't mean to drag everything down with my sob story.

Cassian gives me a soft, sad smile, then leans forward and rests his forehead on mine. "I may not have caused your suffering, but knowing you had to go through everything alone tears my heart to shreds. I wish I could have been there for you earlier. No one deserves that kind of treatment, do you understand?"

I nod. "Yes," I breathe out, my eyes darting to his lips and then back up to meet his emerald gaze. There's a mix of longing, empathy, and sorrow in his eyes, along with something else. Something primal and hungry.

God, I feel it, too. I've been aching for him since accidentally walking in on him shirtless. Now that we've been touching and stroking each other for long moments and sharing secrets, that ache has only grown stronger.

"Have you ever been kissed?" Cassian whispers, his breath skating across my lips and making me tremble. I shake my head no, watching in fascination as his pupils dilate and his nostrils flare. "May I have the honor?"

Instead of answering with words, I close the distance between us, pressing my lips to his in my first kiss ever.