Dedication goes to anomynousreaderx for the beautiful cover on the side! <3
"Stop it, Scar. You're not funny. Don't you think you should go to the hospital? I can call a taxi." I said. He hissed angrily and grabbed my wrist when I touched the vodka-infused tissue to his cheek and gave me a venomous glare.
"I'm sorry, I have to! It's gonna get infected." I said. Scar murmured something under his breath, most likely a string of curse words, but released my hand. As gently as I could, I rubbed the tissue over his bruised skin. Then I remembered everything he had done and put me through, so I may have rubbed a little harder than necessary.
"Fuck!"
"Alright, I'm sorry." I smirked. "I won't do it again, I promise."
But of course, revenge is best served on raw bruises. In my defense, he totally deserved it. Just sayin'.
"Genevieve!" he growled. He seemed to have regained his energy. Scar stood up, glowering. "It's not fucking funny. If you're not gonna do it right, then leave me alone! I can do it myself."
"Okay, I swear." It was hard to force back a smile. He looked so cute when he was mad. I held up my hands in surrender, but crossed my legs. "I won't do it again."
Scar eyed me dangerously but sat down. His navy blue sweater had turned a strange shade of color from the blood, but it seemed to have stopped. Scar held one hand pressed against it. The red liquid was drying on his face. I wouldn't be able to clean up all the blood with the tissues.
I tried to successfully appear careless. I wanted to have at least the smallest shred if dignity left; Scar couldn't know how I was feeling or else I was screwed. I was sitting dangerously close in order to reach his skin, so close that I could see how his long eyelashes brushed his cheek every time he averted his eyes. Scar was beautiful in a broken kind of way.
Very carefully, I ran the wet part of the material under his eye. It licked up most of the blood. I threw that one away and got a new one. Scar stayed still for the most part. He was so tranquil, so quiet, that with all the blood, it did look like he was dead. I almost thought he had fallen asleep when he turned his head towards me to say something. I had been running the tissue right over his bruise, and the sudden movement caused it to graze over harshly on the raw skin.
"I didn't mean to do it that time!" I yelped, but it was too late to explain. Scar lunged toward the napkin and ripped it from my hands. The touch of his rough hands made my skin tingle. On instinct, I jumped up to run. I hadn't expected him to have such energy after almost being killed.
Before I could jump out of reach, he grabbed the hem of my skirt and tugged forcefully. I lost my balance and tumbled down on the couch. I couldn't even begin to imagine how stupid I must have looked. The soft leather broke my fall. Scar quickly moved to capture me against the couch, his arms as a barrier. It happened so unexpectedly that I almost choked on my own spit.
I looked up to meet Scar's cold gaze, my heart up in my throat. He pushed me hard with his weight. Somehow in the struggle, my hands were pressing against his toned chest, his own fingers trapping them there. I could feel the warmth of his skin seep through the thin sweater.
He simply stared back.
For several moments, I could only sit there in shock, my mind so occupied about the several millimeters between our faces to even bother wriggling out of his hold.
"Scar- stop! It wasn't my fault that time, I swear. My hands...." I trailed off, blushing deeply. His wounds were drying, blood caked down his face. Even though he looked like a serial killer in that moment, my heart fluttered with the heat of his skin touching mine.
Why wasn't he letting go?
"I'm sorry?" It came out more like a question, shaking and trembling with the tone of which I spoke. It reflected how frightened I felt, and I think Scar knew that as well. But his face remained emotionless, unreadable. Something flickered through his dark eyes and he let out a breath of air that kissed my face.
I close my eyes, trying to rid myself of those burning pupils. His eyes are so dark that it was almost unbearable to see. Every part of my skin that he touched began burning up with the incredible heat. I suddenly couldn't stand touching him, but he didn't move nor made any attempt to.
"Let me go-"
He brushed his fingers gently across my bare leg, leaving a trail of fiery tingles behind. I choked on my words, unable to make sense of what Scar was doing. He broke eye contact, looking down to my collarbone. Scar's eyes were almost black and a twisted sort of frown was cast over his lips.
"P-Please stop." I gasped.
His eye's flitted up to meet mine. With a small smile, Scar leaned towards me. I was still trapped between the warm confines of his arm. He closed his eyes and placed a kiss so delicate on my shoulder that I barely felt it. I almost wanted to believe I was dreaming. The tiny kiss sent of a wonderful sensation in my stomach.
Scar adjusted himself above me, placing a rougher kiss, this time along my neck. I gasped and tried pushing him away, but found that I couldn't. His strength would never compare to mine, even if he was beaten near death. Warning bells rang off in my head, a sense of clearness in the jumble of emotions I was feeling. I realized just then that Scar could do whatever he wanted to me.
