Free Beyond the Horizon (The Sons of Templar MC Book 4) by Anne Malcom

him to see me. All of me.
    Asher’s body seemed to turn to stone. I avoided his eyes, so I didn’t see the fury burning in them.
    “Everyone looked at us on the outside and saw the perfect family. On the inside it was a nightmare. Every day I wondered if it was the day when he wouldn’t be able to stop. When I’d have to watch him kill my mom and not be strong enough to help her,” I whispered.
    “How old were you? When the fucker finally met the reaper?” Asher ground out, his tone blank.
    My eyes flickered up to his hard jaw. “I was nine,” I replied, my mind traveling back to the day when my father had a heart attack. The elation I felt when we realized he was gone. The shame I carried with me as a result of that elation.
    “Fuck,” he clipped. “Nine years,” he said, almost to himself. “Nine years you had to live with that, and you still turned into this.” His hand trailed along the side of my face, his eyes regarding me in what I could only describe as amazement.
    I swallowed. “I was glad,” I blurted. “Glad when he died. That my mom and I could escape. That she would be free of his chains. I’m still glad. What kind of person feels happy when their father dies?” I whispered with shame.
    His fingers grasped my chin and forced me to meet his eyes. There was no disgust in his gaze. I’d been expecting to feel a new wash of shame as Asher digested my words, but nothing. The look on his face seemed like, pride. Respect.
    “The most magnificent creature I’ve ever met, that’s who,” he murmured softly. “The woman who hides the ugliness of what a monster did to her under the most beautiful surface I’ve ever seen. That beneath that surface lies more blinding beauty, untainted by that ugliness. Strength.”
    A tear trickled down my cheek. Asher’s hand swiped it away.
    “I’ve never told anyone that before,” I confessed.
    He watched me with a gaze I couldn’t decipher. “As sorry as I am that shit happened to you, flower, I’m glad I get that. Another piece of you that’s for me and me alone. I want all of you, but I’ll treasure the pieces that you choose to give to me and no one else,” he said, intensity drenching his beautiful words.
    We stayed silent for a long time after that. It was a silence that spoke a thousand words at once. That seemed to create a connection I couldn’t even understand, not at that moment. Three years later I’d still puzzle over it.
     

     
    I trailed my hand across Asher’s forearm. My back was pressed to his front, him holding me close to his naked body.
    “Why don’t you have any ink?” I asked suddenly. “Apart from on your back, the club emblem, why nothing else?”
    Almost every other member of the club was covered in tattoos.
    Asher’s arms tightened around me. “Tattoos are for life.” His breath tickled my ear. “Apart from the club, I’ve never loved anything that much to commit to a lifelong reminder of it on my body.”
    He pulled me onto my back and moved atop of me, holding his weight so his body only just skimmed mine. His eyes searched mine.
    “Why? Are you disappointed I’m not covered in ink like the rest of my brothers?” His voice was teasing, but there was a hardness underneath it, almost vulnerability.
    I stroked his jaw, feeling bold, like I’d been ever since we’d entered this bed. It was like my shyness melted away and I could be the me only a handful of people made me be.
    “No,” I said decisively. “I’m nowhere near disappointed. You’re perfect,” I added in a whisper.
    “No such thing as perfect, flower,” he murmured back. His fingers played with my hair. “If there was, I’m so far from that end of the spectrum it’s not even fuckin’ funny.” He looked at me. “Though, if perfect does exist, I’m looking at the embodiment of it right here,” he added hoarsely.
    My stomach did something weird at his words. Not weird wonderful, but weird like I ate a bad tuna sandwich.
    “You don’t