Under Your Scars (Under Your Scars, #1)

by Ariel N. Anderson

“I don’t want to kill you, angel. I want to keep you all to myself. You’d better take off those rose-colored glasses and accept that the only place you belong is in my black heart.”

The unfiltered rage in his eyes scares me to death. “Who did this to you?” he asks quietly, though his tone couldn’t be any more venomous. When I don’t answer, he sends his fist flying into the wall next to us so hard that I’m confident I heard his knuckles break. I get the faintest glimpse of blood smeared over his fingers when his hand goes back to my cheek. “If you don’t tell me the truth right now, I will find out myself by burning this fucking city to the ground.”

“They need to know what happens when they touch what’s mine, Elena. They’re going to convert religions, because they won’t be praying to God, they’ll be praying to me. Begging for my fucking mercy after I hunt them all down and show them the true meaning of fear.”

“If you’re so concerned about my humanity, Elena, then reach into my soul and find it, because I’m not sure I have any left.”

When I saw those fucking marks around her neck, my body was no longer running on blood and oxygen, but fury and vengeance. If she hadn’t begged me to stay with her until she fell asleep, I would have torn apart every person in this club, limb from limb, until I got to Valenti and his friends and strangled them with their own intestines.

I like taking my time with my victims. I enjoy the hunt just as much as I enjoy watching the life leave their eyes after I listen to them beg me for mercy.

“My angel told me that Valenti made her work naked, and you assholes touched her all night. That was a big fucking mistake on your part. Elena is mine. Mine to scare. Mine to chase. Mine to touch.”

Eight. I’ve given him eight souls since September sixth. It should have only been one. It should have only been me.

“My mother met him when he was deep in his depression, and from what she tells me, he was nothing like the man he is now. She says she knows he’s her soulmate because she fell in love with him anyways. Demons and all.”

“See? You Texan ladies are like sirens. It’s the accent.”

“Baby, we’ve got somewhere to be in a few minutes and my dick thinks that somewhere is buried inside you.”

I whimper in equal parts fear and ecstasy, and by the time he’s done with me, he’s fucked me so hard I can feel him in my soul.

“Edwin always used to say that I was intense in all aspects of my life. I always thought he was full of shit. He was an old man, trying to be a father figure to a punk ass kid who didn’t want to listen. It wasn’t until I got older that I started to notice it. Anger. Guilt. Jealousy. Pride. Then I met you, and falling in love was like some nuclear catalyst inside me. I’ve been consumed by it—by you. I can’t think about anything else except how much I want you to be mine to love, forever.” He takes a deep breath. “I mean that in the kind of way that’s going to suffocate you one day but I can’t stop. I can’t fucking stop. I won’t be satisfied until I am every part of your existence as you are mine.”

He chooses to celebrate his historic success with a bottle of red wine and his tongue on my clit because, in his words, I’m ‘the single best pairing with a good Cabernet’.

“Do you believe in God?” I ask. He nods, and I laugh. “Look at me. Look at me. I’m your God now. Do you want to know why? Because I’m the only motherfucker on this planet that can show you mercy. Start praying. You’ll need it.”

“I had a fucking gun to my head!” I shout, causing her to sink into the covers. I growl to myself. “I had my finger on the fucking trigger. If you started screaming a femtosecond later, I would have already blown my brains out.” My voice cracks. “If I don’t have you, then I have nothing. I am nothing. So if that’s really what you want, angel,” I pull my gun from the back of my pants and hold it to my temple, “then let me pull the trigger this time.”

I know it’s not healthy, and it sure as hell isn’t fair to put this kind of pressure on you—to make you the essential anchor of my mortal life. To make you the tether to which I stay on this Earth. But you are. I made you a goddess, Elena, and I worship you. You are my religion and my whole life is dedicated to loving you. That’s what the most loyal disciples do, right? Dedicate their lives to their divine savior. If you never find it in your heart to trust me again—if you never believe another word I say—believe that I love you. My love isn’t perfect, and it isn’t beautiful. It’s broken and scarred and ugly, but all of it is yours. I will always be yours. I will always be here ready to bow before the holy master of my soul.

Safe isn’t a place. It’s the people that love you.

“When I told you that you made me believe in soulmates, I didn’t just mean in this lifetime, or even in this universe. My heart has always belonged to you, even if I didn’t know it at first. I would love you even if I had no heart to give you, because you are the sole reason for my existence. My soul would love you if we lived on different continents and spoke different languages. My soul would be tethered to you across oceans and mountains and harrowing canyons as black as my heart. My soul would be yours if I pulled the trigger the night we met, because not even death could keep us apart. God couldn’t keep me from you, because God isn’t real, but you are, and that’s all the motivation I would have needed to find you.”

“I’d offer you my heart and my soul, but you’ve had both of those from the moment we met. What more of myself do I have left to give that you don’t already possess?” I sigh wistfully. “I have my last name, if you think it's worthy enough to follow the five letters you’ve carved into my heart.” I take a deep breath. “Elena Louise Young, my angel, my love, my life, will you marry me?”