Chapter 18 - Don't Leave

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I didn't know whether to be concerned or horrified as I stared at the grotesque scar in the middle of my mate's back. It gave me a bad feeling, but I couldn't look away. What did it mean? What had happened to Dean? Or perhaps a better question could be, what did he do? A scar that intricate was purposely placed there, whether it be by Dean, or someone else.

The mood was clearly ruined. I couldn't focus on anything besides the possibilities swirling through my mind, and Dean was tense and silent.

"What is it?" I finally asked, my voice barely a whisper.

The air around us seemed to still, feeling thick and heavy. There was definitely something not right about this situation.

Dean took in a deep breath, holding it for a moment before releasing it from his chest with a gruff sigh. If that had been his attempt at relaxing himself before discussing this matter, he had failed miserably. His toned muscles stood taut against his skin, revealing his discomfort.

"It's a scar," he grumbled before slowly sliding off of the bed.

His movements jolted my mind a bit, reminding me that I was sitting in the middle of our bed with no shirt on. My face heated up and I looked around frantically for my shirt. There was no way I could have such a serious conversation while feeling so...exposed.

I finally felt the cotton fabric of my t-shirt wedged underneath the sheets and quickly pulled it out and slipped it over my head. Once I pulled my head through my shirt hole and brushed my hair out of my face, I saw that Dean was halfway across the room, heading for the door.

"Dean," I called out, gently. "I know it's a scar, but what's it from?" I tried again. I didn't want to jump to any conclusions or approach the situation demandingly. Not only could that anger my fiery mate, but it'd also make him more reluctant to confide in me.

Dean stopped, staring down at the floor and shaking his head slowly. His hand was on the door frame, ready to pull the door open and escape this uncomfortable situation, "A branding iron."

A branding iron? So, it was a burn – a deep burn, at that. Not quite what I'd expected, but it made sense now that I thought it over. No knife or razor could carve such a perfect shape into human flesh.

Silence surrounded us once again. I stayed rooted in my spot in the middle of the bed, afraid to do anything to anger my mate. We'd made such wonderful progress with each other today, I couldn't risk spoiling it now. That, and he was quite frightening when he was angry. Frightening, and unpredictable.

"I told you Audrey, I'm not a good man," he added before pulling the door open and quickly making his escape.

~~

As the hours went by, my anxiety grew. I spent the majority of the time pacing the living room, desperately hoping that Dean would come back any minute. I considered leaving to search for him, but that thought disappeared as quickly as it came. If Dean was truly this angry or troubled, hunting him down would likely make matters worse. He probably needed some alone time to sort out of his thoughts – at least, I hoped that was the case.

It had grown quite late, and I began to wonder if Dean planned to return at all tonight. To say I was worried would be an understatement – the knot in my stomach was so tight, I felt as though I'd be sick. Had all the progress we made today been flushed down the drain by a simple question? Was whatever that brand stood for, truly that bad?

I wanted to know, but if Dean considered it shameful enough to hide away for hours, I couldn't help but fear the worst.

After nearly wearing a path in the floor from my pacing, I decided to go back to bed and at least try to get some sleep. I doubted it would come easy. Not only had I grown used to sleeping next to my mate, but my mind was busy sorting through a vast array of concerns and ideas.

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