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Her eyes widened, and her cheeks darkened further. “Yes. Why are you asking that?”
“I didn’t want to hurt you.”
She laid her head back on the bed and laughed. “I told you I wasn’t inexperienced. I’ve had sex before. I’m not a virgin, Ash.”
I hated hearing about her intimacy with another man, but she was a grown woman. I didn’t expect her to think I hadn’t slept with a woman at twenty-six. Her shyness was deceptive, but I liked knowing I wouldn’t hurt her.
I returned to swirling my tongue around her clit and slid a finger inside her—then another when her back arched with a throaty moan.
I groaned against her when her inner muscles fluttered around my fingers.
“Ash, I’m gonna…”
I hummed against her center, allowing the sound to vibrate against her flesh. “Do it,” I growled. “Let me feel how you’ll squeeze me.”
When I latched onto her clit hard with a tight suction, curling my fingers inside her, she shattered, clawing the bedding. I licked her in slow, gentle motions as she came down from the high of her climax, until her hips stilled.
I tugged off my shirt and cloaked her body with mine.
Her hands mapped my chest and abs, and I closed my eyes, savoring her delicate touch. “What’s this?”
I opened my eyes to see her looking at the mark on my ribcage. “A birthmark.”
A knot formed between her brows. She shook her head without speaking, her mood turning—souring—and I hated that.
“Are you okay?”
She looked up at me. “Of course.” Her hand traveled higher until she toyed with one of my braids hanging over her.
I didn’t want to hurt her. She wasn’t a virgin, but I wasn’t a small man in any sense of the meaning. I wanted her to take the reins, but only within her comfort zone.
I stood, taking her hand and pulling her to her feet. “I want you on top.” I turned to unbutton my pants, pausing when I heard her sharp inhale.
“What happened?”
I buttoned my jeans and turned to her. “What? What’s wrong?”
“Your back.” Seeing my confusion, she specified, “The scars.”
My brows lowered. “You’ve seen it.” I already told her about the scar along my lower back. Few knew the story, but I’d felt compelled to share it with her.
“No, higher than that.”
I stepped into her bathroom, angled the handheld mirror she passed me over my shoulder, and froze at the sight greeting me.
Two jagged scars marked my shoulder blades.
“They look fresh,” she said. “Did you get hurt before you came here?”
No.
In fact, we hadn’t gone to battle for some time prior to the events that brought us here. It had been a long time since I’d sustained an injury capable of scarring.
The most disturbing thing was how the scars marked the exact place my wings formed.
As soon as I told Ezra what happened, he wasted no time calling Zeke and Cyn, leaving on foot without a word to anyone.
The implication behind my scars settled heavy in my stomach, ruining my appetite, so I followed him. I couldn’t sit idle and speculate. I needed to know, and I knew he did too.