Like he had all the time in the world and knew I had nowhere left to go.
My breath stuttered when he reached me, when his knuckle lifted my chin with devastating gentleness—forcing my face up, exposing the bruise fully to the afternoon light streaming through the windows.
"You've been covering this."
Not a question.
An accusation wrapped in dark satisfaction.
Heat flooded my cheeks, shame crawling up my throat in a wave I couldn't suppress. "It's embarrassing."
His nostrils flared slightly, jaw tightening with something primal and possessive that made my stomach drop and clench simultaneously.
"It's mine."
The proprietary edge sliced through me—hot and humiliating and unbearably intimate.
My pulse jumped visibly beneath his knuckle. And worse—far worse—warmth pooled low in my belly, spreading through my limbs like poison I'd willingly swallowed.
Something in me wanted to lean into that claim. Wanted to belong to someone so completely they'd mark me and mean it and expect the world to see what they'd done.
I hated that part of myself with volcanic intensity.
I jerked my chin free, breath coming too fast. "Don't do that."
He didn't grab me again. Didn't push. Just stood there, close enough I could feel his body heat, eyes tracking over my face with methodical precision.
Not angry.
Not commanding.
Just… looking.
Like I was a puzzle he'd been circling for months, finally close enough to examine the edges. Like I was a secret written in a language he was determined to translate, no matter how long it took.
The intensity of his focus made something deep inside me want to crack open and spill every truth I'd been hoarding in the dark.
I swallowed hard, hands clenching the counter behind me until my knuckles went white.
"Stop staring at me like that."
His mouth curved. Barely. "Like what?"
"Like you're trying to understand me."
Something shifted behind his eyes—surprise, maybe. Recognition. "Would that be so terrible?"
Yes.
Because understanding led to knowing.
And knowing led to vulnerability I couldn't afford to give him.
"Belle… I'm not good at this." His voice was soft. So uncharacteristically soft.
I crossed my arms, armor snapping back into place even as my pulse hammered traitorously against my ribs.
"At what? Kidnapping? Controlling me? Manipulating?—"
