14. CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Tyler

S he's not wrong.

Smudges of her red lipstick paint the skin around her lips. Her nostrils flare. The flames of hell burn behind her blue eyes.

And she's not wrong.

My cock isn't any less hard for the truths Dahlia spits in my face.

"It's you who's never wanted to leave me, as much as I want you. Stop hiding, Tyler. Just stop it."

Another second of her talking, and I'll die. Another second of not kissing her, and my heart will stop beating.

A hand on her cheek and my lips crash onto her red-painted ones. Smearing more of her lipstick. Groaning when she bites on my lip.

"I am, even when I know better." My words are chopped between kisses. I don't believe them. I don't want to believe them. "When I know you won't survive this. When I'll have to be around you every waking second, and even then, I could still lose you."

"Why?" she moans while I slide my hand to the snake in her neck. When I dig my fingers into her skin. "Why do you keep saying that?"

I bite her neck on the other side, sucking on her. Her skin smells of sugar, vanilla, and death. Hands at her waist now, my thumbs shove beneath her sweater, beneath her shirt. Finding her skin. She's warm. Her stomach is made of curves and softness and home .

"I'm losing my mind."

I love you. I need you. I've never been as happy as I am at this very moment. Trapping you.

Torturing you.

And it won't last. It can't.

Pain. Regret. Sorrow. I feel them all. I'm so truly, epically sorry for what life and I have done to Dahlia.

None of those stop me as I brush my fingers on her stomach.

"You're stuck in the past." Lust and love drown some of the anger in her voice. "Let it go, Ty. Put it behind us already."

"I'll never be able to." The button of her jeans slides through the loop without a fight. "Neither of us could. Bad shit will happen. There's no running from that. We could never run from that."

Her hands are in my hair, and I groan at how good it feels. At how insanely right it is to have her body pressed to mine .

"You're here. You said you'll save me." Half-moan, half-growl. "Nothing bad will happen. If you stayed. Stay. Please, stay."

I could do something about it, other than order her. Like slap my hand over her lips. Put my mouth to hers. Fill it with my cock. I don't. I do the opposite. Poke the beast. I'm fucking unstable, and I need her to stop pitying me. I need more of her fight.

Every ounce of it.

"I don't love you, Dahlia."

"You're a fucking liar."

My words don't faze her. There's no hurt in her eyes, only fight. Only what I wanted her to give me.

I unbutton her jeans, push her zipper down. Her nails drag on the sides of my head, her eyes darkening. When I tug on her bottom lip between my teeth, she makes a sound that drives me wild.

She sees my sickness, my need to hurt her. She embraces it.

She shares it with me.

I tear myself from her. I have to. Her clothes have to go.

Her body is mine.

She's mine, this beautiful, unhinged woman.

Mine.

My fingers hook on the hems of her sweatshirt and shirt. I don't just lift them off her body. I touch her while I push the offensive clothes up. My knuckles run along her smooth stomach, the area just south of her bra .

Dahlia lets out a low hum when I pause there. When I shove my thumbs under the wires of her bra. Beneath the cups. Rubbing the undersides of her breasts.

"You've been dying to fuck me." She's not asking. Not being sweet. My little savage is being the person I pushed her to be tonight. Herself, demanding more of my honesty. "Ever since I was seventeen."

My eyes cut to hers, cock thickening at the sight of her pink cheeks. Her pillowy lips and the smudged lipstick.

I can't stop teasing her. Can't get enough of her fight. "You're sure about that?"

Her sweatshirt and shirt go up her body in one violent tug. They slide up her arms, then over her head.

"Yes," she pants, reaching for my hoodie. I bat her hand away. "That day in the shower. You stopped resisting me."

That shower.

"No idea what you're talking about." Next, come the cups of her bra. I shove them down, bending to bite one of her nipples like I never could before. Groan at the moans I've only dared dream of. "I didn't touch you that way. Didn't kiss you that way."

