“What is it, baby?” Sam asked softly, lifting his head to look at her.
She couldn’t meet his eyes. His voice, so incredibly loving, soft and sexy, was everything a man’s voice should be. How could he talk to her like that? How could he look at her like that? As if she was the only woman in the world? She shook her head, another small sob escaping, further humiliating her. She had stopped crying the terrible night Whitney had thrown her like garbage into the street. She wasn’t that girl anymore. That useless child. She was Azami Yoshiie, samurai. But if she was, why hadn’t she told him everything?
“Stop it right now.”
Sam’s voice startled her. Shocked her. His tone was hard with authority and his eyes had gone from loving, consuming her with desire, to commanding.
Azami shook her head and twisted away from him. “I can’t do this. I’m sorry, Sam.”
She was sorry for both of them. She’d done the unforgivable, allowing him to think she could commit to him, to have a life with him. More, she’d convinced herself, but even her father had known the truth. Thorn was still inside of her, that small, ugly child who would never go away. She’d been born flawed and no matter what she did, she would always remain flawed, useless to a man such as Sam. He just couldn’t see it yet, blinded by his infatuation. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to a tell him the things he deserved to know before he chose her. Where was her honor? She was definitely that miserable child.
Sam moved faster than she thought a big man could, up and over her, catching her wrists, pinning them to the floor on either side of her head. His face was a hard mask, all edges and tight control.
“Don’t you ever, ever, do that to yourself again.”
She’d grown so used to Sam being in her mind that she hadn’t considered he could read her thoughts.
“Thorn is as much you as Azami is. It was Thorn’s courage I saw in the forest battling with the enemy. It may have been Azami’s skill and craft, but she’s not whole without Thorn—without Thorn’s absolute determination and courage. I love Thorn. That’s who you are. You’re a f**king miracle to me, and right now, all you’re doing is pissing me off. You don’t want to do that, Azami.”
Her heart thundered in her ears, a terrible storm of emotion she’d choked back for years—for a lifetime. “I hate her. I hate Thorn. She won’t go away. She’s curled up in the fetal position, huddling there inside of me and no matter what I do, she won’t go away.”
“She is you.”
“Stop saying that.” She tried to bring her knee up, to get leverage against him to get him off of her. “I’m my father’s daughter.”
“Stop fighting me. You’re not going to win in a physical battle with me, babe. All you’re going to do is hurt yourself.”
She hissed, grateful that her temper, long suppressed, was beginning to eat through her grief and shame. She needed anger to push him away. She wanted to touch his beloved face, to memorize every detail with her fingers. She’d never have the opportunity again, not once she left him. He wouldn’t forgive desertion. She’d seen his file, seen his mother’s treachery. He would forever brand her with that same label—no loyalty.
“Stop it,” he snapped again. “I’m in your mind. Have you forgotten that? You aren’t disloyal. You don’t have it in you. You chose me. There’s no going back on that choice. If you want to talk, then we’ll talk this out, but you aren’t going to push me away because you haven’t quite been able to reconcile your past with your future.”
“I have no future,” she snapped. “That’s what you refuse to understand. I have no future, not with you. Not with any man. I’m damaged. Broken. There’s no fixing me. I didn’t want to accept it, but … ”
“Damn it, Azami, I’m not going to listen to this bullshit. There’s nothing broken about you.” He rolled off of her, getting to his feet and pulling her up all in one motion, wincing a little as his gut protested.
He took her breath away with his grace. He moved like no other man she’d encountered, not even in the dojo where she trained. She tried to remember where she’d left her clothes. Her mind was in terrible chaos. She looked around her a little helplessly.
“Where is this coming from?” Sam asked.
He opened and closed his fist, a gesture she was certain he wasn’t aware of, but his eyes had dropped from her face to drift over her body. He didn’t look disgusted, if anything he looked tender and loving. His erection wasn’t quite as hard as it had been, but it was still there, still attracted to her in spite of … What? What was she doing? Why was she determined to shove him away from her? To throw happiness away?
“I need something to wear.” He didn’t mind her body, the evidence of her shame, but she couldn’t stand him looking at her, not now when she was so panic-stricken.
Sam glanced around the room, found her a shirt, and tossed it to her while he pulled on a pair of jeans, half buttoning them. Azami pulled his shirt around her body, hastily buttoning it up the front to cover herself and found his scent surrounding her, comforting her.
“Azami.” He whispered her name, an ache in his voice. “Talk to me, baby. Just say it out loud. Give us a shot at this. We’re both fighters. Fight for us. Am I so easy to throw away?”
Her head snapped up, her stomach sinking. Was that what she was doing? She shook her head. “This isn’t about you, Sam, it’s me. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to get rid of her. My father said … ” She trailed off, choking back her greatest shame.
She couldn’t look at him, she didn’t dare. She was being a coward. Running. So she wouldn’t have to tell him the rest.
Sam took a step forward and caught her chin in his hand, forcing her head up. “Tell me, Azami. No one else is here, just the two of us. What is this about?”
She took a deep breath and lifted her lashes, allowing herself to meet his eyes. She knew it would be a mistake. She wouldn’t be able to resist him, resist that look of such tenderness. He was offering her a world she was terrified to walk into. She knew her worth where she was. She could never go back to being useless, to feel as if she was nothing but garbage, deserving of being thrown out.
“Sam, I’m not meant for this kind of thing. You. Me. I wanted it—I still want it—but even my father believed I could not please a man.” The words came out in a little rush, but she got them out. The truth. Her shame. The one man she loved and respected above all others had decreed her useless as a wife and mother. There was only the battle for her, the protection of her brothers and their genius. Her father wouldn’t lie to her. He’d seen the damage done to her body and he knew the minds and hearts of men.
“You were meant for me.”