Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 88447 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88447 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
With my attention diverted away from her, she relaxed more and smiled down at her dog, her hair still hiding half her face. “Yeah, he’s some kind of mutant. The organization I got him from uses shelter dogs, so your guess is as good as mine about what kind of dog he is. He’s a little overweight, but you should have seen pictures of him when he was rescued as a puppy from a junkyard. He was just skin and bones, so I may give him an extra treat, or twenty, a day.”
Vali gave me a wide, doggy smile, and I could see how someone might be intimidated by him. His teeth seemed bigger than normal, and I swore his canines looked like they belonged on a sabretooth tiger, not a dog. Combined with his almost all black coloring, and his size, I could see how people would be freaked out. But those kind of people never looked past the physical to the dog within. There was nothing but pure love and happiness shining from this dog’s eyes. He was chubby, though, there was no getting around it. A marshmallow inside and out.
“What a good boy,” I murmured as I scratched beneath his collar. This earned a grunting growl of pleasure from the dog, who then began to loudly groan in earnest as I used both hands.
“Vali.” Layla tossed her head back and laughed. “What are you doing? Stop that. I’m sorry, those are his happy noises. He’s a weirdo.”
I looked up with a smile that fell from my face. With her hair out of the way, I could see that a dark red blotch marred her cheekbone and shadowed her delicate jaw, like someone had hit her hard enough to leave a bad bruise that she’d tried to cover up with makeup.
Someone had hurt her.
Standing abruptly, I crowded her as I tried to get a better look at her face.
“Mark!” she yelled as she tried to push me back. “What the hell are you doing?”
I went to hold her still so I could see her cheek better, but Vali was suddenly between us, herding me back with a growl.
The playful, loving dog from earlier was gone, and a working guard dog stood in his place.
Realizing I’d overstepped my bounds, I held my hands out to show I meant no harm. “Shit. I’m sorry. Layla, you have a mark on your face. I was trying to get a better look at it to see what happened. I was worried that you might have hit yourself in the dark and not noticed.”
Wrapping her arms around herself, she took a step back, huddled in the corner as her hair once again covered her face. “I’m fine.”
Right away, all my internal alarms went off at the pain radiating in her voice. “Who hurt you?”
Her shoulders caved in, and she leaned forward so she could hide behind the curtain of her dark hair. “I said I’m fine. Leave it alone.”
Attempting to keep my tone soothing, I tried again. “Layla, if someone hurt you, please let me know. I can help.”
“There is nothing wrong with me,” she practically growled out as Vali pressed himself into her side.
“Layla, please, I saw the bruise. I swear to you that you don’t have to be afraid. If someone is hitting you—they have no right, do you understand? No one has a right to lay their hands on you in anger. I don’t care if it’s a boyfriend—”
She quickly muttered, “It was hot in here. I got sweaty, and my makeup smeared. I’m not hurt; it’s a birthmark.”
“What?”
Embarrassed anger filled her voice, turning it from velvet to broken glass. “It’s a birthmark. A big port-wine stain that goes from my jaw to my forehead, okay? I wear makeup to cover it up, but I must have sweated some of it off. It’s not contagious or anything.”
“I would never think that.” I winced, knowing I’d fucked up bigtime. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
Ignoring me, she turned to face the doors and picked up a white backpack with small stuffed animals hanging from the zippers.
Vali moved between us, and I tried again. “Layla, please, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“It’s fine,” she clipped, still not looking at me.
Feeling like an asshole, I tried to mend the breech. “I really am sorry. It’s barely noticeable.”
The harsh laughter that burst out of her startled me before she turned then pulled her hair back, revealing her face to me. “Right, hardly noticeable. I have a huge red mark that goes from my forehead down half of my face, then down my back. It is a deep red and purple color that stands out like a disgusting beacon. I constantly look like I’m walking around with a giant scab on my face. I’m ugly.”