Black Lace (Complete)

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

Chapter Twenty-Three

"What's that, mama?"

Little Romina had walked into her mother's chambers late one afternoon, tired but not able to fall asleep. Her mother was sat on the ground, hands held to her chest, cradling something. Her eyes were teary, but she quickly wiped them away, shoving whatever she was holding back into her closet.

"Mama?" The little girl neared her mother, curious eyes trying to see into the closet. What could make her mother cry?

"Romina, it's late, darling. You should be asleep," her mother said, diverting her questions.

Little Romina frowned. "I can't sleep. What were you crying about, mama?"

"Nothing, sweet heart." Her mother offered her a weak smile.

Her tears were no ones but her own. She would not share her pain with her daughter. Her daughter had done nothing to deserve the pain or the life she was given. She was smart and deserved so much more.

So much that could not be given.

"I don't want you to cry," the girl said, nearing her mother. She sat herself down in her lap, content to be within her mother's arms. She shrank her little head into her mother's bosom, feeling so completely and utterly safe there. "If you cry, I cry. And you said I shouldn't cry."

The mother laughed gently. So beautiful, young and bright. What a hidden star her little Romina was. She burned as brightly and as fiercely as those among the stars, but her cages kept her from the night sky. Her chains.

Absentmindedly, the mother took her daughters small wrists into her hands, holding them out. The chains were invisible, but they were still there. That which you could not see posed threat. And that which you could see...

"You aren't supposed to see me cry, Romina," the mother admitted. And it was true. "There are some things that adults are supposed to keep from their children, and my pain is one of them."

The little girl frowned. "I don't want you to be sad, mama."

"Baby," the mother gently dropped the girl's wrists back into her lap, laying a soft kiss to her daughter's soft cheeks, "nobody wants anybody to be sad."

The little girl frowned. "What's in the closet, though?"

"It's a..." The mother trailed off, uncertain if she should tell her daughter or not.

"I won't tell anyone, mama." Little Romina giggled.

"It's a bracelet." The mother slid the doors of her closet aside, and she removed the small trinket from the ground. The familiar feel of metal met her palm, and when her daughter tried to grab it—as most kids' first reactions were, she retracted it. "It was my mother's."

"Can I see?"

The mother smiled. "Only if you don't touch." Little Romina nodded and she opened up her palm to see.

It was simple—too simple for something that held so much value. It was a simple plastic string with small metal beads lining it. It was rusted and old.

"Whoever painted it did a bad job," the little girl joked, pointing to the splotches of red on the beads.

"Painted?" The mother asked, confused. When her eyes honed in on the red dots, however, her stare darkened and her throat constricted. "That isn't paint...sweetie."

"What?" Little Romina asked.

"It's naturally like that," the mother lied. She tossed the bracelet back into the closet and picked her daughter up, trying to distract her from the topic. Though her throat felt tight and her eyes pricked with tears, she still carried her daughter all the way back to her room, cooing her sweet nothings all the way.

The bracelet was not painted. It was not naturally that way.

The mother could not tell her daughter the truth, because yes: sometimes the truth hurt more than it was worth.

The bracelet was her mother's. It was the last thing she had received from her mother before she was dragged away to her wedding at 16.

And it was red because it was blood.

"Try to avoid using your hand too much for the next 12 hours. The cuts should be sealed by then," the nurse instructed, packing up her safety kit. I nodded, staring down at the white bandage looped around my wrist. The nurse hadn't asked what had happened, and though it was quite obvious that the injury was sustained through method of nail, the nurse hadn't sent me any questioning looks.

"When should I come back to you for another dressing?" I asked before the nurse turned away and left me in the hall.

A tall figure rounded the corner of the hall, stalking closer to where the nurse and I were. Though I tried to pay attention to what the nurse was saying, and though I tried not to look his way, it was pointless.

All I could do was stare as Aziel walked towards us, eyes staring pointedly at the ground as if the world itself had done him harm.

"Alright?" The nurse confirmed.

"Uh, I—"

"She'll be fine, I'll deal with it." Aziel cut in, stepping up beside the nurse. Jumping slightly in place, the nurse's eyes dropped up and down his body, taking in his handsome frame. Her lips popped open to say something, but nothing came out. For some reason, when his eyes fell to the nurse's, and a knowing smile graced his lips, something burned deep down in my chest at the sight of them smiling at each other. Why? I didn't know.

"A-alright," the nurse said, bobbing her head. She ran away, leaving me alone with Aziel.

"I have to go—" I tried to say, but words lodged in my throat, distorting my words. As if the nurse had never even been there, his attention darted towards me. The intense fire behind his stare made my toes burn. My cheeks heated.

I tried to step aside and go to my room, but his hand grabbed my shoulder and pinned me against the wall. He lowered his face so his breath fanned along my skin. Shadows cast over his features, and though it darkened his eyes in a terrifying way, he still managed to look as attractive as ever.

"No, Romina. I said I would take care of you." His eyes fell to my bandaged hand and they darkened with a rage so intense even I felt scared. "Fuck, baby," he cursed, arm falling against the wall, supporting himself. His hand lifted my arm to bring my injured hand between us, "who hurt you?"

"I need to go, Aziel."

His stare hardened. "No. Stay."

"Please...Aziel," I pleaded. I may have been pleading for him to leave me alone, but truthfully, it was so much more. "Don't...just don't."

"You tell me to stay away. You tell me to stop." He grit his teeth and the muscles along his jawline tensed and flexed. "When are you going to realize that I'm not leaving, and when are you going to realize that I'm not going to stop?"

Everything leaves eventually.

I remained silent, staring back into his soulless eyes with as much pleading as I could muster.

"Fucking hell, I can't stay away, Romina." He pressed his hips forward, and the prominent bulge of his erection made goosebumps spread all along my arms. He slowly ground his hips against me, letting me feel the hardness of his arousal against my stomach. He released slow, low grunts with each thrust. My skin heated at his touch, his hold, his voice. "I need you. And..."

He lowered his mouth to my collar bone and spoke: "Something tells me you need me too."

(a/n: spent a full five minutes laughing over the word bottom, wbu)