“When we get into the battle, Princess.” He licked his lower lip. “Doesn’t matter how quick you run or where you hide, I’m going to find you. Then you and I are going to have a nice longchat.”
“Oh, no thank you, I’m going to be busy that day.”
“You’re mine.”
“I’m not.”
“Your throat is mine.” His fingers pressed tight against the veins on my neck. “Your mouth is mine, your arms are mine, your legs are mine, your belly button is mine. And your heart? That organ belongs tome.”
“I don’t think so. I haven’t seen your name written anywhere on me—oh.”
He lifted up the sleeve on his arm, exposing a tattoo scrawled across his outer bicep. It was a portrait of myself with my hair out. Underneath my very generous sized looking chest scrawled ‘Delphine,’ in cursive.
“You’ve gotmyname on your body,” I said. “So, technically, you belong to me.”
“Yes.”
“Not the other way around.”
“No, you also belong to me.”
“Ah, no, it doesn’t work like that.”
“I am yours; you are mine.”
“No—”
He squeezed my throat to stop more words from coming out. The choke was insufferably perfect. I dug my nails into the back of his hand. “You dare chase me and I won’t miss your axillary artery next time. Also, can you squeeze a little harder?”
“You and me, we’re going to have a fun time.”
His wicked smile promised violent intent and yet I could not focus on anything besides where his eyes might be. The upper half of his face was smothered in dark. I bored my sight into it, searching the shadows.
“You, uh,” I cleared my throat, “You don’t happen to be wearing your heart-shaped sunglasses?”
His lips fell. A frown. “No. Why?”
I glared at where his eyes would be, drawing the shape of the sunglasses over his face, reminiscing. “No reason.”
His thumb brushed over my jugular again.
That single stroke sent me into hallucination and I rubbed my thighs furiously together. “Let me go, I need to masturba—urinate. I need to urinate.”
His hand released my throat and he walked back into the shadows of the cell.
Fixing my collar I bit into my lip, chewing on the soft flesh, impatient for privacy in whatever bed I might be given. There was just one more thing I needed
“Excuse me,” I whispered into the cell. “Awful man?”
No noise emitted, but I knew he was listening.
“Can—can you call me Princess again?”
“Princess.”
“Thank you.”
7
