Italian Coffee House [BWWM]

- C h a p t e r 38 -

Ciao Amores,

I hope you its a worthy read. Bare with me. It's intense. Note that I do not condone use of obscene language. It is only used to vivify the story.

Here's the Thirty-eighth installation of Italian Coffee House.

Please
VOTE
COMMENT
RECOMMEND
FAN

ENJOY XD. Thank you — everyone of you, for your unfailing love and support.

XO,
Ang

------

Niccolò's Chocolate House

Chapter 38

*Dari*

**Please be advised that the following chapters contain adult subject matter, graphic scenes, profanity, racialism and are not suitable for readers under the age of 18. Consider yourself forewarned. **

A sickening heat circulated me. Beads of sweat traced a path down my forehead, accumulating so that they resembled teardrops at the edge of my brow. Were they tears? It was difficult to tell from my position on the calloused ground beneath me. However, it didn't matter. Both seemed to align for one purpose. To rub me of fluids that were necessary to keep my body hydrated.

Maybe someone forgot to turn on the A.C. I scoffed, shaking my head at the   terrible attempt of a joke. Marveling at my fabulous timing.

Remember that feeling?

Waking up in the middle of the night, drenched in cold sweat?

The only difference? My nightmare was compounded. As real as the breathe of air in my lungs. My clothes wreaked of perspiration, clinging to me like a second skin. The moment I roused from my comatosed state, a pitch black darkness surrounded me, bringing with it uncertainty. Regardless how many times I'd tried to convince myself, that everything would turn out alright.

The fact remained that I was on my own, in an unfamiliar territory. Alone, in a hole somewhere, closed off from civilisation. My eyes had a tough time adjusting to the shadows that swallowed me up entirely. My attempts to ascertain clues that would help to decipher my location proved a frivolous task. The silence was my only companion.

All in all, I had not a grain of food, not a drop of water. No way of gauging where I was taken or how to get out. No way of telling how long I'd been here, though I easily discerned that it was concrete based room. A concrete box — but how would that help me? How would knowing any of that help the three little ones gestating within me? It wouldn't.

I chuckled humorlessly, pressing my chapped lips together, applying moisture to them. In this spell, it was imperative to hold on to any cooling agent my body produced. Manipulating them to my advantage, for as long as it was possible.

Tangy traces of blood percolated my tastebuds, causing me to shiver slightly. An involuntary reaction, in conjunction with a memory that suddenly surfaced. Examining my jaw, I was not surprised at the stab of pain that lingered there.

It wasn't a dream!

Briefly, I wished myself unconscious again. Numb to this strange and terrifying reality. To close my eyes, and awake in the arms of the man I love. To the sensation of his arm, as it held me in place against him, in his protective shell. The sting of tears glazed my eyes at the thought, before I quickly suppressed them, willing myself to be strong. A frustrated groan escaped despite my attempt to pacify my woes.