Guns & Roses (WATTYS 2017)

twenty two - secrets part two

Marcel's lean and defined form strides towards the table, the sound of boots clanking on the ground, and my heart pounding in my ears.

Don't scream. 

He places a hand on the silk table, rings glowing from his long fingers like gems, the gold perfectly matching his honey-dipped skin. 

If I wasn't so terrified, he would be attractive. 

He turns his gaze to his father, who smiled widely at him, pride oozing from every pore. 

"Mijo." He calls, his voice deeper than usual. I feel like Leia trapped with Jabba the Hut, while Han Solo is frozen beneath me. 

Luka's grip on me is like a viper, squeezing my skin to the point of pain. But I can feel his fear and anxiety. I scan the room for Roman's familiar face, and I find it, and his sharp jaw is tightened and fearful. 

At his father's words, Marcel moves towards him, around Luka, whose posture straightens, nearly knocking me off his lap. 

My eyes meet his, and we both know what the other is feeling. 

"Father." Marcel drawls, his voice thick as molasses and seems to stick like glue to the curves of my ears. It is a dreadful and fully evil sound. He leans down and kisses one of his father's rings. 

And then his gaze turns directly to Luka, bypassing me for now. 

"Little brother, so glad you could actually join us. But I'm sorry to inform you that the information that you speak about is completely beyond your understanding." His patronizing voice seems to make Luka shrink further into the plush leather of his chair. 

"Claro." He mumbles, looking down at his hands. Marcel draws nearer, placing a large hand on Luka's shoulder. 

Then I feel his blazing eyes reach me, and I look down at the table, the wall, anywhere but at him. 

"My, my." He slurs, his speech hissing like a snake. "What have you brought with you this time, brother?" His hand reaches out, grazing the side of my cheek. I choke back the bile that threatens to pour out of my mouth. 

Don't scream. 

"She seems so familiar." He whispers, the pad of his thumb brushing the most bottom part of my lace mask. I can feel my pulse jumping through my skin. He tilts my chin up, forcing my eyes to meet his. I almost gasp. They are almost completely black, as if his entire eye is only a pupil, absent of any color. 

"You would expect me to remember those eyes." He whispers, and I feel his finger threatening to lift up my mask, when Luka jerks me to the side slightly, pulling me away from Marcel's touch. 

I let out a silent exhalation of breath. 

"I really don't think it's any of your concern, Marcelo." Luka's tone is aggravated almost to a growl, as both of his hands go to some part of my body, one on my back and the other on my hip. 

Marcel stares at him for a moment, his expression unreadable. 

Then he smiles, and throws his head back in a cackle. The rest of the room joins in nervously. 

"Oh, little Vincenzo." He says, clapping Luka on the shoulder. "I don't want your jailbait. Don't be such a coño."  

Luka's jaw tightens even more and I can practically hear his teeth grinding. 

"Marcel, we have a seat for you reserved." An small voice states, as Marcel is guided to the other side of the table from us, next to his father's other side.