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“It was years ago,” she protests.
“You think you were the last? Men don’t change. All they do is wait to show themselves again.”
With a harsh swallow, her tears fall, slipping down her cheeks. Her body sags slightly and she looks anywhere but at me.
“This isn’t what I wanted,” I confess to her, an anxiousness I’m not used to overwhelming me. “What do you need from me?”
She answers me quickly enough, “I don't know.”
“I need you to think of something because I don’t think you’re going to enjoy my response if you don’t give me something to do right now.” The floor creaks as I stop in front of her, my faces inches from hers as I grip her chin and bring her dark brown eyes back to mine.
They beg me, but I don’t know what for.
“I don’t know,” she says just beneath her breath.
“Come here,” I command, opening up my arms. I don’t know what she mourns for. The loss of a former lover, or the knowledge that her current is a murderer, either way, she seeks comfort in my grasp.
My arms fold around her as she buries her head into my chest. Kissing her hair, I murmur to her that she’s a good girl for obeying.
Her body trembles and I rock her slightly as she calms herself.
“Are you scared?” I ask her the moment her breaths are even.
“I don’t know.”
“You’re going to need to know something, my little pet.” Pulling away just slightly, I force her to look up at me. “You're smarter than this,” I tell her.
“More shocked than scared.” Her gaze drops before coming back up to confide in me, “But yes, you scare me.” I can barely breathe at her admission.
“Will you miss him?” My hand cups her cheek and with her answer, her small hand lays against mine.
“No.”
“Did you think I should have let him live after hurting you?” With my question her hand drops, and I hate it.
“You can’t go around killing—”
“Yes I can. And I will.” My tone is brutal and it seems to strike her. Again, I hate it. Anger brims. She didn’t even need to find out the man was dead. He was meant to disappear and be gone forever. My declaration is final. “Any man who hurts you, won’t live to do it again.”
She doesn’t cry, she doesn’t object. She doesn’t even appear to hold on to fear as my words register.
“If we’re going to do this, my little pet, you’re going to have to get very comfortable with a number of very uncomfortable things. I’m not changing and you knew who I was. I know you did. So let that sink in. If you’re mine, then what I am is yours. There’s no compromise there. I thought we already covered this. Braelynn, do you know who I am?” I ask her and she merely nods, her eyes still searching mine.
“And do you know who you are to me?”
“Your pet,” she whispers.
“You are mine to take care of, and I will do that in the way I know how. Do you understand?”
With her eyes still reddened, but the tears long gone, she answers, “Yes.”
“Now come here, or walk away. This is the last time I offer you that. Is that also understood?” I can’t explain why the invitation to leave me slipped out. I wish I could take it back. Nervousness pricks at the back of my neck as she answers, “Yes.”
I take a half step back, unwilling to turn around. I’m all too aware that I’m scared if I were to turn my back, she could run.
“I will not hurt you or chase you if you decide to—”
“I’m not leaving you.” She swallows thickly, her hands closing into fists before opening again. She looks back up at me, “I knew who you were.” Her voice tightens and she clears it.
