Chapter 10RoseVox

Chapter 10

Rose

As I step into the wedding dress shop, my hands suddenly shake, hinting at the suffocation waiting for me inside.

I don’t want to do this.

I can almost taste the pressure, heavy with expectations I never wanted. I glance around the room and see rows and rows of dresses stretching out like an endless sea of white waves. Everywhere I look, it’s just more dresses, each one fancier than the last.

Lace, glitters, silk, everything I will never have.

“Come on Rose, we don’t have all day.” My mother's voice cuts through the air like a knife, her excitement palpable as she gestures towards rolls of fabric at the back of the store.

No pretty dresses for me. A true little lamb must know where she belongs .

It suddenly feels hard to breathe, as if the shop didn't have oxygen in it. My heart pounds in my ears and all I can think of is how trapped I am. Like a bird with clipped wings, forever watching the world from a window. I reach my mother and force a smile on my lips, one I’ve perfected over years of practice.

“Found what you were looking for?” I sign to her.

“Not quite, come here,” she says, pulling out a rough white fabric and putting it under my chin. I look at her while she contemplates the fabric on me, a heavy pout on her face. “No, this one makes you look sick.” She turns and grabs another one, adjusting it on my chest, facing the mirror in front of us.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” says a small brunette with an “Anna” tag on her chest.

“No, thank you, we already know what we want,” my mom answers with a dry tone. Despite her claims of disdain for the outside world, her eyes sparkle with joy and excitement.

Does she miss it? Her old life before entering our community?

"That’s the one!" Her declaration cuts through my thoughts, her smile wide as she points towards a fabric with fervor. But she doesn't bother to show me what she's chosen for my wedding dress. In our community, it's tradition for the mother of the bride to sew the dress, and I can see how thrilled she is at the prospect, as if she's suddenly found a purpose.

"Can I see it?" I sign faking interest.

"Sure, look. It’s simple, yet there’s a shine on it, just like you." I’m caught off guard by her compliment.

There’s love, somewhere in her heart, there is love for me. Even if I don’t understand how she can snap from ice cold to warm and gentle like now.

A part of her loves me, I know it.

Her fingers delicately grasp the fabric, and with a gentle motion, she manipulates it to catch the light. It glimmers, casting a mesmerizing glow that dances across the surface.

It should be a happy moment, between mother and daughter. Only this time the wedding isn’t a joyful occasion. I know what this fabric represents—binding me further to a fate I never chose. As my mother beams with pride, I suddenly feel guilty. She's found purpose in this task, she’s, well, content.

Why can’t I act the same way?

“Perfect,” I sign, forcing a smile and masking the turmoil within me, but inside, I'm screaming. I wish we had a better relationship, so I could have told her about my doubts and my fears. About how scared I am to fulfill my duty and how disconnected I feel from our community.

She wouldn't understand. After all, she’s the one who prepared the bath my father drowned me into the night of Mr Collins' punishment.

For now, all I can do is nod along, pretending that the fabric in my mother's hands holds the key to my happiness, while inside, I'm drowning with no one to turn to.

Well, maybe not no one.

Last week, when he told me about our leader, when he took that commanding tone I didn’t know he could have, I felt it in my bones, like a hammer crushing me with a truth I was not ready for.

Could it be true?

The community, our leader, our rules and traditions. Could it all be… a lie?

I need time to think, but I’m running out of it, each day pulling me closer to the wedding. I have the strange feeling that something massive is going to happen, like a storm brewing on the horizon, ready to unleash its fury and reshape everything I've ever known.

Can I go through with this marriage? What if I got out? What if I was out there, in this world, wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt with a man like Vox by my side.

No, no, I can’t allow that kind of thinking. It’ll only make me miserable, and how could I even break free?

He did say he would be there for you in a heartbeat, a voice in my mind whispers.

Running away would mean losing everyone and everything I’ve ever known. I know what they do to people who get out of the Faithful Lambs. They’re not allowed in anymore, shunned from the community forever.

Could I handle it?

-

Sitting at my desk doing my homework for the Institute, I hear a small vibration coming from my nightstand where I've hidden Vox’s phone.

Even if it's my first time having one, I've seen enough people in the street with them to understand how it works. Also, I was kind of spying on a lady in front of me at the supermarket while she was typing a text.

