Page 87 of Bound By Flames

“You could have known about it before if you had bothered to call, you know?” Mia says, her voice unusually cold, her chin up and proud like a fucking queen.

“I’m so busy, honey. You know with the house and the charities, so much to do and so little time,” her mother yaps back.

What kind of mother is this?

“Mia, give me the salt,” her father orders in a tone I don’t fucking like.

“I also have a huge dinner to organize, you know, with Henry’s wife from the country club, and it’s taking so much ti—”

“Mia, are you deaf girl?” her father shouts across the room.

I stand up immediately and stride to him, then grab his throat in my palm, his pulse quickening as I squeeze the life out of him.

That’s what she had to put up with her whole life?

She’s a fuckin’ saint. I would have shot him a long time ago if he was my father.

“Watch your mouth when you talk to my wife,” I threaten between gritted teeth.

The room falls silent, tension rippling in the air. Mia's father glares at me, but I don’t flinch. I step closer, his life in my right hand, my voice low but firm. Mia’s mother looks away, pretending she didn’t hear anything.

“Mia will never lift a finger in our home, and she sure as hell won’t ever lift one in yours.” He shifts in his seat, but his gaze falters, the weight of my words pinning him in place. I glance at my girl, her hand subtly tightening around her fork, her cheeks flushed, but she doesn’t say a word. She doesn't need to.

“You’re lucky she has enough kindness in her to sit at your table. You’ll treat her with the respect she deserves and never talk to her like that ever again. She’s not your little girl anymore; her name is Mia Malone, and where we come from, men don’t even dare to look in her eyes. I suggest you do the same.”

I squeeze his throat even tighter, the bastard turning red in my palm.

“Nod if you understand,” I tell her father before he nods nervously.

I loosen my grip and circle the table back to my seat, my gaze locked on Mia’s. A light blush dances on her cheeks, and a spark shines in her eyes. I sit, looking at her, and hoping she’ll see what I’m trying so hard to show her since her first panic attack.

That I got her.

That I’m willing to risk everything for her.

That she’s mine, and mine only to worship and protect.

“So Kiara, Mia told me you’re into tennis. What division are you playing in?” I ask her casually, like nothing happened. Her little sister's face lights up, and she elbows Mia not so discreetly in the ribs with a what-did-I-tell-you face.

Good.

Like I said, I hate messes, and this needed straightening out.

Chapter 19

Mia

Rule number one: do not drool over your husband at a family dinner, or you’ll make a fool of yourself and give your little sister enough material to get sassed for years.

It was hard enough to watch him over the table glancing at me and my plate, searching for trigger clues, but when he defended me in front of my parents.

I truly think feminism left my body at that instant. I’m a strong woman, I have my own business, I train hard to look fit, I have hobbies and opinions of my own. I was never into the whole protective, dangerous man fighting for his woman kind of thing.

But…

Um…

Well, it all kind of got thrown out the window since I stepped foot in Ares’s house, and since then, a fire has been spreading in my body and burning my senses each time I spend in his company.