Chapter 17: Actually all his
"Belle, calm down." I grasp both her hands in mine, sitting her on my bed and kneeling in front of her. She's hyperventilating. I shouldn't have done this. I shouldn't have shown her that, or made her do that. I got her to bust two kneecaps and she watched me kill the guy. What the fuck is wrong with me? I wanted to show her the monster I am, and I did. Now she's having a panic attack.
She doesn't seem to be able to calm herself down like Ranger had described to me. She just stares, eyes wide open, not blinking at all. And her chest rising and falling unnaturally. I can even hear her heartbeat myself, that's how loud it's thudding.
"Belle," I call out to her, cupping her cheeks to try and make her look at me. But she looks frozen, unable to even realize what's happening. And then she completely blacks out, falling into my arms and off the bed. Fuck.
I change her into more comfortable clothes, removing her bra and sliding at tank top over her, her still passed out. I get her into some little bed shorts and bring her under the bed, getting us both under the covers and apologizing to her. I know she can't hear me, maybe that's why I do it. I know what I did was wrong, but I can't actually say sorry to her. I'm strong and apologies are weak. I'm not this caring thoughtful guy. I don't do this shit. Yet, with Belle, I can't help but want to help her. I want to kiss her, and fuck her and make her mine. But I also want to cuddle her, take care of her, give her everything. She deserves everything. I'm not a good man though. She doesn't deserve me. But, I'm a cold ruthless bastard and she's mine. I'm never letting her go.
Soon I realize that she was awake, probably for a while and we just sit in silence. She may have heard me apologize. Fuck. It doesn't matter. At least she knows I'm sorry. Again, soon enough, she's out. But she's asleep now, thank God. She mumbles in her sleep, cute sounds as she snuggles her body close to me and wraps her legs around my legs. I feel... something for her. She gives me a warmth sensation, more than a sex drive. I was angry about it at first, and arrogant about it. I ignored it completely but the more I get to know her, the more I realize I can't ignore it. It gets stronger. But she's mine. Completely mine. No one is taking her from me.
"Enzo," she breathes out, clutching my arm whilst asleep. I find her sleeping ways adorable. She pouts and scrunches her face up and clings to me like she wants to get even closer. Why would she want me? Does she want me? Or does she just need someone, anyone? And I'm just here.
As morning rolls in, the lights stream through the gaps in the curtains and I feel Belle stirring in my arms. Her eyes flick open and gaze wide at me as they lock with my own.
"Good morning," she whispers. Even though she wriggles a little, I can't let her go from my arms, squeezing her even tighter to tell her that. And so, she stops wriggling. "I'm sorry." Why the fuck is she sorry? Even when I should be apologizing, she does.
"For what?" I question.
"For being weak. Panicking. I s-shouldn't..." she trails off, rubbing her eyes with her small fisted hand.
"I'm not mad. I did kill someone in front of you. It's a normal reaction," I reply, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. "Is that the first dead person you've seen?"
"No," she mutters, staring at my chest whilst biting her lip. Who else has she seen dead?
"My dad. I found him," she responds.
"Tell me about it," I say in a commanding tone. I don't mean to do it, to order her to talk about something uncomfortable. But she doesn't seem to mind, acting as if my bossing her around is something she's okay with.
"I woke up, and it was the afternoon. He had hurt me the night before and I was sore and bruised. I walked downstairs and found him bleeding out on the floor, almost dead, almost. But I couldn't do anything. I couldn't make myself get help. I let him die," she tells me, still staring at my chest. Maybe that's why she freaked out, along with the fact that I killed someone in front of her. But the fact that I brought up bad memories, memories she's worked to forget.
"Do you get panic attacks a lot? Ranger saw you one time, you were humming and listing things."
"I get them sometimes, when I remember things that I want to forget, it makes me anxious. I list things that are calming to me and I sing this song, it gives me hope."
"Sing it to me," I whisper, hoping that a quieter voice would make the demand less present but it still shows. But again, she's willing to accept it.
"High up above, the angel sleeps, soon she will come, to rescue me. Be patient and wait, for she won't be long, hold on 'til then, and sing this song," she sings and I fight the urge to smile at her beautiful voice, and her words.
"Who wrote that?"
"I did. I know, it's bad. It... just feels hopeful. The idea of an angel just sleeping, that why she's not here to help me, but she'll wake up and come soon."
"You need rescuing?" I ask. I can't help but feel a punch to my gut.
"From the attack, yes."
"From here? From this place? From me?" I question, hugging her tighter to me.
"I'm yours," she breathes out.
"Is that real? Answer me honestly. I make you say it. It doesn't mean you believe it, I know that. Are you mine?"
"Yes," she replies, furrowing her eyebrows at me. "I'm yours, sir."
"Enzo," I correct her and I see the little smile form on her face. I know she's trying to hold it back.
"I'm yours, Enzo." Her fingers begin to trace my body, over my tattoos and scars. God, I'm hers as well. She doesn't know that but she's fucked with my head, flipped my whole world upside down. Yet, away from her, I'm the same. With her, I'm the same too, yet it's not the same, it feels different.
"Mine," I growl, my hands sliding down to her perfect round ass and rubbing her skin under the shorts. "Mine, gattina."
"Why do you call me 'kitten'?" she asks, looking up to me with her little tired face.
"Because you're small and cute and curious," I list, smirking down at her.
"And I have an owner," she adds, raising her eyebrows at me. Her tone isn't serious, so I know she's not pissed at it.
"Maybe I should call you cucciola (pup)," I tease. "They're loyal to their owners." I press my lips against hers and she kisses me back, showing her loyalty to me. "But, we found a kitten in your apartment, a stray when we went there. It reminded me of you."
"A stray?" she questions.
"A baby stray cat. Like you."
"People always compare me with animals. Why? I was compared to a horse once."
"A horse?" I question with an amused smirk.
"He said he didn't want to kick a beaten horse. And I guess I was the horse," she tells me with a melancholy smile. I hug her closer, letting her head rest on my chest and my chin sit atop her head.
"You're mine, bambina," I whisper. "Do you want breakfast?"
"No. I just want to stay here," she mumbles into my chest, her lips brushing my skin as she talks. She wants to stay here, with me. She's all mine. All fucking mine.