It didn't look that hard.

Phones are forbidden at the Institute and apart from Elders like my father, it's not usual to have one in the community. Especially if you're a woman. Needless to say, the internet is a concept I've never had the opportunity to discover.

No phone, no laptop, nothing. Only allowed books and the Ascendium, of course.

My heart skips a bit as I read Vox’s message. He's wondering if I'll be coming to his house tonight.

God, I wish I would tell him no, that I need time to think and such. But he's been on my mind the whole day, his words and touches haunting me.

Despite the rules and the risks, there's a magnetic pull drawing me towards him. We’re both so different and at the same time so alike. I can’t get enough of the thrill I get each time I spend in his presence. Especially with his way of taking care of me. It's… intoxicating . But with every heartbeat, there's a pang of guilt, knowing that by indulging in him, I'm betraying the trust of my family and the principles of our community.

Should I stay at my house or break the rules and find him?

With trembling fingers, I compose a brief reply to Vox, my heart pounding with each keystroke. That's when I see the name he has chosen for me, making my belly fill with butterflies.

Angel : If I come, will you read to me?

I type before hesitantly pressing send. The rush of adrenaline floods my veins, mingling with the anticipation of what awaits me tonight.

Could we just have tonight, with no revelations, no pressure, just us?

I close my eyes, putting the phone on my chest like a treasure. I try to say it out loud, “Vox” training myself for him just like he did, learning some signs.

As I sit back on my desk, the phone still in my hand, I know that I’m breaking the boundaries I tried to keep up since the day I met him. I'm longing for his deep voice and his rough hands on me, knowing that in a few hours I'll sneak out of my bedroom to join him and hopefully nestle in his arms while he reads to me.

God, I didn't know I could feel this way, obsessed and curious, eager and frightened, all at the same time.

Vox.

The man I've never expected.

A dark night on a metallic beast, haunting me like the sun chases the stars at every sunrise.

Vox

Removin’ my cut on the wood bench of my entryway, I tuck my leather boots and head to the kitchen to fix myself a drink.

Been a long day, but a good one. Tried to do as much as possible to keep my mind away from the anticipation of tonight. Which ended up finishing the accounts and orders quickly enough that I got time for one more surprise visit in town to a fuckin' baby dealer who thought he could just set foot on our territory and sell like nobody's watching. Carter's toolbox provided the tools I needed to make him regret his mistake.

Blood stains mar my hands as I wash them in the sink. Hurting people gives a certain thrill but tonight, there's a different kind of anticipation coursing through me. One that has nothing to do with the usual chaos of the club.

Just wanna see my girl.

It's late. I knew I couldn't stand waiting for her, so I took a longer ride to get back home, drove through the forest and pushed my Harley to its limits, enjoying the adrenaline rush for a while before being reminded of her.

I walk to my bookshelf and reach for the book I've been reading to her, running my fingers over the familiar spine, remembering the time I read to her. How good it felt to know that she was hanging on to every word, her blue eyes widening as each new character made its way into the story.

And mostly because of how fuckin' adorable she looked then.

Sittin’ on the couch, I reach for the blanket draped over the armrest. She’s not here yet but somehow, I want things to be right for her arrival, wanting nothing more than to make her comfortable. The blanket in hand, a whiff of vanilla hits me. It's been imprinted in the wool since her last time here.

Damn.

A small knock takes my attention to the bay window.

There she is.

Wild blonde hair falling on her chest like Venus herself knocking at my door.

My girl.

Despite my reluctance for whatever this is between us, there’s no fuckin’ doubt for me anymore that she is indeed, mine .

Her tiny silhouette drowns in her long brown nightgown, only revealing the shapes of her hips against the fabric. Her thick blonde hair dances on her shoulders, making me ache to run my fingers through it. I don't even have the time to open it for her, she's already in, barefoot, leaving her shoes at the door, a tiny smile on her face, her icy blue eyes filled with something wild inside them.

“Hi,” I say to her, and she answers me back, her full lips mesmerizin’ me. I noticed that there’s a few words I can read on her lips, basic stuff like “Hi” and ‘Thank you”. As she walks toward the place next to me on the couch, I make a mental note to find a course on lip reading to complete the one I already follow.

