I rolled on my left side to face him, unable to steer my eyes away from his scars. I traced my finger over one on his left pec. “What are these from?”
His mouth turned down as his chin touched his chest. “Different things. That one’s from an enemy tribe when we were battling for land many years ago. The arrow nicked me, and I didn’t bother healing it. I’ve got one on my leg from a snakebite when I was a kid, and another on my hip from falling off my first horse after passing out drunk. The one on my knee and shoulder are from the accident. Same goes with the one in my hairline.”
Since his hair was unbound, I reached up and threaded my fingers through it until I found the four-inch scar. I wondered if the reason Tak inked his face had less to do with teaching youngsters a lesson so much as driving women away. Women might sleep with him, but how many would take a mate with such an ominous mark on his face—especially when the symbols identified him as a wolf who had strayed from the pack?
“May I look at yours?” he asked.
I put my hand down.
Tak traced his finger along my temple where the teeth had scraped down until they reached bone. Then he circled over the puncture marks on my lower jaw.
“I wish I could be the warrior people expect me to be,” I said quietly.
He lifted my chin with the crook of his finger. “Why do you see yourself as weak?”
“Others have suffered so much more than I have, and they’re stronger for it. My tragedy was just a wolf attack, and my scars aren’t severe or disabling. Yet I feel disabled.”
“It’s not the scars on your skin that matter. They’re not the ones that do the most damage. You’re not weak. You’re just on a different path than everyone else, so walk that path with your chin up.” He cupped my face, his thumb stroking my cheek. “We’re kindred souls, you and I. We both live under the long shadow of great leaders.”
I nuzzled against him. Maybe Tak wasn’t a notable businessman like his father, but he exuded the tenacity of a fighter and the bravery of a protector. No one else in that bar had shielded me with their body like Tak had. Not once had he left my side—not once! He knew what I needed to feel safe, and that mattered more than dashing into the fray and showing off his prowess. Being around Tak made me feel less crazy and more understood.
He sheltered me with his embrace, his rough hand sliding down my back and putting goose bumps on my arms. I felt so much life when curled up against him. His pounding heart, the breath in his lungs, the warmth of his touch, and the tantalizing scent that lifted off his skin.
“What history do you have with my brother?”
“Do you know about Lakota’s job?”
I scooted back to see his face. “A retired bounty hunter? Yes.”
His brows arched. “Retired, huh?”
“Is that how you know him?”
“One day I’m up at the bar, and Lakota walks in. We sometimes get people passing through, but not many Natives. We bonded, and I considered him a brother. I didn’t know when I invited him onto our land that he was working undercover and using us for information. Then he accused me of murder.”
“Why would he do that?”
Tak traced his finger over my shoulder, but his thoughts were distant. “I stole food from my people to feed families living in abject poverty near our land. Since I’d kept it a secret, I didn’t have an alibi. And just in case you’re wondering, they found the murderer. It wasn’t me.” He flashed a playful smile, which made me laugh.
I pinched his chin. “I thought as much.”
“When my father told me why Lakota was really there, I wanted nothing more to do with him. He left town, and that was that. But the more time that goes by, the more it eats away at me. I don’t like unfinished business.”
“Lakota is a good man. Friend or not, you can’t expect someone working undercover to give up their identity before the case is closed. He took that job seriously, and he didn’t even tell his own family where he was from one week to the next. It’s not because he didn’t trust us. Give him a chance to explain and let him know how it made you feel.”
His brown eyes drifted upward. “He knows.”
I smoothed my palm down his side. As we held each other and bared our souls, we were more naked inside than out.
He cupped my breast, and I arched into his palm. Tak’s callused hands were undeniably strong, and yet his touch was tender. “I don’t deserve such beauty.”
Stripped by his ardent gaze, I found myself vulnerable. Tak wasn’t rushing into anything, and the foreplay between us was body and soul.
“You think I’m beautiful? I’m all right.”
“All right?” He ripped the sheet away with a swift jerk of his arm, the material floating to the floor at the foot of the bed. Tak gripped my backside and then smoothed his hand over my thighs. “You’re what men dream about,” he said against my lips.
His reverence was something I was unaccustomed to hearing, and I scooted closer until our bodies met. Heat penetrated my skin so exquisitely that I moaned. Tak’s blood ran hot—ancient and filled with alpha power. His expressive face could reveal humor or desire in the subtlest shift of his mouth or brow, but there was nothing subtle about the way he looked at me.
