“So you locked me in here to protect me?” I ask, my heart latching onto that possibility.
He kisses me deeply. “I will always protect you. I was protecting you before I even knew your name.”
He smiles, and I remember how he didn’t even know who I was after he’d kidnapped me. But he was aware of my existence before. He’d been watching.
“You saw me on the surveillance cameras? You knew I was stealing stuff?”
He strokes my hair. “You could never be invisible from me, my little shoplifter. Why do you think no one ever stopped you?”
Right. The thought that he’s been watching me does something to me, and it’s not exactly fear. I feel myself growing wet.
“How long? How long were you watching?”
“About a year.”
My eyes widen even as arousal pools between my legs. I blurt out the question that burns my lips. “Would it have happened anyway? The abduction?”
For the first time, he hesitates. Then he murmurs, “I don’t think so, no. I guess you were right. I’m not that kind of man.”
Unexpectedly, it’s not relief that courses through my veins. It’s a sense of loss.
“But,” he adds, folding me in his arms, “I would have found a way to possess you anyway. You’re mine, and you always have been.”
22
Damien
As usual, when I come tonight, I find her sitting primly on the couch, waiting for me. Maybe if she knew what I have planned for her, she wouldn’t wait quite so calmly.
I was conflicted after our conversation last night. Unexpectedly happy to connect with her on some deeper level, but also scared. Maybe I shouldn’t have told her.
Because the rat hasn’t been found, and someone has alotof information. Maybe even access to the cameras. I’ve checked and double-checked, and it doesn’t seem possible. And yet, the rat has an impossible level of information.
Whoever stole the nanochip must have been aware that Seraphina knew nothing about it. And it feels plausible that now, they’re aware shedoesknow.
I’ve just planted a big motherfucking red X on her back. If anything happens to her, I’ll have only myself to blame.
The responsible thing might just be to disconnect the feed to her apartment, since I’m worried someone might be accessing it.But I’ve never been all that responsible. Plus, disconnecting the feed means not being able to watch her. And, while I may be using the cameras to satisfy my stalkerish tendencies, they also allow me to protect her.
I’ve never been one to be indecisive, and this whole situation is frustrating the hell out of me.
Especially because the constant worry is making me realize something very annoying. I care.
And I’m not supposed to. At least, not like that.
She belongs to me. I’ve never had any intention to start chatting with her, not in any meaningful way, at least, and I’m not about to start now.
Tonight, she’ll remember who owns her. I’ll make sure of it.
Before she’s even had time to greet me, I lift her effortlessly and toss her onto the bed, a little harder than I mean to. I search for the handcuffs I know are hidden behind a concealed zipper in the headboard. All our beds are made to order like that, because you never know. Though I haven’t used them on another girl since I became obsessed with her last year. And I haven’t felt the need to use them on her either. She’s always so submissive in bed, but tonight I want to explore her limits.
In a flash, I’ve imprisoned her wrists in the cuffs, though I know she wouldn’t move if I told her not to. But seeing her helpless like this does something to me.
I’ve laid her down on her stomach this time. I don’t want to look her in the eye. Her sweet little face has been on my mind far too much lately. I don’t want her to talk to me. I don’t want to answer, and I know I would.
Every time I close my eyes, I see that upturned face, asking me questions, begging for kisses. I’m not supposed to give. I’m Damien Fucking Wells. Itake.
But I can feel myself falling, further and further, into some strange emotional state, and I need to put a stop to it. When her violet eyes aren’t filling my dreams, Vale’s hungry ones are haunting my nightmares. I need to take control. I’m slipping.