As she settles beside me on the couch, she fidgets, playing with her hands. There's a subtle tension in the way she holds herself, a yearnin’ that mirrors my own desire to feel her close. I don’t move, trying to not overwhelm her.

I’m already fuckin’ grateful she’s even here since our last conversation.

I watch as she shifts slightly, her movements almost hesitant as if she's unsure whether to bridge the distance between us.

C’mon, sweetheart, just get in here.

Without a word, I open my arm, silently inviting her to come close. Her brows relax and she leans into me, biting her lower lips, her body molding perfectly against mine as if it belonged there all along. She nestles against my chest, her head finding its rightful place on my shoulder. I feel her hand tentatively reach out, fingers grazing lightly over the fabric of my shirt, before coming to rest over my heart. I freeze instantly, caught off guard.

She must feel my heart pounding like crazy underneath the fabric.

Gonna be hard to pretend I don’t feel anything now.

For a moment, we simply sit there, the book on my lap while she’s melting into my arms.

Where she belongs.

“Alright, you wanted me to read to ya?” She nods against my chest. “Do ya want the same book or another?” Fidgeting in my arms, she points to the book on my lap.

“Thought so.” I take the book with my free arm and make myself comfortable enough to be able to turn the page with my other arm. I pull her even closer into my chest, surrounded by my body at all sides. She pulls the blanket onto her body, but I tuck it even higher.

Don’t want her to be cold.

Still talking about walls?

Fuck.

“Alright, you need anythin’ you tell me, Angel,” I say before kissing her forehead. I’ve been dying to do that since she stepped into my home a few minutes ago. I hear her sigh lightly, as if she was finally letting go, like she had been waiting for me to do that since she arrived.

“Chapter 3,” I start reading for her and hopefully it will shut up my mind, keep it away from drifting into dark territories and questions about why I should try to keep her away from me.

It's just her, me and the book, with nothing else mattering in that moment. No fuckin’ cult, no club, nothin’. Just my girl and I, like a fuckin’ picture of what our life could be if I had the guts to let her in. I sneak glances at her from time to time, takin’ in the way her eyes sparkle with each turn of the pages, the way her lips curve into a smile at the funny parts.

Those lips.

Clenching my jaw, I try to remind myself where she comes from, her story, her life. Her being here with me, in my arms, is already way outside her comfort zone, and I don’t want to scare her away. Rose has nothin’ to do with the chicks hangin’ out at the club, ready to open their legs for anyone, wearing revealing clothes that leave nothin’ to the imagination. Not saying that I’m a big fan of her long brown dresses. I actually would rather see her with a tight pair of jeans, a black t-shirt molding her chest and a property cut with my name on it.

A property cut now?

Yeah, I’m so fucked.

The vision of her wearing a property cut makes my blood pump harder. I shake my head, trying to calm down and fight the urge to imagine her wearing my name on her back. After two more chapters and almost an hour and a half, I close the book.

“Want more, Angel?”

She shakes her head against me. Damn, even if I’m learning more sign language everyday online, I'll never get tired of her way of talking to me with her adorable gestures. She looks up at me, her eyes wide, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips, and I can't help but smirk back at her.

"Thank you," she silently says as I watch her perfect mouth move and catch her gaze on my lips at the same time.

Does she…?

Does she want me to kiss her?

I want it so bad I could crush a wall with my fist right now. I brush a stray strand of hair from her face, tuckin’ it behind her ear.

"Anytime, Angel," I reply, my voice hittin’ a lower tone I didn’t know I had. Putting the book back on the table in front of us, I incline my body towards her, pullin’ us even tighter, her lips so close I could just drop my head to her and crush them with hers. The tension between us thickens and I lean in, drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

Surely she must feel somethin’, it can’t just be in my mind, or could it be?

From the moment I first saw her, I’ve been fighting the undeniable pull she has on me and that seems to become stronger as the days pass. The heat of her breath mingles with mine, her eyes searching mine for somethin’. My heart pounds in my chest as I inch closer, my senses on high alert, every nerve ending tinglin’ with anticipation. The sweet scent of vanilla surrounds us, her fragrance filling the air of my home. I lift my hand and cup her cheek, the other one drifting on her lower back.

I’m fuckin’ burning for her.

Her lips part ever so slightly, like a silent invitation I’m dying to accept. It's like we're suspended in time, caught in this moment where nothing else exists except us.

