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His eyes barely have time to widen that I’ve already taken hold of his right wrist, slamming his hand flat on the dresser. A split second later, I’m violently forcing the fork through his hand, impaling him to the furniture.
His scream is piercing. It would truly be heartbreaking to someone who gives a fuck.
“Holy shit!” Kay gasps, falling back from the shock as I turn to her. Catching herself on her hands, she crawls backward on the mattress until she hits the headboard.
“Get up,” I order smoothly.
“You’re insane!” She scrambles to the side opposite me, but before she can go anywhere, I grab the chain attached to her ankle, pulling her right back.
“What is wrong with you?” she cries out as I drag her across the bed. “You fucking kidnapped me, forced a ring on me, and keep repeating how much you want to punish me, but now you want to act like a jealous bastard?”
“This isn’t jealousy,” I explain as I grab her ankle, pull some more, and then take hold of the shirt, pulling her into a standing position. “This is an assertion of ownership.”
I take the knife from the platter with me, drag her to the wall next to the bed, and push her face first against it.
“Can you see alright, Daniel?” I ask, worried about his view of the show.
“Please,” he whimpers, voice raw from crying. “It hurts…it hurts, please take it out!” His free hand hovers around the handle of the fork, but he can’t get himself to touch it.
“Answer the question,” I insist. Kay tries to shrug me off her, but I pin her to the wall with a hand at the back of her neck. “You stay still, my darling sunflower.”
“What the fuck are you doing?” she barks back at me. “Let me go.”
“Don’t make me tape your mouth shut. Put your hands flat on the wall.”
She’s incredibly predictable when she doesn’t, and instead tells me to go fuck myself. I press the knife at her throat and repeat my order. Everyone is always set on making me waste my time.
“Kayla, hands on the wall. Now.”
Left without a choice, she places her hands on either side of her head. They don’t even shake, what with the brave little thing she is.
“Now, Daniel. Watch.” With the knife, I point at the diamond shining around Kay’s finger. “See this? This means I own her ass.”
I tighten my grip on my fiancée, having to remind myself how this whole thing started. My heart is beating a little faster than usual, and I’m finding it harder to think, as if the control I have on my feelings is slipping through my fingers. My thoughts are like trying to grab a fistful of water.
Oh, yes. The picture.
“That means no spending time with her more than necessary. That means no taking pictures of her. I don’t care if she’s wearing nothing or a ski suit. I don’t care if her face is in it, her cunt, her little pinky. No. Pictures. Of. My. Fiancée.”
Turning back to Kay, I make sure to talk in her ear. My frustration turns to anger, and it shocks me when I hiss, “I own your ass, is that clear?”
“You’re hurting me,” she grunts back, just so she can avoid answering.
I don’t doubt I am with how hard my hand is pinching the back of her neck and the way I press her throat against the wall, forcing her face into an awkward angle.
“I know.” I smile brightly at her. “Try not to get too wet.”
I slide my hand down, fisting the shirt so the hem lifts all the way to her lower back. “I see you found the underwear drawer. Keep your hands on the wall.”
With the hand holding the knife, I drag her silk thong all the way to her mid-thighs.
“Stay still, little sunflower. I would hate to make this worse than it has to be.”
She attempts to look back, neck straining, and I watch her eyes round as I press the tip of the knife to her left ass cheek.
“Nate!” she shrieks. When blood pearls on her porcelain skin, a sense of relief washes over me. This is already feeling better.
I drag the blade down, relishing the peace it brings me.
