Page 40 of Bound By Flames

Chapter 11

Mia

Don’t open.

Don’t open.

Don’t open.

Otherwise, I know I’m going to get sucked in by his emerald eyes and hypnotizing jaw. He was flirting with Carolina downstairs, and if I didn’t stumble, they would literally have DONE IT here. In my house!

We’re calling this “my house” now?

I bite my lips at the appalling truth standing before me. Yes, this is my house now. I’ve got my stuff here, my habits, people who know my food preferences, security, and, well, a husband who despite being a gigantic schmuck is also kind of my new safe place so…

Yes, this is my house now.

“Mia, princess, open the door.” Ares says, his low voice echoing behind the door. I don’t answer him, wondering what good could come out of this. Ares and I are both fiery people, fighting against him would turn into a huge mess and I don’t think I want it to happen. Hating him for the last dinner incident is easier. Now, I don’t know if I should be mad at him for seeing Carolina downstairs or just sad because, despite it all, he sneaked into my heart with barbels and gasoline, ready to tear me apart.

“Mia, c’mon. I’m not a patient man.” His voice grows sharper with anger, the door handle moving brutally under his grip. He’s going to break the door.

“No,” I state firmly.

“No?” he fires back, and I swear, I can hear him panting.

“I don’t want to talk to you!” I shout at the door.

A few seconds pass before Ares roars, “Step away from the door!” Then, a loud sound fills the room as I watch the lock shatter under the gunshot he just sent into it. His massive figure enters, the vein of his neck pulsing like he’s about to fight. And I hate myself for drinking every inch of his inked arms and wishing somehow they were on me.

“I said I don’t want to talk to you,” crossing my arms and stepping back until the back of my knees touches the bed, and I decide to get up on it. “I didn’t say you could shoot the lock and burst into the room!” My feet melt into the mattress as I tower over him, my towel still tucked around me.

“Nothing happened,” he grunts, both of us knowing what he’s talking about. I stay stuck, not knowing how to process this sudden jealousy eating me from the inside.

So I remain silent. Speechless. Fighting between being mad at him and hurting at the same time. And faithful to his ruthless nature, he sees the cracks and sneaks into it like a snake.

“What happened to that pretty mouth of yours?” he says, grinning wickedly. I don’t answer. Instead, I drink every inch of his broad chest under the light of the bedroom. His black shirt with his sleeves up to the elbows are distracting me.

“C’mon, wife, where’s your sass?” He pushes me further like he does with everyone. That’s his thing, finding the opening and digging deeper until you break in an irreversible way. Like fingers digging in an open wound. Ares is known for his mind games, and right now, he’s trying his best to push my buttons.

And it’s working.

“You think I’d take her in our living room? Knowing you were upstairs?” He steps dangerously toward the bed.

Damn it, my anger is on the edge of the cliff.

“Thought you wouldn’t care about it, princess.” He shrugs a shoulder carelessly while my heart is about to burst on the sheets.

“She was fucking hot, though,” he declares, giving me his last blow. And it hurts, it hurts way too much. Way more than it should. Jumping from the cliff, I swallow hard, my fists clenching hard along my hips, fighting the tears to stay in.

“You’re an asshole, Ares.” Thick tears build in my throat.

Why am I crying?

His grin widens.

“There she is.” A low chuckle roars in his throat but something else, something far more dangerous dances in his leafy gaze.

Why does he like making me angry? What’s in it for him?