CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: HE LOVES BLACK ROSE AMARA POV One of the few occasions when drinking was worthwhile. But this is a whole different circumstance. I'm the kind of person who, to some extent, loses control when intoxicated. I don't allow myself to get to this point because of it. I've been to this place before and was so wasted that I couldn't even leave the place. It was one of those evenings where I wanted something to distract me because it got to be too much. I didn't anticipate what I saw in the club that evening. Shaking his head, Ethan. "Told you, you're a lightweight." I again shook the empty bottle in his face, saying, "I am not, your asshole… I have completed it all. Many thanks." I squint as Ethan exits and I look around the strange location he took me to. We are surrounded by tall trees on all sides. On my right, there is a house that resembles a cottage, and in the distance, water glistens. That's odd—is that a lake? Ethan unlocks my door and removes my seatbelt. I raise my finger in the air and ask, "What is this place?..."This isn't home," 'It's safer here, so we'll spend the night," he says nonchalantly. "No, I want to go home and make sure Uncle Raven and Belle are fine," I said. The answer is "They are." "How do you know?" He pulls out his phone and sighs as he shows me a text exchange between him and his father. The final sentence is highlighted by Ethan by tapping it. They are safe now. Both of you be safe. 'Happy now?" "No. Please take me home. I still want to go." He gently pulls me out by the arm and says, "We will go in the morning." I shiver. It's booze. Unquestionably, alcohol. When we get outdoors, I yank my arm away from his. As soon as I take my first step, I trip and fall back into a firm chest, saying, "I can walk on my own." I chuckle and say, "Oops." Despite the fact that I am facing his chest, he raises an eyebrow and asks, "You were saying?" His gaze meets mine. I'm not sure if it's the alcohol or the light, but his eyes seem to shine more brightly, as if he were actually worried. I turned around and lean my chin against his chest to look intently at him while holding the empty bottle in my hand. I feel so calm when I breathe in his aroma, am I right? No. It's untrue. My skull is being played with by the drink. I mutter, "I loathe you." "I know." 'You're not aware of how much I truly despise you, I assure you." "Why don't you tell me?" I asked. "I despise your face." 'You don't represent the majority, Princess." 'I despise your accent." "Still the minority." I detest your snarky demeanor when you're not really trying. My eyes flutter shut as he touches a strand of hair behind my ear. `So, you like it when I'm sincere? I remarked without opening my eyes, "Screw you, Ethan." He carries me again, and this time I don't object as my arms encircle his neck, saying, "Let's get you inside, and we'll work on that." I dozed off by placing my head on his chest. His movements are as silent and quick as always, but I just barely notice the lock unlocking. I can't even feel how far away I am. But after that, he places me on a plush surface. I open my eyes and find myself in a warm room. I'm currently lying on a bed in the center. The two lamps on the nightstands provide soft lighting. In the front, a sizable window has clear curtains drawn. It's warm here, or perhaps it's just me. My hair is missing a few clips, so I pluck at the remaining ones to loosen it before kicking off my heels. I get up and try to pull my dress' zipper down with my hand, but it gets stuck in the middle. I relinquished my hold with a moan. In an effort to come up with a solution, I anticipate. Ethan removes his jacket and bowtie and places them on the chair next to the bed before rolling up his shirt sleeves to his elbows. I'm briefly mesmerized by the image, the methodical manner in which he performs it, and the ring on his finger that I placed there despite the fact that he had blood on his hand. There is now no way to change the fact that we began with blood. "Ethan." Saying "Yes, Princess?" "Open it." "Open what?" he asked. 'My outfit. It's hilarious." "Are you going to get cleaned up?" "Not right now." He approaches me slowly, sits down next to me, and then grips my shoulder to turn me around. The touch of his skin on mine makes me squirm and giggle. "Stay still," he commands. "Okay, good." "I would have gotten you drunk before if I had known you'd be this cute," he said. "Don't call me cute. I'm the only one who gets me drunk." As he slides the zipper down my back, he says, "I'll call you whatever I wish, wife." But instead of letting me go, his finger traced my spine. His fingers continue to stroke my skin up and down, up and down, like he can't get enough, and I start to tremble all over. He mutters, "A tattoo of a snake. Interesting." 'It's a viper." "An even more interesting choice." I push him away and shove my dress down my shoulders, then kick it down to my feet, still in my black cotton bra and underwear. "When you weren't around." "Black means stay the f-ck away." I watched the action with my eyes, as if he was starving. 'This is the most delectable meal ever." I notice that he moistens his lower lip with his tongue. 'Who says that?" "Black is like a funeral," I declared. He grabs me by the wrist and says, "The joke's on you. I love black." I squealed as I fell into the bed. He climbs up on top of me and holds both of my wrists above my head. "And you too."