Scarred and Beautiful

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Scarred and Beautiful

By: Keaira Akuji

Chapter Five: End of Beginnings

Alexia growled her annoyance as she stared at the door that linked her chambers and Turles’. The bell sounded again. This was not what she had bargained for. In coming here, she had hoped to receive duties that would give her ample time alone. She needed to keep up her training, and most certainly did not want to spend all her hours catering to the needs of some arrogant lord. She had seen the servants fear when Tein introduced her. He had told them of her new role and seen the shock written on their faces. She had heard the stories about him before she ventured here- it was after all, the reason she came here, but she thought they were rumors at best. She was not expecting the fear all the servants seemed to carry. All that is, except Tein. He just seemed to accept his lord’s nature as he did everything else in the castle. What made a monster out of such a man?

Alexia pushed open the door and walked into Turles’ chambers. The room was a large sitting room. She saw adjacent doors leading into a bedroom and a bathroom. She glanced around at the room’s décor. Dark, masculine, everything she thought it would be. A sharp voice brought her out of her study.

“Next time, you answer on the first bell.” Turles growled as he walked out of a dark corner. “Is it not your duties to see to me?”

Alexia sighed and rolled her eyes, “What is it you need my lord?”

Turles’ eyes narrowed and he continued to walk towards her. She stepped backwards until her backside collided with the wall. What was he playing at? She started to feel the same tingly sensation she had felt back in the great hall earlier when she had first met him. He did not stop until there was mere inches separating them. He seemed to tower over her, even though she was as tall as most men.

He is trying to intimidate me. She thought. Let him try. She raised her eyes defiantly to his, meeting his glare for one of her own.

“Are you trying to test my control little girl? This is not a game you can win.” He snarled.

Alexia pushed down her own anger and responded, “No, you called me in here. Rather rang me here. So what do you want?”

“You are rather brash for one hiding out in my castle.” He responded.

“So it would seem. Now tell me, did you want me for something or did you merely call me here to chit chat with you? Because I am not so good at the whole conversation thing, so you can tell me what you want, or I will leave.” She replied angrily. She was trying to keep a rein on her temper, but he just infuriated her! Her body’s response to his nearness infuriated her. She had never felt desire for any man and she damn well was not going to start now.

Turles reached out and grabbed her arms, slamming her back into the wall behind her. “Mind you tongue, wench. It is by my grace alone I do not turn you over to those you seek you. I will not tolerate your insolence.”

“Then don’t provoke me. I am not one of your servants that tremble at the mere thought of you. Just give me my orders.” Alexia snuffed.

Turles tightened his grip on her upper arms until she flinched from pain. “Fine, first draw my bath, then clean this room- and beat the rugs out. Wash the linens and change the bed. When you are finished, clean and polish all the armor of there in those chests. Then take my plates down to the kitchens, then-”

“Alright!” Alexia interjected. “I cannot get that all done tonight, so don’t keep listing all this stuff to do. Cleaning this room will take hours alone, not to mention polishing armor that looks like it hasn’t seen sunlight in near a century.”

“You will finish it before you seek sleep or I will have you whipped raw.” Turles growled. “You are here to work, not rest.”

She wiggled out of his grasp, “I will finish the damn things, but not tonight!” She poked his chest. “If you want to keep up this ‘I am so mean and terrible routine,’ then I am not going to stop you, but I will not be bullied! If you want to assert your dominance and whip me go ahead, I am not going to shy away from a little pain.”

He grabbed her wrist and squeezed till Alexia was sure he crushed the bones. “I am not going to spare you because you are a woman. Let see if you keep up this bravdo when your skin opens up under the whip!” Turles flung her against the open wall, and went to his weapon chest. Shoving aside swords and shield he picked a worn leather whip.
“Turn around.” He growled and removed his fine shirt.

Alexia folded her arms across herself. What was he trying to prove? She felt her pulse quicken at the sight of his scarred chest and back. What the hell was wrong with her? She should be repulsed, not aroused! She growled. If he wanted to whip her into submission he could try, but he would fail. She turned so her back was to him, and planted her feet.

Turles was shocked she complied. Why was she not begging his forgiveness? Did she welcome a whipping? “This could scar your pretty little flesh. If you give me a compelling apology, I might spare you.”

