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His voice is a little mean and makes my heart flip over in my chest.
I don’t want him to be mean to me.
Panic swells up as he eases down, sliding his hand around my throat, forcing me close as he comes down on top of me.
“Who do you belong to, Sophie?”
“You,” I whisper.
It feels like an absolute betrayal to myself, but I know it’s what he wants to hear, and I want to give him what he wants so he isn’t mean to me.
The warmth in his voice drizzles through my veins and kindles heat between my thighs. “Mm, that’s a good girl. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. But you knew that, didn’t you? You’re always willing to placate me when I scare the living fuck out of you.”
That’s an uncomfortable thing to hear, but I guess it’s not untrue.
“I’m never sure you mean it, though, that’s the thing. Can I trust you once the words have been spoken? Or are you just saying whatever you have to say to get away with as little damage as possible? Are we running in circles, Sophie?”
I swallow, but don’t say a word.
Taking my silence as insufficient reassurance, apparently, he speaks again, his breath hot against my ear. “Do you know what I would do to a man if he touched you?”
His voice is like poisoned silk held over my mouth, the toxicity invading my senses and making me light-headed. I swallow, but I can’t speak.
“I would rip him limb from limb. I don’t mean that metaphorically, either. I would literally sever any part of him that touched you from his fucking body.”
His words intensify my fear but pull me closer to him as if seeking his protection.
From him?
Absurd, but it feels reliable.
He’s angry right now, but I’m not truly afraid he would hurt me. Whatever faults he has, I know how much Silvan values me. Even though it feels mildly psychotic to admit this even to myself, I even believe he might love me.
Or at least think he does.
And I know Silvan would protect me from any threat. I know that in my bones.
Maybe that’s why I feel the rush of fear and the familiar tightness in my chest, but it never escalates to a full-blown panic attack. Mere memories can send me into one, but actually being held down, threatened, and used by Silvan doesn’t.
“Now, I’m not going to keep repeating myself, Sophie. I’m going to tell you this once, so I suggest you remember it, because my promise has no expiration date. You belong to me, and I’m an only child, baby; I can’t share for shit. If another man ever touches you, I will torture him and make you watch. Depending on how thoroughly you’ve pissed me off, I might let you leave the room before the grand finale, but know that it would end with me cutting off all the parts of him you might have liked and then standing on his throat as he gurgled his own blood. His last fucking words would be begging me for mercy, and I would not feel one single bit of fucking remorse as I withheld it and watched him die. I would come to you and fuck you with his blood spatter still on my body, so please, Sophie, for your sake, take me seriously. I don’t have my father’s patience, and I don’t want to break you.”
His words stir images that make me feel queasy.
I might not believe most guys saying something so crazy, but I believe him.
From that first night when he was dressed up as a Viking, I sensed something authentically brutal in him. It’s not something that’s overbearing most of the time, but it comes awake when he feels threatened.
I’m his prized possession, the thing he’ll defend at all costs. Kill for if he must.
That shouldn’t turn me on, but I can’t deny the aching need I feel for him at this moment.
When he pulls his hips back and drives into me again, I gasp, reaching back to grab his neck and pull him closer. He growls with approval, scraping the sensitive skin along the back of my neck with his teeth as he bites me, then kisses me all over. Leaning his face into the curve of my neck, he breathes me in.
“You smell like me,” he whispers, then he licks my skin and his hot tongue ignites my nerve endings, triggering an explosion of white-hot lust in my brain.
His words resonate through my body, that possessive, proprietary tone of his that makes me feel owned. He fucks me harder, and I feel it everywhere. I feel suffocated by him, overwhelmed by him, but it’s oddly reassuring.
He’ll never let me leave.