"You didn't have to," Dahlia manages to say through her tormented cry. Her hands are on my shoulders. My jaw. "I saw you."

She pulls me up, and I go, wrapping my hands around her throat. With my thumbs, I tip her head up until we're staring at each other. Until she's ensnared in my gaze.

"What is it you think you saw? "

The heat from her body is intoxicating. Being the sole focus of her attention is a heady feeling. I wonder if the people she kills feel what I do. That high, right before she ends their lives.

I'm so fucking jealous that I have to push it out of my head.

"You were hard, Tyler."

To emphasize her words, she does what I never let her do back then. Cups my cock through my jeans. Rubs me. Squeezes me. Makes me curse.

"So what if I was hard?" I shove her head to the side. Bury my face in her neck and wrap an arm around her back, yanking her to me. "I didn't take you. It didn't mean a thing." I meant everything. "But you'll feel it when I take you tonight. And you're going to wish I hadn't."

I'm not sold on that last part. By the way Dahlia's writhing for me, I'm starting to think she'll love every second of it.

"You were this close to breaking. To being mine." Dahlia is a pro at ignoring me. "That counts. I need you to say it. That you wanted me. That I haven't been imagining things all these years."

It gets me harder, her insistence. I let her undo the button of my jeans, then my fly. I don't care that she's not fighting me. I'll make it hurt. Soon enough, she'll be a sobbing mess for me.

"You haven't," I grit out.

Her satisfaction is brief. I can feel more accusations coming when she presses her back into the wall instead of leaning into me. Quiet instead of moaning when I pinch her nipple and suck on her neck .

"Then I turned eighteen. You still didn't touch me." Those aren't accusations. It's her bleeding heart doing the talking. The soft side of me bleeds right next to hers. "That Halloween morning, before you left for work, you wanted to fuck me. And you didn't."

I can tell where she's headed with this. Of course, I can. I was there.

In her apartment. Breaths labored. Cock heavy between my legs. Tightness around my chest. A relentless pull at my heart.

She was losing it, and I carried her to the shower, same as always. I turned on the water, waited for her eyes to tell me she was okay. Once Dahlia was back, I left her a change of clothes. Stormed out of her apartment. Raced up to mine.

I hadn't dated for years at that point. Hadn't looked at anyone else. Dahlia and my grandma were my priority, then Dahlia became my obsession.

Her eighteenth birthday didn't change a goddamn thing. It was too taboo. Too wrong to have her. She'd been my ward until that birthday. I'd been her guardian.

And I. Wanted. Her. I was hot all fucking over, all the time. Only her.

"You weren't in the apartment when I came out of the shower."

Nope. I had to come. I had to be able to think and not assault her.

I don't confirm or deny it. I touch her. I manhandle her. With the front of her body pressed to the wall, one of her blue eyes narrows at me. Dark and accusing and borderline crazy .

"You went up there to fuck your fist. Your fist . Not me. Your fucking hand. Why?"

Her attitude. I have to put her in her place and worship her and dammit—my cock is so hard.

"Little savage." One hand on her face, keeping her there. The other shoves her jeans and panties to the floor. "You've tested my patience one too many times tonight."

"Patience?" That taunting. That tease. "What patience?"

"You really shouldn't have said that."

I'm not gentle when I press her face harder into the wall. I wish I could be. I wish I could use the other one to massage her clit. Draw a sweet orgasm out of her. Then another.

Like any other loving person would.

I haven't been like other people goddamn long while. Don't know if I'll ever be.

Dahlia's full lips part. She's about to draw in a breath. To gasp. The anticipation is killing her.

The wait is over , I want to tell her.

I'm beyond talking.

Every nerve ending in my body burns for her. Every piece of my tattered heart wants to leap out to Dahlia. Our souls weave together like some kind of fucked-up human quilt.

She's pliant in my hold, moaning when I yank her hips up with one hand. When I bare her dripping pussy to me.

"What should I have said?" Dahlia can hardly speak. Not with the way I'm forcing her face to the wall. "Daddy?"

