Nila #2
ArchTextile: Nila, I know you’ll have questions.
I know you’ll hate me. But please, my wonderful girl, know I didn’t want any of this.
I was stupid not to heed your mother’s warning.
I thought—well, it doesn’t matter what I thought.
I hope we can talk—when you’re ready. I understand if you can never forgive me.
I don’t know how much of this they’ll see, but I’ll never stop searching, never stop hoping.
Please don’t think I gave you up lightly.
They have...ways. They have you but they’ll keep you in good health. We have time. Love you, sweetheart.
I didn’t want to focus on what time meant. The slow plod of time intertwined with the fast tick, tick, ticking of my final heartbeats.
My fingers hovered on the reply button. But I couldn’t. Not yet.
Instead, I opened my brother’s messages.
VtheMan: Threads, pick up your goddamn phone.
VtheMan: Threads. I’m warning you. You’re not happy. I sense it. I’m worried shitless and Tex is being a secretive arsehole. Call me immediately, sister. Or I’ll make your life a living hell.
VtheMan: Please, Nila. Talk to me. Put me out of my misery. I miss you. Love you so fucking much.
My teary gasp in the darkness pricked a few hounds’ ears. I’d wanted so much to reply. But I didn’t dare. I didn’t trust myself not to beg him to get me out of this. I was there of my own free will to protect him. I wouldn’t be protecting him if I was weak.
I wanted hard facts on why the Hawks’ could do this. And I wouldn’t stop until I knew everything.
Closing my messages, I opened up a picture of Vaughn and me that’d been taken right before the doors opened to the show last night. The tiny bit of strength I had left deserted me and I let go of my tight control.
I sobbed.
My heart expunged its grief through my eyes, drenching my cheeks, blurring the last photo I had of my brother . I cried until dehydration throbbed my head and my neck was sticky with salt.
A low battery reminder beeped. It was the hardest thing I’d done to shut down the picture of V and turn it off.
More tears trickled and a hound raised his head, looking at me with wise understanding. He inched forward on his belly, crossing the hay until his claws tugged at my blanket.
His canine concern produced another torrent, but I opened my arms, and with a wagging tail, he fitted himself around me like a living shield. His doggy heart thudded against mine as I hugged his silky coat.
I went from the Darling of Milan with needle pricks on her fingers to huddled on the floor with only hunting dogs for company.
A soppy tongue had licked my cheek, stealing the endless stream. And that was when it happened. The change I’d told Kite about. The ending. The beginning. The freedom of just letting go.
All my life, I’d been stressed with making a name for myself, building my career, loving my brother, being a worthy daughter. Bills. Deadlines. Reputations. Expectations. It all balanced precariously on my shoulders, moulding me into a quiet workaholic.
But at four a.m., in the kennels of the man who meant to kill me, I let it all go.
I said goodbye to control. I waved farewell to everything that made me live, but had also suffocated me, too. I didn’t have photo shoots to worry about anymore. I didn’t have concerns on what to wear, where to be, how to act.
All of that had been stolen. And there was no point crying or fighting against it.
The moment I embraced the freedom of nothing, I stopped crying. My headache left, and I drifted to sleep wrapped in the four legs of my new best friend.
Squirrel nudged my hand, bringing me back to the present and the waiting message from Kite. The past struggled to let me go, but I blinked, dispelling my forlornness.
“He wants to know where I am. What should I tell him?” I asked my entourage of hounds.
Foxhounds to be exact. Their black, tan, and white coats became visible as the sun rose, glinting off their glossy fur. Their silky ears slapped their pretty heads as they lopped around the enclosure, waking up as the sun grew brighter.
They didn’t give me an answer.
Needle my mind playing out the fantasy in crystal detail. The warmth I’d been looking for spread from my core like a tentative sunrise.
Kite007: Fuck me, woman. Why haven’t you been talking to me like that all along? What was with the shy bullshit? Keep going. I’m so damn hard. I want your mouth so fucking much.
My skin broke out in goosebumps. The power. The approval. Kite was a wanker, an arsehole, and a complete shallow prick, but he approved of me. He wanted me.
Needle&Thread: You’re holding your cock while I lick you once at the very tip. You want me to swallow you, but you don’t force me. Because you know I’m going to swallow every drop.
Kite007: Did you taste it?
I frowned.
Needle&Thread: Taste what?
Kite007: My precum. Fuck, I’m so close. I’m in your mouth. I’m fucking your lips. I’m holding your hair as I drive so deep down your throat. What do I taste like to you?
Needle&Thread: You taste...
“Hell, I don’t know.” Looking at the cluster of dogs, all watching me as if they knew what I was up to, I swiped a hand over my face. “What the hell does a man taste like?”
Needle&Thread: You taste of expensive liquor, making me drunk as you come. Spilling over my lips, dripping down my chin. You don’t want me wasting a drop, so you capture the liquid on your thumb and push it back into my mouth.
The instant I sent it, a chill darted in my blood.
Thumb. Mouths. Sucking.
Him.