Chapter Eight #2
“Yes. Lace is in the back. She’s meeting us when she’s done. If you have any problems, give us a call.” I grab Rome's wrist, getting annoyed with Sandy’s inspection of him.
“I can’t imagine any issues within a couple of hours,” she says, watching me pull Rome to the door.
“We are always available, just in case,” I say, opening the door. “See you.”
“Sandy seems nice,” Rome drawls.
“Shut it,” I mutter, closing the door behind us.
“We’re going to be early,” he says.
“I don’t care,” I grit out.
“Jealous?” he whispers, pulling me close.
“Not at all,” I state firmly. This is going to get old. It seems I don’t like him around any females except family.
“I like it,” he says, guiding me to the car and opening the passenger-side door. I don’t reply, and he laughs as I drop into the seat.
“What’s funny?” Archer asks from the backseat.
“Nothing,” I snap, and he chuckles.
“Sandy was looking a bit flushed,” he says, and I glare over the seat.
“Don’t make me hurt you,” I threaten, and Rome sits in the driver’s seat. “I’ll freeze you so you can’t eat.” He presses his palm to his stomach.
“That would be cruel,” he pouts.
“Then be good.” I turn to face forward, and Rome grabs my hand. He slides off my gloves, dropping them beside me, and I shiver.
“My Mara,” he whispers and kisses my fingers. “Your reaction is tame compared to how mine was and will continue to be.” He drops our joined hands to his leg and starts the car. I glance in the back, and Archer tilts his head, knowing he is right.
Turning, I stare at our joined hands as he leaves the parking spot.
I’ll never think about touching the same way again.
I have feared it, yet wished for it. Rome does it casually, not knowing how it affects me.
I’m surprised at how easily he moves and slides into my life as if it’s where he belongs.
I think he does. Belong with me. I’ve let him guide me.
I haven’t felt this safe since Mom was alive.
I loved staying up late, talking to her, and learning from her.
She was my guide. Her life was cut short, and mine stopped.
I was going through the motions, taking care of Lace, keeping our power secret, and trying to survive the best we could.
There were no more late nights, and Lace hasn’t felt the joy we once had.
I feel guilty. Our world went on, but I didn’t do anything to help her laugh.
Gavin’s comment hit me hard. I don’t remember the last time I laughed carefree.
Rome brought a lightness to our lives. I don’t think he realizes what he has done.
It’s effortless. He holds my hand to his thigh, and I wonder if he knows what the act does to my body, my heart.
Giving him the burdens I carry every day is tempting.
He’s strong, and I know he would take them easily, but will he once he knows what I’ve done?
We don’t know much about each other. Will my actions change the way he sees me?
Before we complete our bond, he needs to know everything.
I get nauseous thinking about telling him.
Helping to kill Jerry was easier than explaining my past. I haven’t thought much about taking the life of a man.
I guess I don’t feel guilty about it. Maybe I should use my magic to dispense justice.
First, I need to figure out how to control it.
Depending on Rome to take the emotions is nice, but I don’t want to need him every second while out in the world.
Although I love his touch, we can’t be glued to each other.
My spells are developing different aspects, and I didn’t think that would be an effect the bond would have.
My mom explained what a bond was, and that they would complete your soul.
She died before she could expand on how to deal with it.
She didn’t think I was ready at that age.
Fuck, I miss her. She would love Rome. I can imagine her rushing around the house, making sure everything was perfect before he came to meet her.
There would be food and drinks. Magic would be discussed at length.
Mom was gentle and loving. I wish Rome could meet her and feel her kind spirit.
“Mara.” I blink and look up. “We’re here.” I see the restaurant in front of us. “Are you alright?”
“Just thinking.” I unbuckle my seatbelt.
“Good things?” he asks. Archer is already on the sidewalk, staring at his phone.
“I wish you could have met my mom,” I whisper, looking at him.
“I do too.” He squeezes my hand. “Are you ready for this? I shouldn’t have rushed you. My family can push until they get their way. I guess I’m a bit that way, too.”
“I’m good. They want to spend time with us. I want to get to know them,” I say.
“If you want to leave, we can,” he insists.
“Don’t worry.” I open my door and get out. Rome jogs around the car and reclaims my hand. Archer smiles.
“They came early and have a table in the back,” he informs us.
Archer opens the door for us, and we enter the busy space.
A dozen tables are steps from the door. A bar is along the right, and the barstools are full.
There are booths on the back wall. The noise is overwhelming, as are the bodies walking through the tables delivering food.
I press closer to Rome, his hand in mine a lifeline.
Archer informs the server of the name of our party, and we follow her to the back.
Fortunately, three bigger tables are in the far corner, spaced out and more private. Rome's family stands when they see us.
“Didn’t I tell you, Arthur?” Margarete whispers, nudging her husband.
“You did,” he replies, smiling.
“Dad.” Rome embraces his father with one arm.
“My boy,” Arthur says, pounding his back. His dad is the same height as Rome. His hair is a darker blonde. His energy is bright, and he shows his love easily.
“This is my Mara,” Rome says, pulling away.
“So good to meet you,” Arthur says, but he doesn’t try to touch me.
