Page 58 of Outcast’s Vow

“You are right,” I whisper. “You mean much more to me than just a plaything. You are not nothing to me.”

Sylvie pauses.

“I’m not?”

“You’re everything I shouldn’t want,” I say, “and everything I shouldn’t care about, and yet you’re all I ever think about.”

“Yeah?”

“And I want you to understand something,” I growl to my wife, “no other man can touch you. No one. You can’t walk away from me, not now, not when we’re tied together for the rest of our existence by the most sacred of bonds. You bear my last name, and that means everything to me.”

That’s not what I’m really saying, though, is it? It’s not that we’re tied together in some unbreakable vow. Instead, hidden under all my words is a simple plea.

I don’t want you to walk away.

And, going by the look on her face, it seems like my wife hears me loud and clear.

Only the tick-tick-tick of a clock somewhere in the chalet breaks the long silence that exists between us.

Sylvie swallows. Her lips rest against my finger.

“You like me?” Sylvie asks.

I can’t deny it anymore.

I take in a breath, and then...

“Yes.”

“I am not your princess, Baptiste. I am not yours to own. I’m your wife. And I’ll keep reminding you, no matter how much it drives you mad. I can walk away from you anytime I like. The thing is that I choose not to.”

I let my finger drop.

“You’re choosing not to?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re going to keep reminding me you’re my wife?”

“Yes.”

“Then how about you show me?”

She lifts her chin.

“Maybe I will.”

“And you know what I need to do?” I ask her.

Sylvie glares at me. She’s so small, standing so close. I glare down at her. Her pupils are dilated. She’s excited. She can’t hide it.

Our lips are so close.

She hangs her mouth slightly open. It’s so inviting.

“What do you need to do, Baptiste?”

I don’t move.