The War God Returns to Conquer

Chapter 2

Amara’s heart pounded against her ribs. Her eyes searched every corner of the vast bedroom, but there was nowhere to hide. The heavy double doors were closed, and the giant of a man stood right in front of them, blocking her only exit.

What a fool I’ve been, she thought, her breath short and shallow. She had actually trusted this stranger, believing he could heal her. Now, trapped in his house, terror took complete control. He was going to hurt her—or worse, kill her and throw her body away.

When Leon took a step closer, grabbed her wrist, and dragged her toward the bed, she broke down. Tears pooled behind her silver mask and streamed down her face.

"Please... don't hurt me!" she begged, pulling against his grip with all her weight. "You said you were going to help me!"

"That is what I am trying to do, Amara," Leon said, his voice flat and steady. "Why won't you just stand still?"

To Amara, being forced onto a bed had nothing to do with medicine. She kicked and thrashed, fighting with every bit of strength left in her body.

Leon pinned her down with one hand. With his other, he unbuckled his leather belt in a quick, practiced motion. Amara let out a choked cry as he tied her wrists together and strapped them tightly to the bedpost.

He looked down at her red silk gown. It was heavy, stiff with layers of fabric and zippers that were impossible to undo while she was squirming.

Without waiting, he grabbed the neckline of her dress and ripped it straight down the middle.

Amara froze, left wearing nothing but her panties with no bra.

Her pulse raced, and her heart pounded in her chest. But to her surprise, Leon's eyes didn't wander. He didn't stare at her exposed body. Instead, his gaze remained fixed firmly on her eyes.

"Can you calm down now?" he asked, rubbing the back of his neck with a sigh. "I'm trying to fix your face."

Leon turned on his heel and walked out, leaving the door open just an inch.

Tied to the bed, Amara lay crying into the mattress. In the quiet room, her mind drifted back over the last five years

Ever since the night she ran into the burning Hart house to drag a dying man out of the fire, her life had been ruined. Her face was destroyed, her looks were gone, and her own family treated her like an embarrassment. She had spent five years listening to people whisper and laugh behind her back.

Her desperation to escape that life was the only reason she had followed this stranger out of the party tonight. She hated herself for being so naive, but a small part of her still hoped he was telling the truth.

Ten minutes passed before the door opened again.

Amara gasped. Leon walked back in shirtless. He had broad shoulders, a wide chest, and thick, pale scars across his skin. His dark trousers sat low on his hips.

Terror flared up again, and she started pulling against the belt.

He carried a heavy bowl, stirring a thick white paste with a small wooden stick as he walked over.

"Amara, stop," he said, setting the bowl on the nightstand. "I’m not going to hurt you. I promise."

He leaned down and held her jaw firmly with his left hand so she couldn't turn away. With his right hand, he untied the ribbons holding her silver mask and pulled it off.

Amara held her breath, waiting for him to look away, flinch, or show disgust the way everyone else always did.

He didn't even blink.

He tossed the mask onto the table and looked straight into her eyes.

"This medicine was made by military doctors," Leon said, his thumb resting lightly against her cheek. "It uses harsh chemicals. It won't harm bare skin, but if it touches cloth, it burns straight through to the meat. That's why your dress had to come off."

Immediately Understanding hit her, and her racing heart finally slowed down. She was still breathing fast, but she stopped fighting.

"When I put this on your skin, it is going to burn bad," he warned. "It won't last long, but you need to hold still. You said you wanted your face back."

Amara gave him a small nod.

Leon dipped his fingers into the bowl and scooped out a dollop of the smooth white paste. He spread it over the thick burn scars covering her face and collarbone.

At first, it just felt cold. Amara almost thought he was exaggerating the danger.

Then the medicine set in.

A sharp, violent pain flared up, feeling like hundreds of hot needles driving deep into her skin all at once.

Amara’s back arched off the mattress, a sharp scream tearing out of her throat. Leon leaned over her, holding her shoulders down so she wouldn't scratch her skin. He turned his head away, hating to see her suffer like this.

Knowing how bad it hurt, he shoved his forearm in front of her mouth.

In her agony, Amara bit down on his arm with all her strength. Leon gritted his teeth and didn't pull back. He stayed still, even when he felt her teeth sink deep enough to break the skin.

Later, Amara sat shivering on a stool in the bathroom, holding her arms tight over her chest.

Leon stood at the sink, mixing another small batch of the paste.

"Almost done," he said softly. "You're doing well."

Amara nodded weakly, pushing her damp hair out of her eyes.

Leon came over and finished covering her neck and jaw. Then he wrapped clean white cloth bandages over her face, leaving openings for her eyes, nose, and mouth.

He stood between her knees and held out both hands. Amara grabbed them, squeezing with everything she had left.

When the second wave of burning started, the pain hit twice as hard. Amara cried out and threw her arms around his waist, burying her face against his chest.

Leon held her tight, letting her lean her weight on him. She bit into his shoulder this time, her fingers digging into his back. He winced but didn't push her away. A few seconds later, the pain proved too much, and her body went limp as she passed out.

Five days went by.

On the fifth morning, sunlight poured through the bedroom window. Leon leaned against the doorframe, watching Amara sleep on the bed.

For five days, he had changed her bandages, put on fresh cream, and cleaned her skin. Now, it was done.

Even wrapped in white cloth, she looked peaceful. He walked over to the bed, and her eyes opened.

Leon crouched beside her. "Morning. Ready?"

Amara rubbed her eyes. "Today? It's done already?"

"It's done," he said.

He helped her stand up and walked her into the bright bathroom.

She sat on the stool while he carefully cut and unwrapped the layers of cloth. Amara’s hands shook in her lap the entire time.

When the last piece of cloth fell to the floor, Leon stopped and let out a quiet breath.

Amara took it the wrong way. Her heart sank.

"It failed, didn't it?" she asked, her voice cracking as tears filled her eyes. "It's fine... my parents tried for five years. I shouldn't have believed you..."

Leon didn't answer. He took her hands, pulled her up, and turned her around to face the mirror.

The words caught in her throat.

The mirror showed her face—smooth, clear, and soft, without a single scar on it. The red, twisted skin from the fire was completely gone.

She looked even better than she had before the accident.

Amara lifted her trembling hands and touched her cheeks, her jaw, and her neck. She couldn't believe what she was looking at.

She put a hand over her mouth and burst into tears.

"Is this really me?" she sobbed, staring at her reflection. "It's completely gone?"

Without thinking, she turned around and kissed Leon on the cheek. As soon as her lips left his skin, she realized what she had done. A deep red blush spread across her face, and she quickly stepped back, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"I'm sorry," she stammered, looking down at the floor. "I just... thank you. Thank you for fixing me."

Leon looked down at her, his face serious. "Don't apologize, Amara."

"I don't know how I can ever pay you back," she said, looking up into his eyes. "You said you wanted something from me. Whatever it is, just tell me."

"Marry me."