“No, baby girl,” I growl, pressing harder, forcing her to feel the unshakable rage, the obsession burning through my grip. “You don’t get to walk. You don’t get to choose. I own you now. Every breath, every thought, every filthy sound you make is mine.”
Her sob hitches, a sound caught between fear and something far darker.
“You think I don’t want you?” My forehead presses to hers, voice dropping to a violent whisper. “I didn’t want this. I fought it. But it’s too late now. You’re in my blood. You’re in my fucking bones. You’re the one thing I can’t put down, and if you ever try to leave—” my lips brush hers, threatening, desperate, brutal— “I’ll burn the entire world down just to drag you back.”
She trembles in my grip, her tears sliding hot over my fingers. My chest heaves, my heart pounding against hers like it’s already chosen for both of us.
Her breath breaks against my mouth, trembling lips wet under my grip. The fight drains out of her all at once, like her body can’t hold it anymore. The tears keep coming, silent now, sliding down her chin and over my knuckles.
“I hate you,” she whispers, but it’s wrecked, collapsing, not even close to hate. Her eyes squeeze shut, shoulders shuddering as she shakes her head against my hand. “I hate you because I still want you. Because I can’t stop wanting you.”
She pounds her fists against my chest. “I fucking hate you.” Tears crawl down her face and I just want to wrap her inside my arms and never let her go. “I fucking hate you…’ she gasps. “I didn’t want this, I didn’t want to feel…this. I don’t fucking hate you, I love you.”
The words scrape out of her throat like glass. “Even after what I saw, even knowing what you are—I still want you. And it’s killing me. Because I don’t belong here, Dean. I don’t belong in your world.”
For a second, the whole alley goes silent. The bass from the club dulls to a hum, the city noise fades into nothing. Just her. Just me. Her broken confession ripping me in half.
I lean in, tightening my hold on her jaw until her lips part on a shaky gasp. My voice is a gravelled snarl, low enough to vibrate against her teeth.
“You think you don’t belong here? Baby girl—you’re the only fucking thing that belongs to me.”
Her sob breaks on a sharp inhale, eyes flying open, glassy and desperate.
“You want the truth?” I hiss, crushing my body against hers, every inch of me pressed so deep she can feel my heart hammering in my ribs. “I don’t give a damn about anything but you, hate me. I’ll be right there with you. Because you’re mine. And I’ll never fucking let you go.”
Her breath trembles, her hands twitching helplessly between us, like she wants to push me away and cling to me at the same time.
“You don’t get to say you don’t fit,” I bite out, dragging my thumb across her tear-slick bottom lip, forcing it down so her mouth stays open under mine. “Because I’ll make you fit. I’ll carve out every part of this life that doesn’t want you and bleed it dry until the only thing left standing is me and you.”
Her sob shatters into a whimper, her nails digging into my shirt, clutching instead of pushing now.
“Say it,” I order, breath ragged, my forehead pressed hard against hers. “Say you’re mine. Right here, right now. Or I swear I’ll remind you until you can’t even breathe without the taste of me in your lungs.”
Her lips tremble under my thumb, the smallest sound spilling past them—a wrecked, whisper-shattered, “I’m yours.”
And it feels like the universe just fell into place.
Her whisper still hangs between us, fragile and trembling. I’m yours.
It ignites me.
The grip I have on her jaw shifts, dragging her face up as my mouth crashes down on hers—rough, unrelenting, nothing tender about it. Her tears salt my tongue, her lips parting with a broken sound that I swallow whole. She’s crying and kissing me at the same time, and it’s the most beautiful, fucked-up thing I’ve ever tasted.
I shove her back into the brick wall, caging her in with my body, my palm splayed against her throat—not choking, just holding, reminding her who owns the air she’s trying to breathe.
“You don’t walk away after that,” I growl against her lips, teeth scraping the swollen curve of her mouth. “You don’t get to tell me you’re mine and then think you can run. I’ll fuck the thought of leaving out of your body right here if I have to.”
Her sobs break into shaky gasps as my hands drag down, finding the hem of her skirt, yanking it up rough enough to tear the seams. Her thighs tremble, but when I spread them with my knee, she doesn’t fight—she clutches at me, nails carving into my shoulders through the fabric.
“You came here to test me?” I rasp, grinding her hips into the wall, pinning her in place while my fingers shove her underwear aside. “To see if I’d fall for another warm body? Brooklyn, look at me.”
Her eyes lift, wide and wet, lashes clumped from tears.
“I could’ve had any of them,” I snarl, pressing two fingers into her wet pussy, sharp and punishing. She gasps, biting her lip, but the sound escapes anyway. “But none of them are you. And I’d rather die with your name on my tongue than live a thousand nights inside anyone else.”
Her body jerks under the pressure of my hand, her sobs catching, torn between fury and need.
I press harder, curling my fingers until her knees buckle, until she’s hanging off my arm, forehead slamming back against the brick.
