The Captive

Chapter 16: Don't Be a Witch

Scar's POV

When I entered the dungeon, her scent enveloped me.

I guess since she'd been down here it just decided to possess the room.

I found her awake and throwing a rock at the wall and catching it as it bounced back.

Her knees were bent in front of her and her thin gown was rucked up her shapely legs.

She kept throwing the rock, though I knew she knew I was there.

"You look...better." I said.

She didn't look at me as she spoke "You really think so?"

I sighed "Really. Look, I'm going to let you out in a few minutes, but you're not going out...like that?"

She stood and turned to me "Like what?"

The shadow that the torch cast on her made the dress nearly translucent. How did I miss those...

I tore my gaze from her chest and held up the pile of folded clothes in my arms. It was a skirt and shirt that Julie had procured for me. She glared at me while doing it, but she did it nonetheless.

"Get dressed, Vas." I said sternly.

She raised her brows and I should've known that she'd try to do something like what she did.

I watched in amazed horror as she untied the string around the neck of her dressing gown and pulled it over her head.

I fought hard to keep my eyes on her face, but damn it, this was my mate. Though I may feel like she betrayed me, and though she may be doing this to spite me, she was still a beautifully shaped woman.

Her legs were toned, her hips gently curving into her waist before winding into her narrow ribcage and showcasing her breasts. They were magnificent...

Damn. I must've been blind not to have seen her body before. Then again, those manly clothes had to have hid those shapely curves.

"Enjoying the view?" She asked innocently as she walked forward.

I met her piercing gaze once again, trying to overlook the patchwork skin at her throat "Very much. I hope you don't do this for every man you come across."

She rolled her eyes "Oh no, only the ones that tell me to change and stick around to watch the show."

I shoved the clothes through the bars "Just do it already."

She snorted and grabbed them from me before setting them on the ground and examining them.

I turned around "Oh, so now you turn around?" She taunted.

I growled "Just get dressed already, you harlot."

She scoffed "If you're going to call me names, you might as well make up something original. That one is so cliche. I've heard the churchgoers use it so many times it makes me gag."

I hissed "So you have a reputation?"

She laughed "Oh yeah. I'm a real hussy." She snorted "The boys were really attracted to that wet carcass smell and that way I'd always come into town covered in animal blood. Oh, don't forget to mention my god-given talent for cursing."

I turned around, scowling and found her dressed.

The skirt was a deep purple that came to the ground and tied around the waist where the beige shirt was tucked in. It hugged her body, but the sturdy material hid it much better than the dressing gown, and finally the leather jacket, rolled at the sleeves, that she'd worn when she was still V.