Undeniable Lover special deleted scene.
Below is a deleted scene from Undeniable Lover. This is Saar's backstory, where you learn about the injury he received as a youth, and I'm not referring to his scar, although that is a small part of it. What this is really about is his father. Read on to discover more...
With a sharp snap of his wrist, Saar pitched his sword onto his bed. His favorite weapon bounced on the comforter several times before coming to a stop. The blade’s sharp tip lay against the pillow in the exact place his cheek rested every day. An odd sense of reckoning sent a tingle up his arms.
His gaze drew to the mirror situated over his stark, barren dresser and to his reflection within the glass. The shimmery image distorted into a grotesque mask, a deep, jagged cut tracking from his cheek through his lip and over his chin.
Bile rose in his throat. I’m forever scarred. He couldn’t maintain eye contact with himself and dropped his gaze.
“Saar! Come here!” Canteron’s deep baritone filtered through the doorway.
Saar fisted his hand, unwilling to submit to his father’s beck and call, but he relented as any good, loyal son would. As he walked into the main living quarters, Canteron rose from his favorite chair.
The warrior placed his hands on his hips, his fingers grazing the hilt of his dagger clipped alongside his belt. His gaze tracked over Saar’s injury, trailing the blemish from its beginning to end. The edge of his lip curled.
Saar stood straight, shoulders back, chin lifted. He wouldn’t show weakness, not in front of his father—King Nicholai’s Commander of Arms.
Canteron stepped into Saar’s personal space, their noses almost touching. “Show me your marking.”
Saar unbuttoned his shirt, taking his time with each knob, never breaking eye contact. He leaned forward, displaying the three jagged lines on his shoulder blade, the ones representing loyalty, honor, and courage.
Canteron’s jaw tightened. “As I suspected, all three faded.”
Heat raced up Saar’s chest and into his face, enflaming the cut. He tugged on his shirt, eager to hide the evidence of his embarrassment even if he could never hide the proof of his mistake.
His father gripped the hilt of his sword and sneered. “Noeh almost died because of you.”
“I saved him from the Gossum.” Saar spat the words before he could think better of it.
His father recoiled, his eyes widening.
The slap came fast, connecting with his cheek, adding a fresh sting to the wound. The sound reverberated off the stone walls. Blood welled in the re-opened cuts. Saar licked his lips, the coppery taste bitter on his tongue.
“He wouldn’t have been in danger in the first place if not for your selfishness and bad judgment. You should’ve returned to the Keep with the rest of your class, not out traipsing after the wildlife, dragging Noeh with you. Where does your loyalty lie? With the future king or yourself?” Spittle flew from Canteron’s mouth. His lip quivered with rage.
Saar met his gaze, his jaw tightening to the point of pain. “I am and will always be loyal to Noeh.”
His father smirked. “You don’t understand the meaning of the word.”
Saar stiffened. A resolve built in his chest. No matter what, he’d do everything in his power to prove his loyalty to his king.
His gaze drew to the mirror situated over his stark, barren dresser and to his reflection within the glass. The shimmery image distorted into a grotesque mask, a deep, jagged cut tracking from his cheek through his lip and over his chin.
Bile rose in his throat. I’m forever scarred. He couldn’t maintain eye contact with himself and dropped his gaze.
“Saar! Come here!” Canteron’s deep baritone filtered through the doorway.
Saar fisted his hand, unwilling to submit to his father’s beck and call, but he relented as any good, loyal son would. As he walked into the main living quarters, Canteron rose from his favorite chair.
The warrior placed his hands on his hips, his fingers grazing the hilt of his dagger clipped alongside his belt. His gaze tracked over Saar’s injury, trailing the blemish from its beginning to end. The edge of his lip curled.
Saar stood straight, shoulders back, chin lifted. He wouldn’t show weakness, not in front of his father—King Nicholai’s Commander of Arms.
Canteron stepped into Saar’s personal space, their noses almost touching. “Show me your marking.”
Saar unbuttoned his shirt, taking his time with each knob, never breaking eye contact. He leaned forward, displaying the three jagged lines on his shoulder blade, the ones representing loyalty, honor, and courage.
Canteron’s jaw tightened. “As I suspected, all three faded.”
Heat raced up Saar’s chest and into his face, enflaming the cut. He tugged on his shirt, eager to hide the evidence of his embarrassment even if he could never hide the proof of his mistake.
His father gripped the hilt of his sword and sneered. “Noeh almost died because of you.”
“I saved him from the Gossum.” Saar spat the words before he could think better of it.
His father recoiled, his eyes widening.
The slap came fast, connecting with his cheek, adding a fresh sting to the wound. The sound reverberated off the stone walls. Blood welled in the re-opened cuts. Saar licked his lips, the coppery taste bitter on his tongue.
“He wouldn’t have been in danger in the first place if not for your selfishness and bad judgment. You should’ve returned to the Keep with the rest of your class, not out traipsing after the wildlife, dragging Noeh with you. Where does your loyalty lie? With the future king or yourself?” Spittle flew from Canteron’s mouth. His lip quivered with rage.
Saar met his gaze, his jaw tightening to the point of pain. “I am and will always be loyal to Noeh.”
His father smirked. “You don’t understand the meaning of the word.”
Saar stiffened. A resolve built in his chest. No matter what, he’d do everything in his power to prove his loyalty to his king.