I hook my arm around her front, slapping her pussy three times. Her cries of pain aren't loud enough. The beast in me demands more. More of everything .

"Begging me to hurt you." Five extra slaps and tears start rolling down her cheek. "See how well you take this." Slap. Slap. Slap . "How much you enjoy pain when Daddy delivers it."

Hurt flashes in her eye all of a sudden. Sadness eclipses her taunting smile.

Something inside her has cracked.

"Dahlia." I bend over her, rubbing her swollen clit.

"It hurt the worst when you left." Her tears land on my palm. She pouts, as if she's just noticed it now. As if they offend her. She blinks, willing them to stop. "I won't ever not love you, but I can't take you walking out on me again. If this whole possessive shit is bullshit, I don't consent to this. To any of it."

For years, this woman has murdered people. Probably tortured them for the heck of it. They must have cried in pain when she took out her anger with life on them. Probably begged for their mommies.

None of what they've been through compares to her words. Her pain. What she's doing to me.

As I stare into her eyes, I see it. I did it. I put that pain there.

I don't want to leave. I want everything.

I'm too fucked to know how to ask for it like a decent human being.

"I don't remember asking for your consent, Dahlia." Three fingers inside her wet pussy are proof that I mean what I say. This is only the tip of the iceberg. "I'll do whatever I fucking please with you."

She's so tight. Hot and wet and sucking me in while she fights me .

"No." Her eyebrows shoot down. She wrestles me, resisting my unyielding grip. "If you plan to leave, get the fuck off me."

It would be the right thing to do. Desecrate her. Claim every hole in her body. Walk out the motherfucking door, never to return.

Save her.

Impossible. Won't happen.

I'll have to find another way to save her.

"Fuck that." The pressure in my cock becomes unbearable. I'm desperate to replace my fingers with it. Take Dahlia. "I own you, Dahlia. Forever. Stop resisting me."

She trembles at the words. I lower myself until I'm flat against her back. Put my mouth on her naked shoulder.

"You. Belong. To. Me." I press my thumb to her clit that's soaking for me. Rub it. Hurt her so good that her legs quiver. "Understand?"

"Tyler." My name. One breath.

She doesn't get any more of those before I throw her over my shoulder and walk us to the bed in her tiny bedroom. Smaller than my grandma's, since Dahlia's parents split the one bedroom into two. Not exactly legal, but no one comes to check up on this hellhole.

If they would've, they could've caught Al in the act. Could've put an end to the six months of torture.

They hadn't. No one had.

"Don't," she threatens as she's hanging upside down on my shoulder. "Let me go. "

"As you wish." I throw her on the bed. Reach for her sneakers. Take them off with the jeans and panties that dangle from her ankles.

She's naked. Gloriously naked. I've seen her in this state plenty of times. Have been there to witness her body changing over the years.

Never with her eyes open, though. Never with her staring at me, unhinged and ready for war and sex.

"I want you." She seethes. "I love you."

I step out of my boots. Drop my jeans and briefs and kick them off. My hoodie and T-shirt go last.

Dahlia's never seen me naked. I think. This woman is a walking, talking box of surprises. I wouldn't put it past her to break into my apartment. She did break into it while I was working.

She might've stalked me. My cock jerks at the thought. Precum wets the tip.

There'll be time to touch myself.

Her first. I spread her legs.

"You love me." She presses them together. I push them apart, kneeling between them on the bed. "Admit it, or I'll scream rape."

"Rape?" A smirk teases my lips. "You just said you loved me."

"Say it back or I'll scream rape."

My hands are on her thighs. The scent of her arousal is stronger than the hint of chocolate and blood. I'm high on it. High on the red mark I left on her breast. On looking at her spread out and welcoming and mine .

"I'll tell you what, little savage."

I move up her body. My cock rests between her pussy lips. My hands shackle her wrists, pinning her arms over her head. Our mouths almost touch.

