Page 97 of Bound By Flames
“You wanted to see if I had the guts to choose you, Mia. All along, I couldn't put my finger on it. Why my wife wanted so badly to run away when she seemed so content in our home?” He shakes his head. “I was too fucking blind to see.”
“To see what…?” My heart pulses under my ribs, threatening to jump out of my chest and land on the ground between us.
“All your life, you thought you had to live up to the expectations of others, and it took me months to understand that you don't want someone who just wanna be with you, princess. You need someone who's willing to chase you when you run. To catch you when you fall. To love you even when you don't love yourself.”
His words were burning me with the most intoxicating fire I had ever touched.
He saw me.
He really saw me behind the smiles, the confident facade.
“So run, Mia, run as fast as you can, deep into the forest,” he points with his gloves before removing them slowly, “and watch me catch you. Watch me earn your heart.”
“Ares…”
Was it for real? Did he really want me, all of me? Even the disgusting part, the eating disorder, the abandonment issues, the fear of rejection… Even all of them?
“Now, Mia,” he commands me.
I was right. Something monumental was about to happen, and it had nothing to do with the club launching an operation on whatever enemies they were fighting.
It was about us.
About his ultimate gesture to show me that he was in it for the long run.
That he was willing to say the words I needed to hear so badly to finally let go.
Glancing at the forest on my right, the dark leafy green swallowing the moonlight, the wind slapping my face and making my breath as clear as snow, I gasped and ran to the darkness.
Only this time, I wasn’t running to escape.
I was running to get caught.
Chapter 22
Ares
My little tornado had once more proven to me that we were made of the same spirit. Her toned legs ran toward the forest with her tiny pink shorts and top, her long fiery hair moving wildly against the element.
I knew I was a twisted man, things always had to go a different road with me. And it turns out I had found my match, a woman as untamed and wild as me, not backing down from a run into the woods under pouring rain if the prize was our final destination.
I didn’t even acknowledge my men all guarding the house, one every fifty meters, hands on their rifles, looking away. My house, my rules, and my fucking woman. Deep into the forest, we would be hidden from everyone.
I gave her a minute, just enough so she could let the adrenaline pulse through her veins, become euphoric with the thrill of knowing I was behind her, ready to grab her and link my soul forever to hers. So when her fiery hair disappeared from sight, I removed my cut and ran to the forest, not caring about how loud my footsteps were. I wanted her to hear me come for her.
I wanted her to know that I would always chase her, that she would never have to be afraid of being unwanted ever again. That this place was her house and my heart her home. And I fucking hoped that in every step bringing us closer, I fucking hoped she knew that she was it for me. That no other woman could ever fill the void she had created in my chest and that onlyshe could fill. That her laugh was my oxygen and her smiles, my religion.
So, ran, I fucking did.
Until I could no longer see the light from the porch of the cabin. Until the mud covered my boots and the rain soaked my shirt, the fabric becoming one with my skin. I ran until I saw the bouncing of creamy flesh behind the branches, her breath getting louder as I was reaching toward her.
Her legs were moving fast despite running barefoot in the dirt, and I knew I would then bring her home and wash her myself, caring for every wound she could ever have, inside and out.
The silhouette of my breathtaking wife appeared fully in my sight, the predator in me roaring in my chest as I lunged for her and caught her waist with one arm, lifting her legs off the ground, her back pressed on me.
“Mia.” I inhale her hair, her cinnamon scent clutching my heart like a vice.
“Ares,” she says, out of breath, her little hand covering the one I had laid on her stomach, possessively holding what would be forever mine to cherish and protect.