“You too.” I smile and nod.
“Archer, are you keeping him in line?” Arthur asks, hugging him.
“As much as possible,” Archer says dryly.
“Mara, this is my uncle Mavin.”
“Dear, it's so good to see you,” Mavin says, his eyes sparkling. He is shorter and slimmer than the other men. His black hair is styled, and his clothes are pressed.
“Hello.” He must have also been warned about my touch.
“Sit, sit,” Adeline says. Rome pulls my chair out, and I sit gratefully. He positions me with my back against the wall and takes the chair beside mine. His parents are across the table, and his aunt and uncle are to our left. Archer sits to our right.
“This is wonderful,” Margarete says, placing her napkin on her lap. She’s about to go on when the waitress stops at the table. We order drinks, and she passes out menus.
“How long are you staying?” Rome asks.
“Son, are you trying to get rid of us?” Arthur asks, smirking.
“How could you tell?” Rome cups my hand and settles it on my knee.
“Shit, I told her that we should stay away.” He shakes his head and looks at Margarete fondly. “You know how she is.”
“Is it wrong to want to welcome Mara into the family?” Margarete asks, and my breath stops. “She is my daughter-in-law, and she needs to know we are glad Rome found her.”
“I found her,” Archer says.
“Yes, Archer, good job,” Adeline says, winking.
“You need the credit,” Rome mumbles.
“Yes.” Archer grins slyly.
“I don’t want Rome to mess it up,” Margarete whispers to Arthur.
“Fuck, Mom,” Rome sighs.
“Woman, he’s my son. He’s not going to fuck it up.” Arthur glares.
“He’s been known to,” Adeline mutters.
“Addy,” Mavin hisses.
“He has,” she responds, patting him on the arm. She turns to Rome and tilts her head. “Remember the redhead? She was super nice, and you messed that up. We knew she wasn’t your soul bond, but you could have treated her better.”
“Or the blond,” Margarete says, leaning toward her. “She had the prettiest eyes. He had no game with her.” Adeline nods.
“Are you done?” Rome grits out. “Why are you bringing them up?”
“Son—”
“You’re going to piss me off,” Rome says.
“Rome,” I say, rubbing his arm. “They don’t mean anything by it.
” His jaw clenches, but slowly relaxes as I continue to caress.
I turn my attention to his family. “Thank you for caring enough to come. I can see the love between you, and I respect your intentions. Please don’t talk about the women in his past. If it’s something Rome wants to share with me, we won’t be doing it in front of his family.
Plus, I don’t like thinking about anyone being with him but me.
The only family I have now is my sister, so it’s nice to be among family who love Rome so much.
And maybe, the reason those women didn’t work out was because they weren’t me.
” Rome stares at me, his gaze burning. Everyone is silent, their attention bouncing between us.
“I think I’m going to cry,” Margarete says softly. Rome briefly covers his face with both hands before running them through his hair.
The waitress interrupts as she brings a tray of glasses. I lower my eyes. She delivers the drinks, placing down Rome's and then mine. As she pauses between us and drops her tray, it catches on my napkin. It falls to the floor, and I reach for it.
She reaches for it too. My fingertips brush her hand as we both grasp the fabric. It happens so fast, I don’t have time to prepare or warn Rome. Her life flashes through her to me, and I am gutted.
She had a stepfather. I close my eyes as my vision is flooded with all the things he did to her.
It started when she was twelve and continued until she ran away at eighteen.
I see his face, and the evil in his eyes is paralyzing.
She felt helpless. Her mother didn’t believe her.
She told a friend at school, and the friend thought she was making it up because she was upset that her mother had remarried.
I see her crying in her bedroom every night, before and after he would come in. She thought it was her fault.
“Mara.” I hear Rome but can’t respond.
“Is she okay?” The waitress releases the napkin, but it’s too late; the memories are flooding through me.
“We need to go,” Rome says, sliding his arms underneath me.
“Archer, drive us. Mom, wait for Lace. I’m taking her home.
Mara, let me have them.” I feel his healing touch, but the woman's memories are too painful, too fresh to ease the images.
He lifts me, and I drop my head to his shoulder.
He pushes through the restaurant. Later, I will worry about how it looks.
He beat her severely when she fought. She thought it was easier to give in, and I feel her guilt and confusion.
Was it her fault? Did she give him signs?
I feel sick at her misery. She tried to run away many times, but he always found her.
He brought her back to the house of hell, and she thought she must deserve it.
Her mom was in love. He treated her well and supported her and the daughter who wasn’t his.
When her daughter admitted what he was doing, her mom slapped her.
The sting of it is as if it happened to me.
“Baby, I’m here. Come back to me.” The car is moving and I’m on his lap in the back seat, but I’m lost.
She was humiliated. Over and over. Used in the most horrible way.
When she turned nineteen, he found her. He comes into the restaurant and watches her.
He threatened her to keep her quiet. She just wants to forget his hands.
Whether balled into fists or touching her, she needs to forget. Her nightmares are filled with him.
I have to kill him. Kill the man in her dreams.
Hopefully this time, my magic won’t overpower me.