Alexia huffed. “I am already scarred and unwanted. Do your worst, it will make no difference to me. I am here because I chose to be; better whipped and safe, then healthy and on the run.” Alexia said out loud, more to herself than her companion.

Turles frowned at her strange words, perhaps she was off in the head? “What are you mumbling about wench?” He lowered the whip.

“Do you still wish to whip me? I would rather just get it over with.” Alexia sounded bored. He could go beat on his chest with someone else.

Turles narrowed his eyes, “I am feeling merciful today, now tell me what your words meant.”

Alexia sighed and turned around. “Why do you care?”

“Humor me.” Turles sat on one of the leather sofas. It had been a long time since he actually talked with someone, argued with someone. She did not shy away from his face, but met his eyes with defiance. He could not help but admire her. She made him feel almost normal. He had tried to scare her with a whipping and she never backed down. He watched her carefully.

“We all have our own scars, my lord. You are not the only one. I am disfigured and ugly. I do not care what else happens to my flesh. Surely you can understand that.” Alexia tried to sound uncaring, but failed. She sounded sad and rejected to her own ears, but each time she voiced the truth, it hurt, no matter how many times she said it to herself.

“Uh-huh. And what would one such as you know about scars. You think yourself disfigured why?” Turles questioned.

Alexia walked up to him and began unbuttoning her shirt. Turles raised an eyebrow but did not stop her. She turned her back to him once again and let her shirt fall. Then her brassiere fell to the ground. Turles gaped when he saw her back. She was heavily tattooed. Rather, it was one large intricate tattoo that ran from her shoulders and disappeared into her trousers, he could not help but wonder at how far it went.

“These are tattoos.” He stated. “Do you regret them now? Did you not choose to be marked so? It is common knowledge they are unbecoming on a woman.”

“Look closer. Look at the skin they cover.” Alexia trembled under his gaze and moisture gathered behind her eyes. She felt almost relief at showing them to someone else, as if her burden lightened.

Turles looked at the individual markings. He stifled a gasp as he understood. The tattoos traced the pattern of her scars. The puckered flesh was still there under the ink. How strange. He thought. That her scars are in such a pattern, so deliberate, so personal.

He reached one hand up and traced the pattern. “What happened?”

She shivered under his touch. She felt the tingles begin anew and with earnest, spreading like fire from his touch. “A pound of flesh. That was my penalty for my crimes, along with disownment and banishment.”

Turles felt her pain as he continued to trace the pattern; he rested his other hand on her hip. Strange, this peace that settled over him when he touched her. Her voice now soothed him, when only a few moments ago, it boiled the anger in his blood. “What was the crime?”

“I killed my father’s best warrior- a man who was to be my husband. He tried to take me one night in the gardens. We were alone, and I had never really liked him. He was much older than I, I was only fifteen. His efforts at seduction were met with a hard end. He tore my dress and grabbed me. I grabbed his sword and ran him through.” Alexia shut her eyes tight at the memory. “He was like a son to my father. Our kingdom followed the old laws to the letter. My father had the skin stripped from my back, disowned me as his daughter, and banished me from the kingdom.”

Turles’ hands clenched in anger, and they called him a monster when her own father had tortured her so! He forced himself into calmness again. He smoothed his hands over her shoulders.

Alexia’s heart skipped a beat. Turles’ gentle rubbing was affecting her greatly. Her blood rushed and heated from his fingertips. Strange, only a few moments ago she was seething with anger, now, even after her tale, she still felt calm and peace. Well, calm considering she was getting hotter than the sun under his touch. “What happened to you?” she breathed. Her voice sounded husky and far away.

Turles breathed in deeply. He could smell her arousal. His pride soared. A woman turned on by his mere touch- his! Even her question of his past did not dampen her arousal. He could smell her fluid heat. “I was tortured for two years by Freezia.” The simple sentence summed up so much. He slipped his hands from her shoulders and brushed the gentle swell of her breast. He swirled around their soft swell, cupping their weight in his palm. He heard her sharp gasp. She still did not stop him. He smirked. It must have been many days since she last took a man for her to respond so. Maybe her time here could benefit them both.

Alexia moaned deep in her throat as he plucked at her nipples. They tightened into buds, pressing into his hands. She had never been touched so, not by anyone. She knew she should stop him. She would, in just one more minute…


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