“You promised you’d keep me.”
“I’ll keep you.”
“You promised you’d stay quiet.”
“I’ll stay quiet.”
“You promised you’d stay with me in the quiet place.”
“I’ll stay with you in the quiet place.”
His breath stutters, his grip dragging the chain tighter, winding the cold links until they cut me deeper, drawing a thin line of fire across my skin. “You’re mine.”
I don’t hesitate. There is no room for hesitation when you’re drowning. “I’m yours.”
His teeth scrape my pulse, sharp and filthy, leaving a mark that saysProperty of the Dark.“You’ve always been mine.”
I nod, dizzy, desperate, fucking starving for him. “I’ve always been yours.” Even if I don’t remember why. Even if I don’t know when the contract was signed in blood and silence.
His mouth crashes to mine, savage and claiming, locking me down with every sharp drag of his teeth, with every filthy pull of his tongue, with every broken promise that stitches itself back into me whether I want it or not. His hands fist in my hair, pulling my head back so I’m forced to face the intensity of his obsession.
“You’ll beg me to keep you.”
“Keep me.”
His voice fractures. “Fucking beg.”
“Please.” I grind against the chain, against his lap, against the brutal ache he’s carved into me. “Please, Damien.”
“Please what?”
“Please keep me.”
His grip bruises. His teeth bite. His fucking laugh breaks like it’s the only thing keeping him alive, a jagged, hollow sound. “You’re already mine.”
His mouth drags over my throat, over my pulse, down to the scar that burns under his palm. “You’ll stay in the quiet place with me.”
“I’ll stay.”
“Say it again.”
“I’ll fucking stay.”
His breath splits, a ragged sound. “You won’t forget me this time.”
I shake my head, desperate, starving, losing my fucking mind to the sensory overload of him. “I won’t forget you.”
His tongue drags over the scar like it’s his mark, like he’s tasting the very trauma that binds us. “You won’t leave me again.”
I press myself harder into him, trying to fuse our skin together. “I’ll never fucking leave you.”
And I mean it. Even if I don’t know why. Even if I don’t know what the quiet place is. Even if I don’t know what I forgot. Because I want to stay. Because I want to be his. Because I think I always was, even when I was miles away, even when I was living a life that didn’t belong to me.
His hands slam into my waist, dragging me harder into his lap like he’s done waiting, like he’s done begging for crumbs of a memory I can’t find. His grip bruises. His breath hits the side of my throat, sharp and filthy.
“You’re mine.” His voice tears through me. “You’re not fucking leaving.”
“I’m not leaving.” The words rip out of me fast, frantic, because I need him to know. Because I need him to fucking ruin me for anyone else.
