Ethnicity didn’t mean much to Tally. She knew she was half Black. She understood and appreciated her heritage, but just like the colors of the rainbow meant nothing to her, so did the color of one’s skin. There literally was no race in Tally’s mind, just people. Hair color, clothing style, imperfections everyday people thought were important and mattered more than someone’s life or health had no effect on Tally. She saw beyond the standard.
In a way, this made her as naïve as Keys. She’d been discriminated against, both as a Black woman and as a blind woman. She’d had to fight tooth and nail to get to where she was. No culinary school would touch her until she practically forced them to. She understood race as a term, but would never understand why the color of someone’s skin or their sexual orientation or their gender made themless. But unless she was reminded of certain cultural judgements, she literally forgot most of the time.
She was far too busy to deal with that bullshit.
“Poached eggs over a bed of sauteed spinach with hollandaise sauce with a side of baked parmesan tomato and roasted sage potatoes. And the first person whom I hear ask for the fucking ketchup will be forced to clean my fucking kitchen from top to bottom, and believe me when I tell you I can smell a single grain of salt from fifty yards away.”
She couldn’t, but Tally enjoyed fucking with them. They called her Daredevil and thought she had superpowers. Tally planned on keeping up that illusion as long as possible. What was life without a little fun, anyway?
“Holy fuck, this looks good.” That came from Bones on her far right.
Tally beamed at the man. “Eat up,” she told the table at large. She was about to head back into the kitchen when the faint sound of bare feet caught her sensitive ears. Her man carried no scent that was uniquely his, but in the past several months, Tally had started to pick up her own scent on him. Like she’d marked him as her territory. She liked that.
A chorus of “Oh God, my eyes!” and “Fucking hell, Scar, put on some pants!” came a moment later. Tally was already removing her hat and apron in anticipation.
Scar was an enigma. Mute after being tortured for several weeks in the Afghan mountains, his body was littered with more scars than a Dalmatian had spots. Including a very long, jagged one down the left side of his face. And fuck, Tally loved her man.
In a word, Scar was dangerous. A bit unhinged with no boundaries whatsoever, he was not someone many wouldwantto get to know. Often, they took one look at him and went screaming in the opposite direction. Even some of his club brothers were wary of him. Fucking fools.
They didn’t see what Tally saw. They didn’t see the man who would sacrifice everything to protect those he loved. The man who was suffering inside, plagued with the memories and tortures he’d endured at the hands of his captors.
Scarwasdangerous, and that was why she loved him. He was purely, entirely himself. He didn’t give a damn about the insignificant things, the cares and pressures society put on a person. His world was much more black and white. Protect his family—and kill everyone else.
Due to his torture, Scar had a bad case of insomnia. Prior to meeting Tally, he’d only sleep ten or fifteen minutes at a time every day or two. Short bursts when he felt safe enough to close his eyes. With the help of Tally’s presence in his life, as well as the sessions they’d been going to with the club’s psychologist, Dr. Rutenberg, Scar had been slowly starting to sleep more. He still had little to no boundaries, but he’d been getting one to two hours of sleep per night now. Which for him, was monumental. Dr. Rutenberg also encouraged him to stay in bed with Tally, rather than wandering at night. In the hopes he would go back to sleep or could relax, if not rest.
Some mornings, like this morning, Tally awoke to find him still asleep. She’d slip from bed, dress, and head to the kitchen. Knowing her time away from him was limited, because he would find her. He always did, and he rarely bothered to dress to do it. For Scar, why bother putting on clothing when he was only going to take it off again to fuck her.
Tally let her body go loose as strong arms snaked around her waist. She was hoisted up onto his shoulder with her front hanging over his back. Laughing at the groans and protests from his club brothers at his state of undress, Tally waved to them. Someone would clean up the kitchen for her. Most likely the prospects.
“Bye!” she called out. “Don’t forget to tell me your thoughts on that menu item!”
CHAPTER 6
SCAR
Scar didnotlike waking up to an empty bed. But his little minx got a kick of making him chase her down. He didn’t mind. Not really. He’d just much rather spend his time buried inside her than running after her.
Scar hadn’t had much luck in his life. Parents killed by their own stupidity, raised by an aunt and uncle who didn’t want him alongside a sister who hated him, Scar had joined the Army in the hopes of finding his place in the world. For a short time, he had. He’d found his family. Seven men who were the brothers he never had growing up.
And then that cave. That fucking cave that had taken not only his soul and his sanity, but pieces of him that he could never get back. Broken, Scar would never have believed there was a woman alive who could love him—let alone want to.
Tally Meacham. An angel disguised as a kick-ass ninja. She was the light to his dark, the very air he breathed. For a decade after being released from that hellhole, Scar hadn’t been living. He wasn’t even sure he’d been surviving. The few and precious moments that kept him going revolved around Sissy and Scotty, Lucky’s daughter and son. They’d been young, innocent, andfilled a void inside him that had been slowly growing into a chasm.
Then he’d met Tally.
Like the rest of the world, he’d underestimated her. He thought blindness meant weakness. She’d proved him wrong within minutes of him stalking her.
Their relationship was unconventional, but then, so were they. A blind woman and a mute man. What were the odds that they would find each other? Scar didn’t give a damn what the odds were, because hehadfound her and he was never letting her go.
For years, Scar’s inability to speak had been believed to be complete. After being strangled by a noose numerous times, the damage done had seemed permanent. José, Scar’s oldest friend and the only person who knew him before he wasScar, had been saying for years that Scar could speak, he just didn’t. Scar had always thought that statement inaccurate.
I will not talk…
As it turned out, Scarcouldspeak. It hurt like someone had shoved a white-hot branding iron down his throat and then made him chase it with a shot of acid, but he could do it. He’ddoneit. After weeks and weeks of practice, Scar had finally been able to ask Tally to marry him.
She didn’t have a ring on her finger. She didn’t want one, because she’d have to take it off whenever she went to work. Beyond that, neither of them needed a visual representation of their commitment and love for each other.
The fact that Tally was the only person in the world who could touch him, that hewantedto be touched by, meant more than some fucking piece of jewelry.
