Page 61 of Bound By Flames
Iris would have laughed at my face, called me a sissy for taking so long to knock out the guy. But Mia couldn’t stand watching me get hurt, and still, she stayed. She supported me, standing by my side.
The bandages fall on the floor. “I gotta take a shower, then we can rub alcohol where it’s needed.” I turn and step into the shower, the water burning my flesh as I enter it, still wearing my black shorts. I keep them on, letting her questioning gaze fade ‘cause there’s no way I’m taking us into uncharted territory when we’re barely swimming above water.
I rest my back on the shower wall, watching her in her red dress and black heels, her long hair curling back into its natural shape as the steam covers them. She’d put on more makeup tonight, and even though she’s the prettiest creature I’ve ever seen, I’d still prefer her face bare. It makes it easier to see her blush.
My wife is the most beautiful woman I ever got to lay my eyes on. And if I play my cards right and don’t let my past fuck it all up, I may keep her forever.
“Come here.” I lift my hand for her to join me.
“Ares, the water—”
“Who cares? I have clean shirts in the office.” She bites her lip, her chest heaving as she looks at me with something hot burning inside her deep brown eyes. Pulling her feet up, she removes her heels one by one and then steps inside the shower, the water dripping over her dress and hair, creating darker shades of red all over her and turning her into a masterpiece as Venus herself comes out of the water.
“Stunning,” I murmur, our fingers naturally interlacing. She’s close, so fucking close I could grab her and give her a bruising kiss. But I don’t because I’m treading on thin ice right now.
I know it.
She knows it.
And yet, here we fucking are, after months of marriage, after watching each other break in front of the other, we’re still here, together, standing in my office shower and fully aware that we’re about to head to a point of no return. She lifts her hands and, with her index, traces the contour of my tattoos on my chest and shoulders. Her touch ignites a fire in me, spreading into each cell and bone of my broken body.
“I-I’m scared,” she whispers with trembling lips.
I sigh deeply. I’ve never admitted to anyone being scared of anything. Can’t do that when you’re the head of one of the biggest Motorcycle Club in the country. You gotta be tough and strong to inspire your men and have enough guts to lead.
Weakness can’t exist in my world. And yet, she has become the biggest of all. My weakness. My Achilles' heel. Theone person that can bring me to my knees. The only one I know I can’t bear to lose or be taken away from me.
I let out a breath; the steam swirls around us, but it’s not the heat of the water that’s making my heart race—it’s her. The way she looks at me, so vulnerable, so terrified and yet with a hint of something warm, something foreign I never got to experience. I’m scared too, is what I want to tell her. But the words catch in my throat, the words too dangerous to let loose. Old habits getting back to me. I’m the one who’s supposed to have it all together, to never let anyone see me flinch, but with her, that armor always feels too thin.
“You don’t have to be scared,” I say, my voice rough, low, trying to convince her, trying to convince myself. “Not of this. Not of us.”
“It’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one standing at the edge of a cliff,” she murmurs with a sad smile, her voice breathy, light, as if she was talking to herself. If only she knew how much danger she’s putting me in. That I’m right there with her, about to jump on the precipice, holding her hand and not knowing if I’ll ever get up after the fall.
“Don’t fight it, Mia,” I murmur, pulling her close as the blood fades in the water, her dress sticking dangerously to her stunning body, every curve looking more plumped as the water falls on the fabric. I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to stay fucking focused and ignore the goddess standing before me.
“We’re too different—” Her words are going against her body pulling closer to mine, almost skin to skin, the thin fabric of her dress as the only barrier between us.
“Give us time, Mia. Give us a shot,” I plead, begging a woman for the first time in my life. Cupping her face with my bleeding hand, my thumb brushes against her trembling lips. She leans into my touch, the points of our noses touching, herlips a breath away from me. It’s just us, standing on the edge of something neither of us can take back.
“You think you like me,” she shakes her head, “but I’m just a pretty package, Ares. The inside is empty, rotten, like a disease no one wants to touch.” Tears fall from her eyes. “You’ll see it one day when you get tired of my episodes, when you’ll finally see that I’m just a stupid girl who can’t even eat out like a normal person.”
My black, rusty, barely working heart aches for her. Her words stab through me, and I can see the pain she’s trying to bury beneath that sad smile. She’s carrying this weight, thinking she’s not enough, that her struggles make her less. But I know better. I know that what she’s facing is a war with herself that she has to fight in silence every fucking meal of her life.
I know her battles.
I’ve seen her fight them for months now.
And I’m ready to fight it with her every fucking step of the way.
I clench my jaw, thinking about her neglectful parents and all the shit they’ve put her through to make her think she’s not enough, that her battles make her less. Only now I’m standing by her side, whether she knows it or not, Mia sears into my skin, lighting fires I’ve tried to keep buried for too long.
Iris played me, fooled me into thinking I could become a father to a loveless woman, and made me think that’s how I’d be fulfilled. But I was wrong, so fucking wrong I could laugh out loud if it wasn’t for the tears of my girl in my arms right now. I thought I had it all, but I had nothing until I met Mia.
I hold her face gently, my thumb brushing away the tears that streak her cheeks. Her words hang in the air, bitter and sharp, cutting into the space between us. It hurts to see her like this, to hear her talk about herself like she’s broken, like she’s not worth fighting for.
She’s worth every fight.
She’s the fight that ends all fights.
