Page 84 of Bound By Flames
Between seeing my woman in high heels and barefoot at home, I gotta say I've never seen her in other types of shoes. My little Mia is wearing a simple black dress, her fiery hair suffocating in a tight as fuck bun, and she has almost no makeup on her face. Not that it bothers me; she could be wearing a potato sack, and she would still light my skin on fire.
I know her sister’s situation has been on her mind a lot, which would be the fucking same for me if anything was threatening Vanessa’s safety. I want to show her I can fix this for her, that we’re a team, and that I’ll fight and protect her until my last breath.
Careful. This is a slippery slope.
Mia’s been walking on a fine line lately, looking at me like a starved woman and glancing outside the window each time I pushed her too much. Hence why I haven’t tried anything more in the physical sense, despite burning for her. The proximity of her sinful curves in our bed almost makes me mad each time I have to keep my hands to myself, lying next to a goddess wearing the tiniest fucking pieces of fabric.
I thought I’d have to push her away and live my life on my own, but it turns out I want her more than breathing itself. My little tornado is harder to catch than any prey I had to chase. She’s smart, stubborn, and a walking contradiction. I know that I won’t win her heart. I’ll earn it. And it starts today by ensuring her sister's safety.
“Hi, welcome, welcome! The whole family is together. What a delight!” her mother greets us at the door of a large white colonial house with white moldings and lion statues in the entryway. Fancy, but it screams new money. She attempts to hug me, but I’m not into touching strangers, so I step back, givingher a stare that typically reduces folks into ashes and nods to her.
“Hi, Mom.” Mia steps in front of me and hugs her mom for a second, awkwardly putting her hands on her as if it were her first time doing this.
“Ares,” her father's voice echoes behind her mother, who's wearing a tight ponytail and a long black dress, displaying her thinness.
Thin.
Way too fucking thin to be healthy. Looks like a malnourished child. No fucking way my girl ends up like this one day.
“O’brian,” I say, keeping my cool in front of his stern face.
We’re not family.
Mia’s my family.
Him?
I could strangle him with my bare hands and not think twice about it.
He advances toward us, the entryway filled with paintings, moldings, and golden stuff to display wealth, only here it looks cheap. Tacky. As if they had tried too hard. I can’t help but smirk when I notice his lump from the electric drill I shove into his knees months ago when I discovered he was talking to Nero behind my back.
He clenches his jaw, hard, and lifts his hand toward me. We shake hands, both of us breaking each other's bones in a quick shake, representing all that we carry on our shoulders.
Cities, territories, hundreds of men.
All of that in one single shake.
I stay alert, which is what any predator should do in front of another one. Things have a way of getting down fucking fast when you don’t control yourself. Especially in our world.
“Mia! Gosh, I missed you so much!” shouts her little sister, barging from the stairs to the entryway, wearing a simple gray dress with her hair just as wild as my woman’s.
Red, curly, silky, wild, unwilling to obey.
Something in my gut tells me that if these are the genes of the O’brian sisters, then I hope one day we’ll get our own little girl with fiery hair and stubbornness running around in our home.
“I missed you so much, Kia,” Mia says, hugging her sister with strength and warmth, both of them closing their eyes at the touch. Kiara’s young, and she reminds me so much of Mia. In the way she speaks, in the way she moves. But there’s something different in her eyes, a goodness few people only carry on themselves past adulthood.
Innocence.
There.
Forgot about it ‘cause I’m not used to seeing it in my daily life.
My Mia, just like my men, lost this gleam a long time ago. That’s the mark of those who’s seen the real world and stopped dreaming about fucking happy endings and goodness in people. That’s the mark of what makes those of us stronger, harder to break.
She’ll learn. One day. But not today.
There’s no fucking way I’m letting Mia down by failing to protect her sister. She’d never forgive me.
