His hand tightens on mine, then slides up to my wrist, the touch possessive. He’s marking me, same way he did in the woods, but it’s more real here. There are more witnesses, even if they can’t see us.
Imagine the scandal.
“They think they own you,” he says, voice a rasp. “They think they can use you to get to me. Make me weak. Compliant.”
I snort, “You’re not weak.”
His mouth flickers, almost a smile. “Not for them.”
The silence is different now. Less like a trap, more like a dare.
I turn away, look down at the grass. The balcony is higher than I thought. It would hurt to fall, but maybe not enough.
He moves behind me, the heat of his body right at my back.
I flinch, just a little.
He leans in, his breath at my ear. “You’re shaking.”
I shake my head, but it’s true.
He wraps both arms around me, trapping my hands against the rail. His grip is tight, but it doesn’t hurt.
“Are you cold?” he asks.
I shrug. “Maybe.”
He doesn’t buy it. “You’re scared.”
It’s not a question.
I nod, because lying now would be pointless.
“Of what?”
I swallow, but my mouth is dry. “That they’ll never stop.”
“They won’t,” he says, blunt as a hammer. “But it won’t matter. I won’t ever let them touch you again, Eve. If there hadn’t have been a hundred eyes on us, that pompous prick wouldn’t have hands.”
I turn, search his face for the cruelty, the joke. There’s none. Just hunger, steady and bottomless.
“They’re probably watching,” I whisper.
He nods. “They do appreciate a good show.”
His mouth is at my jaw, soft and hot. He doesn’t kiss, just breathes there, lips a hair from my skin. His arms tighten, until I can feel his pulse in every finger.
“You belong to me,” he says, low.
I want to say no. I want to bite back, spit the word like a curse. But I can’t. I don’t want to.
I just want to feel safe for a second.
“Your soul belongs to me.”
He presses his body to mine, every inch hard and sure. The railing bites into my thighs, but I don’t move.
“Your body belongs to me.”
