Page 3 of Vipers & Roses

Smile Rae. Smile for the camera.

Fuck off.

This scene plays in my mind as I lie at the bottom of the Olympic pool, holding my breath and watching the competitive swimmers skim across the water over the top of me. It’s so quiet down here and blue. Everything is so blue. But with silence comes the noisiness of my reoccurring thoughts and the invasions of memories that hurt so bad I’ve come close to ending it all.

Maybe that’s what I’m doing now. If I open my mouth and let the water fill my lungs, it’ll be all over, and the nightmare will end.

But there is a speck of life within me, a fire that can never be extinguished and love for life that can never be destroyed. Focus on the little things. The glory of life is always in the little things.

Pressure in my lungs indicates that it’s time to make my decision. Stay or go? Live or die. A single decision can change your destiny and those of others around you.

Life or death.

The little things. Droning Bumblebees land on fragile petals, scooping up as much pollen as they can onto their legs. Sparrows feast on tiny mites invading an apple tree. Female mantises bite the heads off the males as they mate. Killing in the name of…life.

I choose life.

The female mantis type of life.

Just as my head is about to explode from holding my breath, I swim to the surface, poke my head above the blue, and gasp for air. Stupidly, I neglected to look before I ascended, and a swimmer, moving at an incredible pace, crashes head-first into me. Water fills my mouth as he hurls several heated insults in my direction before speeding off, splashing my face with a kick of his foot as a last-minute hit of anger.

Okay. Fair enough. I fucked up.

Waiting a few seconds until there’s a long stretch of space between us in the lane, I proceed to freestyle, my favorite stroke, to the end of the pool.

Whipping off my goggles, I rub them clean with the pool water before placing my hands on the poolside to climb out. A pair of large feet are close to the edge, and I glance up to find a towering inferno standing over me.

“What the fuck were you doing back there?” his seething words whirl about my ears and don’t quite sink in. I understand his message more by his tone rather than the words he’s using.

My eyes are blurry, so I rub them with the base of my palms before answering, “I’m sorry about that. I was being inconsiderate.”

“No kidding,” he fumes. Now I can see clearly, I follow his lower legs to the hem of a towel hanging just below his knees that’s wrapped around his waist, to a flat stomach shiny from water and a chest crushed by muscular angry arms folded across it. His scowling face is chiseled and smoothly shaven, and his short dark brown hair is shiny, wet, and swept back.

Lesson one. Don’t piss off competitive swimmers. I know this for a fact because I used to be one. But that was another time, and I was a different girl. These days, I prefer to celebrate the female mantis biting off her mate’s head.

“I’m sorry,” I repeat as he seems in no hurry to leave. Instead, those piercing eyes penetrate my skull. “It won’t happen again.”

“If you wanna fuck around, there’s a kids’ paddling pool down the road,” he points in the direction of the Torres Aquatic Center a few yards away, where the waterslide and various other fun water activities are. “This is an Olympic pool, and it’s for serious swimmers.”

“I understand,” I say calmly, wondering if he’s ever going to leave.

“What the hell were you doing down the bottom of the pool like that anyway?” he asks, tilting his head to the side to peer at me differently as if he spotted something intriguing on my face.

“Nothing. Like you said, I was mucking around,” I answer. Will he ever leave so I can get out of the pool?

He grunts in dissatisfaction at my answer. “I could’ve killed you,” his voice is severe and hits me hard in my gut. He’s exaggerating because the most damage he could’ve done was break my nose or accidentally drown me. Okay, he’s right. That giant body of solid rock could’ve killed me.

“Fine,” I snap at him because now he’s pissing me off. I already apologized twice, and I’m not going to apologize again. “You can leave now.”

That giant, fit body hesitated before walking away from me toward a group of swimmers wrapped in towels who had been watching him the entire time.

“Big, tough guy,” I say under my breath as I spring up onto the side of the pool and climb out. My towel and bag are resting on a bench by the locker rooms, and as I walk to them, I peel my swimming cap off, and my long golden ponytail unravels down my back.

Clutching my towel against my chest, I take a precarious look around the area, searching for The Lion. I know he’s here. That unmistakable arrogance, soulless eyes, and those fucking unsightly shorts he always wears. I know he still coaches the highest league of swimming here at Keele University, so I’d expect him to be nearby, watching over his flock.

Damn, I can’t see him. Then, a shiver invades the base of my spine when I glance at the viewing box sealed behind darkened glass, where the officials sit on competition day to get a bird’s eye view of the pool.

Three figures are standing there, but I can’t tell if any of them are him. But my sharp, innate instincts know he’s here, somewhere. Whether he’s spotted me or not is a different story. Not that he’d care even if he does see me because all the power is in his hands, so he believes. He knows I won’t squeal, and he is right. I haven’t told a soul what he and the other three did. People know I was hurt really bad, but I stated that I didn’t see who did it because they threatened to destroy my family. In the end, I was the one who was sacrificed for their pleasure and to protect my family. I can’t let them get away with it.

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