Betrayed By Beauty - Ashley Lane Page 0,54
of Malcolm. After all, this is between me and him.
Seeing he’s won yet another round, Malcolm backs away but not before he narrows his eyes on my drink. “Drinking on shift… what a naughty girl.” He tsks. “That better not be alcohol, Oakley. It would be a shame if our boss found out.”
I tighten my grip on the glass. “Excuse me, I need to go.” This time, I rush forward, not even glancing back at him. When I make it inside to the women’s bathroom, I go into the cubicle and sit on the toilet seat.
Do not cry. Do not give him the power of winning your tears. Even still, I can’t stop the stray tear that streaks down my face.
A few deep breaths and some ridiculous inner speeches later, I finish my drink. I leave the empty glass on the bathroom counter, and wash my hands before I head back to the bar, determined to get through this day without any more reminders of my past and the scars it left me with.
***
ANGEL
Where did she go?
One minute, Malcolm was up in Oakley’s face, the next minute she was gone. I narrow my eyes, scanning the crowd for her. I know something happened. The second the douchebag that’s been eyeing her all night stepped in front of her, his hard gaze pinned on Malcolm, I knew something was going down. Knowing his days are numbered is the only thing that kept me in my seat. That and the fact that Malcolm is smart. If he got even a hint that I have a special interest in Oakley, I know whatever vendetta he has against her now would turn tenfold.
Okay so, special interest may not be the best words, but I can’t explain my fascination with her. Through the years countless women who have fallen on hard times have come and gone through our doors. But if I’m being honest with myself, I know what it is that’s drawing me to her.
Her scars.
From the moment I met her, I’ve been utterly captivated by the deep pink scars that mar her otherwise pale flesh. As though they’ve been designed by an artist, the scars twist, turn, and shoot across her skin in branch-like formations from her hairline, across her cheek, and down past her jaw and neck. It’s almost as though the entire root system of a large tree has been burned into her flesh. Other parts appear more like deep scars that were somehow carved into her flesh.
That night I spent hours lying in my bed and scouring the internet for pictures and information on burns and scars.
From what I can tell, Oakley’s scars are similar to the ones that remain after scarification or branding. But further research showed similar scars on lightning and electrical burn victims.
Further down her chest, and on her arm where I’ve only caught a few fleeting glances, her skin appears to have healed from either second- or third-degree burns. She’s an enigma, and there’s an aching need growing inside me to learn her body and read her scars. My fingers itch to trace them, to follow their crooked paths and raised surfaces and find a way into her heart and soul, using the lines on her skin as a map. An indelible imprint into the secrets she holds beneath those beautiful eyes. More than anything, I want answers to my questions about them. How did it happen? Was it an accident? What happened in her life that led her to staying at Angel’s Cove? Who do I need to protect her from?
As always, it’s the last question that has me pausing, wondering for the hundredth—or is it the thousandth time—Why do I want to protect her? What was it about her that calls to me?
Stop lying to yourself, Maddox. That need to protect her comes from a place so different to hers, yet it’s still the same. While Oakley and I are both judged for our outer appearances and it’s clear Oakley loathes her own, I doubt she realizes just how much I loathe mine too.
I need to show her—make her not only believe but understand that true beauty comes from within.
Jesus Christ… I’m turning into Jax. Protecting and fixing the broken ones until they learn to love themselves again.
An hour later, I’m sitting at an outdoor table beside Jax, watching Shelly and Tasha swim together inside the mermaid tank. The mermaid tank cost a pretty fucking penny to rent for the night but by the