My clothes were always too big, too long, enough to hide the terrible scars on my stomach and my legs.Five years ago, a pack of rogues swarmed Damien. In the half-second that mattered, I was the one who stepped in front of him, then fought them off with one arm while shielding him, half-dead, with the other, until the guards arrived. I came out of it shredded. The rogues' claws were coated in wolfsbane, so I was left with scars that will never close as long as I live.When Damien and I were together, I could never look at my own body. I thought the scars were hideous. But he didn't mind them, not back then. He used to kiss every wound, reverent, looking at me like I was everything."I'll never forget what you gave up for me. These aren't scars. They're proof of how much you love me."But the scars never healed, and his love curdled long ago.The next morning I did as he'd told me and carried the gown to Serena's room. She'd made sure the door was wide open. As I passed, she pitched
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