DEBORAH'S P.O.V
I woke up to the most annoying sound ever.
Mother's Voice.
"WAKE UP DEBORAH," My overly excited mother screamed as she practically floated around the room with the clipboard in her hands. My head pounded with a killer headache. I groaned and rolled around to bury my face in the smooth purple silk cover of my pillow. She grabbed the pillow and sheets, successfully pulling me to the ground with a loud and painful thump.
"Deborah!" she beamed at my now opened eyes. "We need to decide on cake colors. I'm thinking white and lavender. What do you think?" I side- eye her as I glower. She's stunning. Petite and thinly framed with an ethereal made up face and tightly bound hair. She was the picture of prim and proper the church loved.
I wasn't.
I never was. Growing up. I always wanted to be like my mother. To be small and perfect so that she'd give me attention but I somehow never was. I tower over everyone even my dad, and if not for my mom's eye color - I'd look nothing like the rest of my family.
I closed my eyes again to try to get my much needed sleep. She was too busy anyway, spinning around and barking orders to invisible people. "I already spoke with Pastor Ezekiel. He's giving us the biggest hall for the ceremony. We're expecting at least three hundred guests!" Three hundred.
A small hand swatted at my behind and I quickly jumped up.
"Good women don't sleep in till 4 child. You're about to be a wife, you have to learn this. Soon you'll be tending to your husband and children."
"I'd rather not," I say softly.
" This is the way it has to be," she says turning to me. "Your wedding is the match of the century, why aren't you happy?"
I look away. "You know the answer mum."
"You have to let this go Deborah. You're a woman," she reminds me. "You're going to bring new life into the world soon and you can't do that while chasing wild dreams."
"But I don't want to," I cried.
"You have no other choice," she said with a triumphant smile.
Rage spread in my heart like a wildfire.
"Now onto better things, you've got four dresses. Each one does a great job of covering you up like a good Christian girl. We can't have you tempting men with your body."
"You said I looked like a busted Barbie doll in that one dress," I reminded her.
"Yeah I hate that one," she mummers, canceling something on her clipboard.
"Wanna know my favorite?"
My father came in with a wide grin, holding up a cup of coffee.
"The ball gown Pastor Jethro bought. It's pure silk and he imported it specially for you."
He looked proud.
I looked sick.
"Dad... Mom... you're really going through with this?" They both stopped and turned to me. "Of course," my mother said, confused. "Why wouldn't we?" "I mean... shouldn't I have a say?" My father laughed like I'd made a joke. "You're too emotional right now. You'll see. Jethro is a good man." Good? He hit me. They didn't
see it. They never would.
I stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by ribbons, lace, and two happy parents. I'd never felt more alone. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. I wanted someone to see me. Someone like... Mr. Blue Eyes. The memory of the way he'd looked at me like I was something rare flashed in my mind. And the way he hadn't looked away.
---
That night, Rachel found me lying on my back, staring at the ceiling of my bedroom. "They're going through it, huh?" she said softly. I didn't respond. She dropped beside me on the bed and nudged my shoulder. "You can't let them do this to you Deborah. You have to take do something."
"I tried but they won't let me."
"Do you really want to be married to that spineless idiot?"
"No, of course not."
"Then leave."
"What?"
"You heard me, Run Away. Think about it, they won't let you go now and if you go through with this wedding, you become stuck. Jethro will never let you go."
"But I can't just leave them"
"You have to choose between them or your dream."
"Ugh this is so hard," I cried banging my head again the headboard. "Even If I wanted to I don't have enough money."
"WHAT..what about the 5k?"
"I paid the entrance fee and got some other things. I have no money."
"Okay so you need money. And I know the perfect place."
I opened my eyes to look at her and closed it again.
"I don't feel like dancing." "You don't have to feel like it. You just have to do it. Trust me—get on that stage, wear something slutty, and let the music carry you. You need this money." "But..."
"And you know Mr. Blue eyes is waiting for you."
I hesitated. I want to see him again. He's the first man that has ever made me feel this way. If I do end up with Pastor Jethro, at least I'll have the memory of him. I nodded.
---
I stepped onto the stage and the lights hit me like an old friend.
He sat alone this time. Same seat. Same position. He didn't blink. He just watched. I danced. Slowly. Seductively. Like my soul was bleeding through the rhythm. His eyes never left me. I stepped down when the song ended. My body buzzed from the music and his presence.
I didn't even have to look back to know he was following me. The changing room door creaked open behind me. I turned slowly.
His large shoulders filled doorway, ending in his hands in his pocket. "You came back," he said in a deeply calm voice.
"I had to," I whispered.
He stepped in and closed the door. "I don't like unfinished business." I swallowed. My body was already reacting to him. Everything about him screamed danger. But my heart wants what it wants. "I'm not a business," I replied.
That made his lip twitch. He stared at me a bit before his handsome face broke into a big boyish grin. "Then what are you?"
"Confused." He walked toward me slowly like lion hunting it's favorite meal. "You don't look confused," he says stopping in front of me. "You look like someone who's trying to forget something." I blinked.
Was it that obvious? His fingers brushed my jaw. I flinched and swallowed loudly. He paused. "You're scared." "I should be."
"I don't hurt people who don't deserve it." I looked up at him. Into those eyes. "I'm tired of being scared," I said. His thumb brushed my cheek. "Then come with me."
---
His hotel room was nothing like I expected. The dark room was oddly organized. Something was out of place but I couldn't concentrate. I stood near the door, watching as he took off his coat. "You're safe here," he said, as if reading my thoughts.
"I don't feel safe anywhere." He turned. His eyes softened—just a little. "I'll keep you safe."
He reached for me and I stepped into his arms. It was electric. His kiss was deep and rough and honest. There was no pretending here. No faking. Just need. He didn't undress me like I was fragile. He undressed me like he'd imagined it a thousand times. Like every piece of fabric was keeping him from something vital. We didn't talk much. But our bodies did.
He squeezes my ass in his hands and pulls my hot center towards his member. A loud zing ran through me at the contact and I saw stars. My center vaporized into a puddle on the bed, my body mush from the high I was descending from.
"Fuck, you smell like heaven." My fingers dig into the sheets, turning my knuckles turning white as I arch arches towards him. He tsks at me. "Greedy girl," He whispers against my lips, softly kissing me again.
He pushes into me and my eyes watered at the painful sting. Realizing what the inhibition was,he stilled in me.
"Damn baby, are you a virgin?" I nod.
"I am, but I know I want this."
He stared at me for a while. I couldn't read his expression.
Fuck. He's going to walk away."I want you," I say, and then grinding against him to make him move.I don't know how or even why, but I trust him. "I wanted you at the club," i admit, his eyes burning into mine. "And yeah, I may sound really desperate since I don't even know your name, but I've thought about you all night. So,I promise I know what I'm doing here."
He stared a bit more before he completely took over and rammed deep into me.
"My name is Mikael."
And for the first time in a long time... I felt like I existed. Like I wasn't just someone's daughter. Or someone's future wife. Or someone's shame. I was just... Deborah. And he made me feel that.
---
I woke up in silk sheets beside him. He was asleep, one arm behind his head, lips slightly parted. Even in sleep, he looked so powerful and untouchable. I looked over at him with new tears in my eyes. A part of me wanted to stay. But I couldn't. I slipped out of bed, found my clothes and moved quietly. I don't belong here. Not in this world. Not with him. Not really. I tiptoed to the door, opened it and froze. My breath caught in my throat.
Because right in front of the door was my husband to be.