41. Camille

Chapter 41

Camille

I fidgeted nervously as I waited for Ty to strip. It had been three days since Dante told me he loved me. Ty had returned yesterday but hadn't said a word about where he'd been. He'd kept to himself until this morning when he'd cooked breakfast for me and Kage, then told me he wanted to do our next drawing session.

Anticipation mixed with discomfort as he stood before me, preparing to undress so I could draw him. When he was naked, my initial reaction was a jolt of pure desire that coursed through me. But that quickly gave way to shock as I took in the extent of his scars. I had seen some of them before, but never like this. Never so exposed, so raw. He stood there, a living canvas of pain and survival. Written across his chest and sliding down his torso to his legs, there hardly seemed to be an inch of him that was untouched by them.

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry.

"Are you going to start?"

"Yeah, sorry," I muttered.

I picked up my pencil, trying to focus on the task at hand, but my eyes kept drifting back to his scars. It was impossible not to; they demanded attention, each one evidence of a history I only knew fragments about. Some looked like burn marks, while others were fresher, pinker, and more pronounced against his skin.

As I sketched, the atmosphere between us. The silence was heavy, filled only with the sound of my pencil moving over the paper, capturing the complexity of his body, the strength, and the vulnerability.

My hand trembled as I reached one of the fresher scars, the ones that looked raw, like they had been inflicted only recently. Who had hurt him? I couldn’t imagine someone getting that close to Ty to wound him, which left me with the horrible thought that he’d hurt himself. A lump formed in my throat, my heart aching for him. It was one thing to know of someone's pain in the abstract, totally different to see its physical manifestation so clearly etched on their body.

“Your scars,” I whispered. “Do you hurt yourself?”

Ty shrugged, not quite meeting my gaze.

“Why?”

“I told you, Camille. I like pain. Mine and others."

Putting down my pencil, I moved toward him. He stiffened as I neared, like having me close was triggering something inside him. Hesitantly, giving him time to stop me, I reached out and touched one of the scars, running my finger over its jagged, uneven edges.

The fact that he didn’t pull away meant everything to me. I felt the tension in his body, the way he braced himself, but he still allowed me this moment. Without thinking, I leaned closer to him and pressed my lips against the scar that ran from the side of his hip around his pectoral muscle and over his shoulder.

“Scars can be beautiful,” I whispered. “They can be a sign of strength, of everything you’ve survived.”

“They’re also a sign of everything I’ve lost."

“You’re family…” I said, my voice cracking.

“Yes. My family. And you. Everything is intertwined, Camille. I can’t see you or the scars without thinking of everything I’ve lost.”

A wave of nausea rose in my chest, guilt that his torment was so intertwined with me. Guilt I knew was completely unfounded. It tightened around my heart like a vise. Without thinking, I moved closer to him, my hands reaching out to gently touch more of the scars that marred his skin. Each one felt like a story of pain and survival, and my heart broke a little more for each tale they told.

When I touched one of the fresher scars, Ty jolted slightly, his stomach tensing. I realized I might be hurting him and dropped my hand, moving back and giving him space.

We stared at each other, something dark and tormented in his expression. I forced myself to back away and pick up my pencil again. To my surprise, the ensuing silence that followed felt more comfortable as I focused on capturing Ty’s beauty. Not just his physical form, but the strength and vulnerability that made him who he was.

Later, as I added the final touches to the drawing, I realized how thankful I was that Ty had stormed into art class and bulldozed his way into becoming my art partner. What we’d been doing wasn't just about creating art; it was about seeing Ty, truly seeing him, scars and all, and showing him that he wasn't alone in his pain.

Suddenly, Ty broke the silence. “I went to Italy. That’s where I’ve been these last few days. I had something I needed to do.”

“Can you tell me what happened?” I asked, putting down my pencil.

Ty shook his head. “No questions, remember?”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes—he was the one who’d brought it up. But this was the most he’d opened up to me in a long time. And there was something in his eyes, though—something that told me the trip had affected him deeply.

“Did the trip give you clarity?”

“It gave me something,” he finally admitted, and there was a tone to his voice that told me this was where the conversation ended. I parted my lips to press for more, but he spoke again. “Are you done with that picture yet?”

I wanted to show him the drawing I had completed, a representation of him that I thought captured his essence. Handing it over, I watched his face for any sign of approval. He studied it, his expression unreadable for a moment.

"It's good," he finally said, but there was a 'but' hanging in the air between us.

I knew what the “but” was. I hadn’t captured all his scars. I had drawn him as I had seen him, beyond the darkness written all over his body. I didn’t want to acknowledge all he had been through, the pain he had suffered—and that I might have been the cause for so much of it.

"But you don’t have to censor me," he finished. "You don’t need to hide what I’ve become.” Ty smoothed his palm over the scars on his torso. “Draw me as I am. My pain and darkness. Even if it means you have to acknowledge your pain and darkness, too."

His words sent a shiver down my spine. He was right. There was pain inside me. Darkness, too. One I wanted to forget, the other I didn’t even want to acknowledge. But that darkness—it was there. It was the side of me that, even as I'd been horrified when Kage slit Silas's throat, I'd also taken pleasure in seeing Silas's blood and reveling in Kage's strength and power. Being with Ty, embracing that edge, felt like releasing a part of me I always kept chained up.

"What could I possibly do that would push you away?" I asked, half-daring him to answer.

"Nothing," he replied, with such certainty that it took my breath away. “If you don’t believe me, test me. Test yourself. No shame. No limits.”

Ty was offering me a freedom I'd never allowed myself to explore. The weight of it was both terrifying and exhilarating. The darkness he spoke of wasn't just his to bear; it was a part of me, too, a part I desperately wanted to explore. With him, I felt like I could dive into any abyss and still find my way back. It was a dangerous, intoxicating thought. Ty wasn't just a catalyst for chaos; he was a mirror reflecting back parts of me I'd been too scared to ever acknowledge.