Page 42
Story: Little Nightmare
He cursed and looked down. “I want you on my terms, that’s all.”
“Do mine count?”
He kissed my forehead. “Always.”
A day later he’d ripped my clothes from my body, confessed his love and inability to wait, which had been both romantic and a bit out of character—and we slept together.
It was the first time.
It wouldn’t be our last.
It seemed like every day he couldn’t get enough of me, and when I teased him that I’d unleashed a beast, I’ll never forget the look in his eyes as if to say“you have no idea.”
It was the only time in our interactions that I actually hesitated and wondered if I knew exactly what I was getting into.
The next day he was killed.
The next day I lost my chance to ask him.
I cleared my throat and tried to use my voice to cut through the silence. “Happy early birthday, Dad.”
He grunted, his eyes still trained on Ace. “Told you not to touch her, you swore an oath in blood.”
Ace leveled him with a matching glare. “And I’ll pay in my own blood, in my skin, prove that I’m loyal to you. But know this.” He leaned forward, his forearms flexing against his knees. “She comes first, she always will, so if I have to take a bullet and it’s between the two of you—sorry, but you’ll see the pearly gates first.”
Dad cracked a smile. “It’s not that easy to get rid of me.”
"I’m sure there are very creative ways. You just haven’t used your imagination enough,” Ace quipped.
Dad didn’t set the gun down but finally gave me his attention, not that I was comfortable with it in his current deliriously pissed state. “Raven, do you know why we call it a pound of flesh or where that saying came from?”
I swallow hard and mutter, “Shakespeare.”
"Yes, from the Merchant of Venice. You see, Shylock, a debt collector, required payment a merchant wasn’t able to give, which tells us one thing. One should never gamble what one is not willing to lose.” He licked his lips, his stare intense. “What if you come up short? After all, asking for a pound of flesh from Ace here is what he owes me for daring to touch you. A simple touch means I weigh it out. Gold for gold. And the rest of his payment? His life. Not only will he marry into the family and protect you until his dying day—he’ll owe us an alliance with the De Lange blood line. It benefits him as much as us, which makes me wonder the last question. Did you…” He turns his attention back to Ace. “Did you gamble with your life in order to enter into the fold?”
Ace didn’t flinch. “No, because in every scenario I can think of, there would never be one where I could seduce your daughter without her knowing exactly what was happening, without having her consent. If anything, it’s impossible not to drown in her, not the other way around. I pity the arrogant fool who thinks otherwise. If anything, I’m trapped, not the other way around.”
I smiled down at my hands.
It was nice.
Him defending me.
Not just in front of my father but saving my pride in front of my father at the same time.
I owed him.
And I was calm. I wasn’t upset about having to marry him. I already lost the love of my life and told myself it would be impossible to replace him—so why not get married? Why couldn’t this be my journey? Everyone in my family had a path—this could be mine.
Marrying the man with the scars.
Marrying the man who hated food touching other food.
Marrying the man who loathed noise.
Marrying the man covered in knife wounds from his ex-lover so that every time he looked in the mirror all he saw were memories of her and a love he’d never have again.
We were the same, in different ways though.
“Do mine count?”
He kissed my forehead. “Always.”
A day later he’d ripped my clothes from my body, confessed his love and inability to wait, which had been both romantic and a bit out of character—and we slept together.
It was the first time.
It wouldn’t be our last.
It seemed like every day he couldn’t get enough of me, and when I teased him that I’d unleashed a beast, I’ll never forget the look in his eyes as if to say“you have no idea.”
It was the only time in our interactions that I actually hesitated and wondered if I knew exactly what I was getting into.
The next day he was killed.
The next day I lost my chance to ask him.
I cleared my throat and tried to use my voice to cut through the silence. “Happy early birthday, Dad.”
He grunted, his eyes still trained on Ace. “Told you not to touch her, you swore an oath in blood.”
Ace leveled him with a matching glare. “And I’ll pay in my own blood, in my skin, prove that I’m loyal to you. But know this.” He leaned forward, his forearms flexing against his knees. “She comes first, she always will, so if I have to take a bullet and it’s between the two of you—sorry, but you’ll see the pearly gates first.”
Dad cracked a smile. “It’s not that easy to get rid of me.”
"I’m sure there are very creative ways. You just haven’t used your imagination enough,” Ace quipped.
Dad didn’t set the gun down but finally gave me his attention, not that I was comfortable with it in his current deliriously pissed state. “Raven, do you know why we call it a pound of flesh or where that saying came from?”
I swallow hard and mutter, “Shakespeare.”
"Yes, from the Merchant of Venice. You see, Shylock, a debt collector, required payment a merchant wasn’t able to give, which tells us one thing. One should never gamble what one is not willing to lose.” He licked his lips, his stare intense. “What if you come up short? After all, asking for a pound of flesh from Ace here is what he owes me for daring to touch you. A simple touch means I weigh it out. Gold for gold. And the rest of his payment? His life. Not only will he marry into the family and protect you until his dying day—he’ll owe us an alliance with the De Lange blood line. It benefits him as much as us, which makes me wonder the last question. Did you…” He turns his attention back to Ace. “Did you gamble with your life in order to enter into the fold?”
Ace didn’t flinch. “No, because in every scenario I can think of, there would never be one where I could seduce your daughter without her knowing exactly what was happening, without having her consent. If anything, it’s impossible not to drown in her, not the other way around. I pity the arrogant fool who thinks otherwise. If anything, I’m trapped, not the other way around.”
I smiled down at my hands.
It was nice.
Him defending me.
Not just in front of my father but saving my pride in front of my father at the same time.
I owed him.
And I was calm. I wasn’t upset about having to marry him. I already lost the love of my life and told myself it would be impossible to replace him—so why not get married? Why couldn’t this be my journey? Everyone in my family had a path—this could be mine.
Marrying the man with the scars.
Marrying the man who hated food touching other food.
Marrying the man who loathed noise.
Marrying the man covered in knife wounds from his ex-lover so that every time he looked in the mirror all he saw were memories of her and a love he’d never have again.
We were the same, in different ways though.
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