Page 46 of Bound By Flames
“It’s not about that,” she whispers with the sound of thick tears echoing in her throat.
“Then what is it about?” She lifts her face to me, looking so fucking small all of a sudden, and what I see isn’t my witty, confident wife. What I see in the deep brown of her pupils is a little Mia. Terrified of something.
“I–I can’t say it out loud,” she murmurs, the wind surrounding us and the moonlight shining on her face like a damn piece of jewelry.
“Yeah, you can.” Cupping her cheek, I hope to give her enough courage to open up.
“You’ll make fun of me.”
“I won’t, I promise.” I lock my gaze into hers, wanting her to know it’s safe. I won’t make fun of her, even though it fucking pains me to hear her think I’d do such a thing. Fuck her parents for neglecting her and making her feel less for being vulnerable. Fuck them.
“I thought, I thought it'd be easier—” she begins.
And it takes everything in me not to step away from her as her words cut my soul with a thousand swords. So she does hate being my wife. Living here. With me. She hates it.
“I thought it’d be easier to hate you,” she says, taking my breath away as I exhale from the relief she just gave me.
She doesn’t hate me.
She fucking doesn’t.
“The house, the people, you.” She looks over my shoulder behind me. “It’s a lot.”
I can’t tell if she’s saying it in a positive way. What could possibly be too much for her? She owns every single atom of every room she enters. I frown, not getting where she’s going with it.
“Maria is nice to me. Larry is getting used to my food habits.” A slight smile tugs at the corner of her lips. “Yoursister was inviting, and you, well, you turned out better than I thought.”
“And that's a bad thing?” Hope swells in my chest.
“No, yes… I don’t know.”
“Well, you tell me, princess. I’m not the one running away in the middle of the night.”
“I’m not used to…” a trembling exhale escapes her lips, “to people taking care of me.” She swallows hard as I stroke her back, my large hand warming up her cold body.
Why did it take me so long to find her? I could have married her years ago. I could have made everything better then. She wouldn’t have had to live this way. Why did no one see how she truly felt?
“You won’t ever have to worry ‘bout it here, Mia,” I say calmly, fighting the anger pulsing in my veins. “Whatever you need, I’ll give it to ya.” Holding her tight against me, I notice how she shivers. We need to get inside before she gets sick. The wind is strong, and she just ran for her life, so her adrenaline is slowing down. No wonder my girl’s overwhelmed.
“You’re just saying that because you need me to stay to get back at my father,” she murmurs, and I hear, despite the wind, her voice flinching as she says it.
“Nah, princess. That was before.” I shake my head, mesmerized by the sight of her.
“Before what?”
“Before this.” I stroke her cheek slowly, as delicately as my rough palms allow it, hoping she’ll get it. That this is the softest I’ll ever go for someone, that this is a part of me, no one else will ever get a glimpse of. My eyes lock onto hers as I lower myself for our foreheads to meet.
I’ve never done that. Women were always either terrified of me or throwing themselves at me in hopes of protection,favors, or a way out. It has always been about flesh, nothing more.
But right here, right now, it feels like a wave towering over us, threatening me with a four-letter word that could crash my black heart forever. The urge to kiss her takes over me until I'm no longer a man but pure want and desire for the woman I’m holding in my arms.
“Mia.” Our mouths are so close I can inhale the air she breathes out.
“I’m not right for you, Ares,” she whispers.
Why would she ever doubt that? Then again, I’m slowly learning that my wife isn’t what I thought she was. That under the red lipstick and bright, sexy clothes is a little Mia that has never been cared for.
Her words sink into me as I realize that she’s maybe right, but not in the sense she thinks. I’m not right for her either. I’m a borderline psychopath, criminal, jerk with little to no limits when it comes to protecting my cities and the few folks I care about. I’m known to be twisted, to have no moral compass when it comes to torture and dealing with my enemies. So she’s right. She’s too good for me. She’s the sun and the moon and all the fucking stars wrapped up in one single person, and I’m just a man, with a dark soul and a barely functioning heart. The old thing is so rusty, I can hear it creak from how long it wasn’t used.
