Free Born of Legend by Sherrilyn Kenyon

even stand to look at your repugnant form. You think anyone else can?
    His aunt Tylie had been right. No one wanted anything to do with him.
    They never had.
    And never would the gods allow him a female as beautiful or accomplished as Ushara on his arm. Someone so incredibly kind and soft. Delicate.
    She smelled like a warm summer afternoon.
    Her pale hair picked up every light, even in the dimness of the station, and beckoned him to touch it. It was so compelling … but he’d seen enough females cringe and recoil from him that he had no desire to watch her do the same. He was through reaching for things that weren’t his to have, and getting bitch-slapped for the effort.
    â€œThanks,” he mumbled, moving away her.
    She gently took his arm and pulled him to a stop.
    Baffled, he scowled as she reached into his pocket and pulled out his link. Then she programmed a number into it before she slid it back into his coat. “In case you need something. It’s my number.”
    â€œReally?”
    She looked as shocked as he’d sounded. “That surprises you?”
    â€œLittle bit.”
    Smiling, she reached up and brushed the hair back from his forehead.
    Jullien closed his eyes and savored the tenderness of that single action that probably meant nothing to her. Yet it meant a lot to him and sent chills all over his body. No one had ever touched him with that amount of affection before. But the worst part was the scent of her skin that made him so hard, it was painful.
    Her fingers lingered on the scar that bisected his left eyebrow and it was nothing compared to what it’d done to the mark it’d left on his soul. “Do I want to know what caused this?” she asked as she removed his glasses.
    â€œProbably not.”’Cause the gods knew he didn’t want to recall the event.
    Her gaze went to his pupils where she studied his eyes for several seconds before she spoke again. “Are you still using Popivul?”
    He laughed bitterly as he realized what she’d been doing. While most Andarions had a degree of light sensitivity and pupils that didn’t dilate the same way human eyes did, his years of drug abuse had left his with a permanent enlarged pupil that was easily detectable to those educated about such things. “Looked up my personal file, did you?”
    She nodded.
    Pulling his collar back, he showed her his neck and the old, faded scars from his misspent years of severe drug addiction that had required him to keep his hair much longer to conceal it. If he were still using, the area would be severely discolored and bruised. “I’ve been sober for a long time now. No creds for it.”
    She screwed her face up at the lingering horrendous marks that he always made sure to hide with clothing. “Why did you ever start that?”
    â€œDidn’t. My cousin Merrell held me down while his mother injected me. He and his brothers and mother found that I was much more pliant to their schemes whenever I was high. After a few times of them forcing it in me, I didn’t want to be sober anymore. It was easier to deal with my family while numb to it all.”
    Ushara couldn’t imagine a family like he described. It was as foreign to her as loving kindness would be to him. “How long have you been sober?”
    â€œSince the night my brother threw me across a table in a crowded restaurant and threatened to paint the wall behind me with my brain matter. It sobered me fast. Not to mention the way my parents looked at me … like I was the vilest piece of shit who had ever breathed. My mother actually told me that if she lost my brother over my actions she would hand seal me in my coffin, and listen to me scream while I died in it. And my father told me that he’d never forgive me. That I was dead to him. If you saw my files, then you know he meant every word of that. We haven’t spoken since, as he quickly blocked my calls and