Blood Ties:Becoming A Mobster’s Wife

CYAN

I passed my hands over the dewy hazel blades of grass for the fifth time, relishing the feeling of the rivulets of wetness sticking to my fingers. I was cold, not because autumn in Baltimore is not pleasant, but because I had little to no amount of clothes on. I didn't know how I ended up in the hazel grassy field, but I knew that I was there, half naked in boy shorts and a bra, no money and no food. It had rained the day before, I could tell because of the wet hazel coloured grasses. As I sat, cross-legged on the grasses, for another half an hour, caring less about where I was, a long, gloomy shadow casted over my small frame. I tipped my head back and looked up at the brooding, dominating silhouette of a man.

"Who are you?". His voice passed over my skin like the barrel of a pistol dripping in chocolate. So incredibly sweet and deadly, I subconsciously found myself closing my eyes. I heard him letting out a light hiss and I opened my eyes to find him crouching down in front of me, his light grey pants stretching over his strong calves and knees.

"I don't like repeating myself, Cara" he warned and I sighed. I tilted my head to the side, staring at him with squinted eyes and trying to stay caged in between the sinister grey and lonely blackness in his eyes. I could tell I wasn't fine, because I couldn't stop staring at this man yet nothing about him was registering in my brain. I kept forgetting everything about him except his domineering presence.

"Do you live around here?" I asked in a quiet voice. He narrowed his eyes. In threat or confusion, I couldn't tell.

"What are you doing here? This is private property"

"Is it?"

"Yes, it is," he paused and hissed before he straightened up, unfolding before me. He looked down at me like a peasant invading his powerful glory and I almost smiled at him. "Now get off my property".

I sighed and wrapped my slim arms around myself, my teeth clattering a little because of the cold.

"I don't know where else to go" I murmured.

"I don't care"

"What is this place anyway?"

"Do you know who I am, Cara?"

I shook my head, no. "I'm hungry. Can I have some food?" I pleaded. He looked at me in confusion, a little disturbed about my state. I couldn't blame him. I looked more dead than a heartbroken Shakespearean sonnet. He gets back on his knees and assessed me with those sinister silk grey eyes and I found myself thinking back at his voice, only this time it felt like a chocolate-dripping pistol kissing my skin underneath silk grey sheets. I felt my core tingling at the very thought of it and I tilted my head to the side again, staring at him. He catches a strand of my matted black hair in between his fingers and twirled. That hair hadn't seen a comb in years.

"Where did you come from, Cara?" He asked in a low voice and I swallowed.

"An orphanage. They threw me out after I turned 18 and nobody wanted to adopt me. So I ended up wandering through cities. My feet are killing me. I rest in random places like this once in a while. It's okay, right?".

He stared at me for a moment long, searching my eyes before he asked.

"Do you want to come with me?"

"Do you have food?" I asked with big, pleading eyes. He sighed and gets back onto his feet. I watched him as he took off his grey suit jacket and drapped it over my shoulders lazily. He swaddled my thin arms into it and a blanket of safety cocoons my entire helpless existence when he carried me in his arms. I inhaled his scent.

He smelt like gun powder, blood and strong manly cologne with a hint of cigar. I inhaled again, it still waved all the red flags.

Yet, I found myself snuggling into him and closing my eyes. I fell asleep in what I knew was as dangerous as kissing a starving lion.

•••••••••

I woke up some time around noon and the man gave me food. I ate like a dog, without any manners and he watched. Watched me like a hawk from across the island of his gigantic kitchen. If I wasn't so hungry, I would've been lost in the unbelievable space but I haven't had food in days that it took more than two plates of pasta and vegetables to start connecting my brain cells together.

This man that I followed, this stranger that offered me food.... a stranger that smelt so much like blood and cigar, sat across from me on one of the lush stools lined up against the kitchen's marbled island. His white shirt was slightly creased, easing and stretching against muscles that I oddly wanted to lick.

Like an animal.

The fabric of his shirt outlined dark tints of hidden glory tattoos that I wanted to explored. Yet, as he stared at me from across the counter, I realized that I didn't know this man. And he didn't know me too.

Two complete strangers staring at each other like creatures of opposite universes. Our universes were so different. I was dirty, clammy and skinny, no clothes except for my boy shorts and a sports bra. While he sat there, white shirt, grey pants and all, long dark hair slicked back in a man bun, defined jawlines peppered with a two-day old stubble that would scratch my skin more than the twigs under the bridge I'd once slept on.

"What's your name?" He asked in a deep voice. My lips thinned into a straight line.

"Cyan," I paused and gave him a crooked smile. "Like the color".

He nodded his head and a low hum sounded at the back of the throat.

"Blue" he agreed. He leaned his elbows on his knees and stared at me with his face inches away from mine.

"What are you doing in a city like this all alone?". He spoke to me like I was a child, and it made me cower back, shrinking into myself as though I hadn't shown an infinite amount of weakness by coming with him.

"Wandering" I answered shortly.

"Are you lost?"

"I don't know. Am I in danger?"

He smirked and roamed his eyes over my face before he locked them with mine again.

"This is the least safest place you can be, Cara."

"Because of the Cosa Nostra?"

He narrowed his eyes at me.

"Cosa Nostra. Cara, this is a dangerous place. It's like you're swimming with the sharks and the moment you start bleeding," he paused and inhaled the air around me sharply. Then, he gave me a look that made my toes curl and the hairs on my skin stand erect. "The scent of blood is unnerving."

My stomach dropped and my brain cells came together to make an uncanning realization.

I didn't know this man. And the Cosa Nostra ruled the cities. Blood and cigar weren't just a coincidental combination. But still, I decided to ask.

"Who are you?"

He stayed silent, pink lips thinned into a straight line and those eyes, those sinfully grey eyes connivingly calculating, telling me I really didn't want know. But I had a sickening feeling that I already knew. I followed a lion into its den, though not to kiss it, but definitely to kiss my non-existent old life goodbye.

He was cosmos with a diabolical amount of storm brewing within those silky grey eyes, while I was chaos with an infinite amount of calmness.