Rorik nodded as he sat on the edge of the bed. “Yes. We have no individual space back—” His brow scrunched. “Back at the tundra clan.”
My heart tightened for a few different reasons. I was happy to hear himnotrefer to the tundra as ‘home’, but at the same time, I felt sad for all he’d been through. I also felt guilty because I didn’t know any of it. I was totally ignorant.
“Rorik,” I said softly. “I’m sorry.”
His brows rose as he turned towards me. “For what?”
“I don’t know anything about your past.” I reached for his large hands and held them in mine. I brushed my thumbs over the ridges of his hairy knuckles. “I fell for you without really knowing you. I know that happens with fated mates, but Ishouldknow.”
The corner of Rorik’s lip curled wryly. “Maybe it’s best you don’t know.” He hesitated like he wanted to say something else, so I didn’t interrupt. Then he sighed. “It’s nice that you fell for me without knowing anything. It feels… clean. Like a fresh start.”
“Nothing you say will change my feelings for you,” I promised. “I just want to knoweverythingabout you. I’m nosy. Did you know I read every single word on the back of DVDs? Every single word in actor and director interviews? It’s a problem.”
Rorik chuckled. He’d been laughing more lately, and it melted my heart. I was glad to see him open up.
“I’m not that interesting,” Rorik asserted.
I scoffed. “Are you kidding me? You’re a fucking assassin polar bear.”
He tried to stifle a grin. “I’m a failed assassin, remember?”
“And good thing, too.”
I flopped against the bed and pulled Rorik’s arm so he tumbled down with me. As we lay together, I smiled at him. But the longer I stared, the more scars I saw. My smile fell into a frown. I sat up on my elbow and examined him, suddenly conscious of all the old white marks against his skin. They were everywhere. Single indents, the rake of claws, studded rows of bite marks…
“What did they do to you?” I asked quietly.
Rorik grimaced. “It’s not—”
“If you say it’s not a big deal, I’m going to dump the uneaten popcorn on your head.”
With a hint of amusement, Rorik sighed. “I’m only saying it’s in the past. There’s nothing to be done now. Besides, we bears are proud of our scars.”
I wrinkled my nose, but didn’t argue. Rorik seemed genuinely accepting of his scars, so I believed him.
“Fine. Just tell me who put them there,” I said.
He shrugged. “What difference does it make?”
“I’m an alpha dragon possessive over my mate. That’s the difference it makes.”
Rorik grinned. “That makes no sense.”
I rolled against his chest, hooking my arm beneath his neck as I snuggled him. “Yeah, well, sometimes love makes no sense.”
We cuddled in silence for a few moments.
Then quietly, Rorik said, “The scars are all from discipline. Inadequate battle simulations, failed training drills. The oldest ones are for disobedience. All from the clan alphas.”
The hairs on the back of my neck bristled, threatening to shift into dragon spines. I tempered my rage before a full transformation consumed me.
“I see,” I said stiffly.
Holy Drake, how I wish I’d been there to stop them…
I ran my hand down his thick arm, brushing my fingers against the pale divots and long-healed scrapes. Each scar was a reminder of the hardships he’d suffered—and a reminder of how much courage it took to break free of the past.
“You mentioned a barrack,” I murmured.