He kissed me again, rougher and lips a shock against my skin. He kissed across the soft flesh of my neck, breathing heavily. I was frozen beneath Scar. Fear, happiness, and shock mixed into one overwhelming emotion, trickling down the twisted tunnels of my poor brain.
His fingers were trailing dangerously up my leg. I finally gathered my senses, a bucket of ice water drowning in my stomach. Scar was barely brushing his lips up my chin. He couldn't seem to stop, and that lack of self control scared me far beyond the Sevskaya Bratva ever could.
"Scar, please don't..."
"Stop?" he breathed. "Please don't stop? Okay."
"No! Don't touch me. Scar, let-"
He cut off my pleads with a soft peck on the lips. I stopped, barely breathing. He took that as encouragement. Before I could push him off me completely, Scar grabbed my wrists and pushed them against his chest with one hand. He used the other to crush my chin in his long fingers.
"Can I get a kiss?" he smirked. I realized he was delirious from the pain, but the thought if kissing Scar still caused my heart to leap up to my throat.
"No."
"I'm asking nicely."
"And I said no."
"Please?"
"Scar, get off me or I swear to God I will cut your balls off and put them into a jar."
His face visibly paled at the thought. I used the moment of distraction to shove him off me. I leaped up and ran across the room. Even then, the space between us wasn't good enough. I smoothed my hair down and tried to appear as inconspicuous as possible, but the kiss was still clouding my mind.
"You can clean yourself up." I muttered. "I'm going-"
"You're not going anywhere." Scar cut me off. His voice was surprisingly tight. I watched him stagger up, rubbing his bloody fingers across his wound. As hard as it was to watch him hurt, I knew I couldn't be anywhere near Scar again. There was just too many things that could go wrong.
"Okay! I freaking tried to help you, but you don't seem to want it-"
"No, Genevieve!" he growled. "You weren't even trying to be gentle. It fucking hurts-"
"Oh my God, stop cussing!" I yelped. To prove my point, I slapped my hands over my ears. Scar sighed deeply. "Would it kill you to say one sentence that does not include such vulgar words? Take me back home. Take me home right now."
"Okay." Scar said sarcastically. "It's not like anyone would notice the blood on me. Hey, maybe you should cover yourself in blood too. We can pretend to be dressing up for Halloween. Come give me a hug!"
I shook my head. "This is getting out of control."
"You know what else is getting out? You." Scar muttered. He walked over and pushed me forcefully towards the door.
"Gosh, why are you so moody?" Of course, the question was rhetorical. Scar was nearly killed tonight. It's not like I expected it to go without some sensitive nerves. Scar was impulsive, but so was I. The moment we met, we had been bickering like an old married couple. It got to be exhausting sometimes, and I was spent from the day's events.
"Leave. I don't need you, kitten." he snapped. I stalked towards the door, glaring. He was looking down, tending his wounds. His dark hair fell softly across his forehead, some strands matted down by the blood.
"If you don't need me, then can I go back home?" I asked quietly.
He looked back up, eyes troubled. After a moment of silence, he finally said "I still need you."
"For what?!" I yelped. The mysteries were wearing me out. "For a distraction for the Bratva? What are you gonna do, hand me over like a prostitute and leave? Let them kill me while you leave Chicago? I don't care what Sebastian says, I'm obviously just here for your entertainment, Scar. You don't need me. You'll never need me, so you know what? I'm out."
I pulled the door open to leave, but his infuriating voice stopped me. I waited to hear what Scar would say.
"Genevieve, you're so fucking shallow." Scar spat. "You think that's my plan?" He walked towards me, hands up to show he wouldn't touch me. I gripped the doorknob in my fingers, ready to leave if anything happened.
"You think I would just leave you here? Pull yourself together and stop thinking you're not worth anything. I don't care what Sebastian said. I'm not going to let anyone hurt you. No one is going to lay a finger on you, kitten, but me. I would never leave you in Chicago, or in the hands of the Bratva, or anyone as a matter-of-fact. Why is that so fucking hard to understand, Genevieve? Believe it or not, I still have a heart. Despite all your dumb facts or empty threats or bad temper, I actually care about you."
Surprise was an understatement. We stared at each other for a moment, both too stunned to speak. I was shocked to know that's how he actually felt, and like always, self-doubt began to creep in. Did he regret saying that? It certainly looked it. But then again, who could really tell the emotions in such dead black eyes? Scar had been through so much that turning his feelings off would have been a snap of the fingers.
"I've said enough." his voice was softer, more humane-sounding when he spoke again. "So please, if you don't mind Genevieve, just go. We've both had enough for one night."
I did as I was told and left, but not without seeing how tightly clenched his fists had been when he said all that.