Their Wife: Book 2

Six (Part 3)

The word echoed in the otherwise quiet room.

An arm dropping over my shoulder followed by a drawn-out whistle made me jump.

"I agree with the Fae, try it," Ryder said as leaned against me and appreciated the dress Ares was holding with his eyes.

The dress wasn't bad per se, in fact, it was ordinary for any other person, modest compared to the scraps I thought I would be forced into considering the part I needed to play. But that was for an ordinary person. Not one that carried marks of her past on the skin that crawled in memory when looked at too long. The dress was one picked to make me catch everyone's eye, a terrifying thing for some like me, someone who tried to shrink and hide. It had thin straps that held a pastel yellow dress just short of resembling a highlighter that flowed not too far down the thigh. The top was fitted while the bottom flared out slightly.

I could handle the attention that would come from the colour alone, but the attention that would come from the eyes that were looking at the scars that marked my exposed skin? I couldn't handle that, it was too personal to show the struggles that marked my skin to strangers. I thought I could as I prepared myself for my contribution, but I couldn't. The cold sweat I was breaking out into over a dress was evident of that.

Ares turned, disregarding my refusal. "Fitting rooms are this way," he said without looking back as he headed towards the back of the store where I could see smaller curtained-off sections.

I didn't move at first but had very little choice in the matter when Ryder pulled me along with him behind the dark-haired man.

"Come on," he said like he was giving me any more of a choice than Ares was.

Despite the hostility he had displayed towards him, it seemed Ryder was more loyal to Ares than the person he had apparently soul-bound without consent.

"I can't wear that," I protested as we caught up to the assassin.

Ares pulled back one of the heavy velvet curtains to reveal a small fitting room that contained a mirror. He hung the dress on one of the three hooks that lined the wall and stepped aside, holding the curtain open for me.

"Why not?" He asked simultaneously with Ryder. His eyes narrowed slightly at the fox-eared man before focusing back onto me.

I licked my lips, not believing that I had to explain the obvious to a supposed top assassin. He himself had helped with my back, even applying salve on my still healing wounds at the inn while Ryder had been using the bathroom. How could he overlook the obvious issue the dress would pose for me? I didn't think the bastard nephew of a king would be very interested in damaged goods. He probably had far better options to chose from.

Now that I felt the fire once again burn in my chest, I wanted things to go smoothly in getting back home.

The more I thought about it, the better my chances of a normal future seemed. A soul bond wouldn't matter if I was in a different realm than the fox man. It could become something that I could forget, and maybe, since magical items couldn't exist on earth, maybe the bond wouldn't either. I would also need to help Ares adjust to earth, so I knew that I'd be protected from him until we at least parted ways.

I wanted to succeed.

"It's too revealing. It'll expose..." I trailed off, choosing instead to gesture in the direction of my back while encompassing everything else, in general, that was wrong with me.

Ares shook his head. "You're going be glamoured as a High Fae when you engage the target. Everything will be hidden from sight."

"Oh," I responded, not know what else to say. Although it was nice to know my imperfections wouldn't get in the way, I still felt uneasy about trying on the dress. "Glamoured?" I asked, hoping that it was something that was going to happen before I tried the dress on. Although I wouldn't be displaying them as I feared, I still didn't want my scars and wounds out there for the two men to see in the open light. Ares had seen the wounds on my back, and possibly elsewhere since he had possibly dressed me that once, but even if he had, it was unnerving to have the history etched into my skin out there for them to focus on, especially since I would be conscious this time.