Just as our lips are about to meet, she exhales, her lower lips trembling before opening up for me.

“Vox,” I hear in a barely audible whisper, wincing while the sound escape her perfect lips.

She, fuck, did she just talk?!

She said my name, with the sweetest broken voice I've ever heard. But it looked fuckin’ painful and that won’t do.

“Angel,” I say, strokin’ her jaw with my thumbs, “I hear ya,” pulling my forehead on hers, amazed by what she just did. One day, I’ll ask her what happened to her voice, why it is so painful for her to make any sounds, but not right now. Right now we don’t need fuckin’ words. She’ll tell me when she’ll want to.

“Love hearin’ your voice, Angel,” I tell her, “But if it’s painful for you to talk, I’ll never want to hear another word comin’ from your perfect lips,” I manage to say despite my longing to hear more of it. Despite loving her sweet voice dripping like hot lava on my heart, I don’t want her to hurt herself, especially not for me. I never cared that she couldn’t talk, not since day one. We have our own way to communicate and that’s more than enough for me.

Her skin is warm beneath my touch, her eyes fluttering closed at the contact. I can hear the sound of her inhale, shallow and ragged, echoin’ in the silence between us. She wets her lips with her tongue, sendin’ a surge of heat coursing through me. It's like she's gettin’ ready to kiss me, to finally give in to the pull that's been drawing us together.

But before I can close the remainin’ distance, she recoils, a look of shock flashin’ across her face. Panic flares in her eyes as she stands and puts the blanket back on the couch.

Fuck, I went too far.

“Angel, it’s okay,” I tell her, fuckin’ hating myself for pushin’ her too much. I stand to get to her but she’s already joggin’ to the bay window. Putting a strong hand on the handle of the window, I stop her from running away from me.

Stay, please, Angel, stay.

“Don’t run away from me, Angel, not again.” Not like last week. I’ve never been a fuckin’ begger but this time I would be ready to kneel for her and make sure we’re okay. Her leaving me like this triggers the hell out of me and sends me back to the night of the accident when I lost my family.

Placin’ my palm on the center of my chest, I move it in a clockwise motion, meaning “please” in sign language. Don’t fuckin’ care that I have to beg. I’m not lettin’ her go like that, just before we were about to fuckin’ kiss.

Her eyes widen at my gesture, shocked to see that I’ve just signed to her.

“C’mon, come here, I know you don’t want us to talk but I can’t fuckin’ let you go like that,” I say, lacing my fingers with her hand, pulling her toward the kitchen. I know she’s scared, so I’ll have to go slowly if I want a chance to see her again.

What about the walls?

Reluctantly, she allows me to lead her towards the kitchen. With a swift motion, I retrieve a pen and notebook from the drawer, setting them on the counter before her.

"Still learning," I explain, gesturing towards the notebook. "We'll have to use these till I get the hang of it." The look of astonishment on her face is priceless. She clearly hadn't expected me to learn sign language for her.

Well, I fuckin’ am.

"Why did you run away?" I ask, leaning back against the sink, giving her space.

She writes a response before sliding the notebook across the countertop.

"Are you learning ASL?"

"Yeah," I reply casually, shrugging off the significance. "Figured I might as well.”

How can I tell her the truth behind it?

Cause I want us to be able to fuckin' talk, like a couple. Cause I want to know every corner of her mind. And it turns out my girl speaks sign language so that’s why I’m learning it too. But I can’t tell her. Fuckin’ tough to show my soft side when I’ve been livin’ in the shadows for so long.

"Why?" she signs, touching her forehead with her fingers then bringing her palm down. I kinda like that I get what she signed to me.

"It’s not a big deal, Angel, really," I admit, the words slipping out before I can stop them.

Her mouth forms a small 'o' of surprise to my cold answer.

Is she disappointed? I can tell I caught her off guard. Taking hold of the notebook, she writes fervently, almost angrily. But I cut her off before she can protest, determined to make her understand.

"I'm learning ASL for us , Angel, and you're gonna be okay with it."

Did I fuckin' say us?

I assert firmly, crossing the distance between us and resting my hands on her hips, pulling her towards me while I read “but” on her trembling lips. She tries to interject, but I shake my head, caressing her jaw with the back on my fingers.

