When she’s awake, her eyes are sharp and defensive. But asleep…asleep, she looks likemine.
I lean closer. My breath grazes her forehead as I lower my lips to it. I brush them against her skin. Soft. Barely there. Her skin is warm. It makes something warm inside of me that I can’t help but fight.
I linger—just a moment. I flex my blood-splattered hand at my side, trying to keep myself still. I don’t have time to fuck her the way I want to right now. I barely have time to be sitting here.
Instead of leaving, I sit back, watching.
Tomorrow, she’ll look at me with that resistance she wears that doesn’t fail to make me hard as stone. She’ll try not to flinch when I stand too close, as eager to be near me as she is to flee. She’ll try not to show how much she listens when I speak. Low and slow, like I’m teaching her a lesson.
So eager for my instruction, no matter how hard she fights it. As eager as I am to give it to her.
She shifts, and the emeralds at her throat glint against the moonlight streaming into the room.
Just a twitch beneath the blankets, but her hand slips free and grazes my thigh.
It’s nothing—barely a touch. But it jolts through me like a live current.
I stand. Too fast. The bed creaks beneath the sudden weight shift, and my heart kicks hard in my chest. I don’t move for a second, don’t breathe. She stirs, just a murmur, her lips parting slightly. But she doesn’t wake.
I clench my fists.
That shouldn’t have rattled me.
She’s asleep. Unconscious. Completely unaware. And yet I’m the one frozen, standing over her like some half-starved animal who can’t decide whether to protect her or devour her.
I take a step back. Then another.
Her scent is still all over me. Crisp apples. Warm skin. Faint, clean cotton. She smells like softness, like something breakable. I want it gone. I want it off my skin, out of my lungs, scrubbed from every corner of my brain.
Because it’s inside me now. This obsession.
It’s eating me alive. I don’t know if I should kill the obsession by killingher. This is why I can’t trust her; I don’t trust myself when I’m around it. It’s too much, and not enough all at once.
I drag a hand through my hair and lunge forward before I can stop myself, ripping the sheets from her warm body and slapping my hand over her mouth.
Her scream is muffled by my hand over her lips, tight and menacing. I don’t want her to scream out too loud. She struggles with desperation to shove me off of her, but I’m much, much bigger. Her glazed and confused eyes can’t adjust to the dark, and I can see her frantically trying to see my face that’s just a few inches from her own.
“Shhh, darling, it’s okay,” I tut, clenching my palm roughly across her face. I wrap my other hand in her hair and pull roughly, baring her throat for me. Leaning down slowly with as much restraint as I can bear, I smell her, dragging my nose along her skin in sweet reverence, letting her scent fill my lungs while she wriggles beneath me.
Standing up with her in my arms, one hand still over her mouth and the other holding her by her waist against my chest in a vice-like grip, I grab her roughly and make my way to my bedroom.Our bedroom, and throw her on the bed.
She’s stopped thrashing as much now that she knows it’s me, but I can’t help that I prefer it when she’s overcome with fear—time to put it back in her.
“I’m going to remove my hand, and you’re going to behave,” I say darkly, amusing myself with the venom that’s climbed into my voice, full of hate and desire. I’m sure she detests the request, which is always required of her. Honestly, I prefer her undone, but the only way I can see that side of her is to try to control her reactions. Control her until she can’t help but defy me.
I’m as confused as she is, but for reasons far different than hers. I can’t fucking stand it. She steals away my control.
Her brows furrow as she nods delicately against my hand, making me smirk. I remove my palm.
She seems confused. The pill makes her fight a bit awkward and slightly delayed. The muscle relaxers are doing their intended job. I don’t want her to fight tonight. And I want her body to heal. There is so much more I’d like to do to her.
I’m not trying to make her an addict, but I am perfectly curating the pills her body needs to recover. To be perfect for me. My perfect mess.
I want to fuck her up. I need her to be able to take it. The monster inside me can only hold back so much.
“Now you’re going to open your mouth and stick out your tongue,” I instruct coldly, watching her suck in a breath with that confused and glazed look that dances across her face.
“I will do no such thing.” She somehow manages to say tartly, even in her disoriented state—she slurs a bit.
