“You.” He kissed another of the strange letters. “Are.” And another. “So fucking.” And still another. “Beautiful.” Taking hold of my leg, he draped it over his shoulder and planted a kiss to my inner thigh. “And you are mine. These scars are mine. Your pain is mine.” He stared down at me with such intensity, I had to look away, but a hook of his finger guided my eyes back to his. “Nothing can change what you are to me. No scar. No curse. Not even death.”