"But what, Angel?" I inquire softly, my voice softer as I gaze into her ocean eyes. With trembling fingers, she writes, "You don’t have to."

How can I tell her that she's been on my mind like a damn drug, that every time I close my eyes, all I see is her face and her blue eyes filled with that spark that ignites something deep inside me? How can I admit that she’s the first person I’ve allowed myself to feel this way about since losing my family? It scares the hell out of me.

I’m not good with words, so I just pull her closer, wrappin’ my arms around her, holding her tight like she's the only thing keepin’ me grounded in this fucked-up world. And hope she’ll get whatever answers she needs to understand why I’m learning sign language.

"Rose," I rasp out her name, the scent of vanilla swirlin’ around us as I pull her closer. Most addictive scent I ever tasted.

She fits against me, her petite figure a stark contrast to my rough edges, her long blonde hair like silk brushing against my black shirt. Her skin, soft and creamy against the calloused hands of a man who's seen too much, too soon.

I clench my jaw. "I ain't cut out for this stuff,” I confess. It's tough admitting it, but it's the truth. "But one thing’s for sure, I ain't lettin' you go."

She meets my gaze, her eyes searchin’ mine, and for a moment, it feels like she's peerin’ into the depths of my soul.

"Vox," she silently says as I now know the exact pattern of her lips when she says my name.

Damn, I want to see those lips every fuckin' day of my existence.

Her fingers trace the stubble along my jawline, makin’ my dark heart skip a bit.

“C’mon, wanna show you somethin’ before you go.” Takin’ her hand in mine, I move us to the living room, guidin’ her toward my collection of vinyl records neatly stacked in the corner. With a flick of my finger, I browse through the titles, searching for somethin’ she'd like.

Sinatra.

Just like in the old days.

I place it on the turntable and let “Fly Me to the Moon” fill the room as I watch her eyes spark from the melody. Then, cause I'm just a man in front of a goddess and keeping my hands away from her is becoming unbearable, I kiss her palm, lockin’ my eyes with hers. “Wanna dance, Angel?”

She nods, saying somethin’ I don't fully get, but I catch “don't know” and “dance.”

“I got ya,” I say, leadin’ her to the center of the room.

An image of my past flashes in my mind.

Laughter, love, family.

That’s what she’s remindin’ me of.

Of what it feels like to belong.

I’ve never tried to seduce a chick from the club or anyone else. It's so fuckin' strange and effortless at the same time. We start to move, balancin’ ourselves with the music in the background.

Haven’t listened to this song for thirteen years.

Never felt right back then.

But here, today, with her.

It just makes sense.

I hold her tight, feeling her heartbeat against mine. We swing like that for a couple minutes. As the song comes to an end, I press a rough kiss to her forehead. With a shy grin, she looks up at me, her eyes sparking with vulnerability and somethin’ warmer.

Raisin’ her index to my chest, she taps it twice gently, watching me like I'm her whole fuckin' world.

Don't know what she said but I get that it's important for her.

“Want ya’ to stay the night,” I whisper, kissin’ her temple.

A sad smile appears on her face, her hand fisting my shirt, telling me silently that she wants it too but she can't. Gotta give her time to process what I told her earlier this week. I can almost see her mind churning, putting the pieces together.

She sighs, detangling herself from my body and stepping back. She's fidgeting, that’s fuckin' adorable, like she's suddenly shy after spending hours in my arms.

“Come back tomorrow,” I say, feeling suddenly empty without her skin on mine. “Or I'll break into your house and drag ya down myself,” I say with a soft grin on my face.

She's my girl now, won't let anythin’ between us. Just need to think of how I'm gonna get rid of Skarn and her parents. Won't be a walk in the park for her but I'll do what must be done to protect her.

I walk her out, listening to her breathing as if it could indicate somethin’ to me. Damn I better learn to sign fuckin' fast cause I want to know everythin’ about her. As she leaves, givin’ me one last look, making my knees weaken, I take out my phone as soon as she's out of sight. I watch her entering her room on my screen and preparing herself to get to bed.

Once she's tucked under her covers, which I damn wished I did myself, I open my laptop on the kitchen counter and search for the sign she did after our dance. The one I didn't get.

Clicking on a video, my jaw drops to the floor, and my heart tightens at the same time, so fuckin' much it hurt.

Mine.

That's what she said as she was signing on my chest.

Mine.