"You—"

She flings her head up to bite my nose. I twist my head at the last second, then use my free hand to force her feisty lips open and her head back to the bed.

"First, this mouth needs to be punished."

"Fuck your punishments and—" she says awkwardly with her bottom lip pulled down. "Fuck you."

"Don't swallow until I tell you to." I spit into her mouth, pushing her lips closed. "Just listen. Just fucking listen."

Her blue eyes are icicles she wishes she could stab me with. The rest of her body is hotter than hell. The proverbial flames lick my skin.

It's more intoxicating than sugar.

More addictive than slipping into her apartment at night and painting her tits with my cum.

"I couldn't stay away after I had you. That night in your shop." At my words, her face softens. I roll my hips in a harsh, punishing rhythm, reminding her she shouldn't feel safe around me. "I can't pinpoint what it was. Can't even tell you how I found myself here tonight. But I'm here. I'm here. For one night, for one goddamn night, I need to be with you like nothing's ever happened to us. Like we're normal fucking people. I can't promise I'll be normal tomorrow. I want to give you forever, Dahlia. More than anything. But the anxiety. Fuck, I'm trying so fucking hard."

My confession angers her. She resumes her fight, wriggling and growling with my saliva still in her mouth. Doing everything in her power to push me off.

All it does is turn me on even more. I line my cock to her pussy, my muscles straining. My heart stops.

"Just the tip," I tell myself more to myself than her. Reminding myself I have more things to say before I go all the way in. "Just the tip, little savage, before you give me your consent."

Fuck, I love how flushed her face is. Fury and need look so fucking pretty on this virgin's cheeks.

"I need to fuck you. Be with you. I'll die without you," I hiss. "But I won't rape you. So, here's what we're going to do. You swallow my saliva, I stay. I'll bury myself inside you. I won't be gentle or kind, and I'll have you any way I need you. You don't swallow and I'm gone. Just like that. Know that if you choose the first option, you'll have to accept that my mind is fucked. That I can't make you any promises. That it could take me a while to be here with you, physically, all day every day. This—asking for your consent—that's the best I can offer now."

I don't tell her that I'll stalk her until the day she dies. That I'll protect her from a distance. Put myself between her and anything that could threaten her.

This part of me won't ever change.

I don't admit to things I have a hard time admitting to myself. Like the fact I drove a knife into a man's heart. More than one man. That I'd do it to anyone who so much as asked for her number .

No one's dating her. She'll be mine forever.

We'll meet in hell one day. Maybe the fire and brimstone will disintegrate our pasts and I could be one with her again.

Maybe it'll happen tomorrow.

Maybe in a million years.

Until then, I'm here. At this moment. With her.

For what seems like forever, her cheeks remain puffed. Her lips pinched together. Eyes resolute and furious.

I'm about to get up when her throat bobs. Her cheeks deflate.

"Ahh." She sticks her tongue out. There's a sharp pain from her heels digging into my ass. "I'm still angry with you, though."

My desire for her detonates from within me. Bursts in a ball of energy. If it were a real thing, it would've painted the room in the color of—

Who the hell cares?

I thrust my hips forward. Hard and fast, tearing through her hymen in one violent shove.

Her eyes narrow, lips parting, and one whispered, "Fuuuck," escapes her.

Not a single word makes it out of my throat. I watch Dahlia's pain. Marvel in it. It's sweeter and more precious than taking her virginity. More delicious than dragging my cock out, only to slam inside her deeper with far less gentleness than I have before.

"Tell me you love me." She clenches around, milking my cock. "Tell me you love me, you asshole. "

"Why? You want me to hurt you?" I fuck her. I ruin her. I love her more with each thrust. Grow more attached and inanely possessive every time she breathes my name. "I said no promises."

"You're such a jerk." Her mouth is a filthy one. I shut her up by covering it with mine, licking and tasting this serial killer that for tonight, is mine. Only mine.

"I'll tell you this," I start because I have to. Because I'm mad at the world and I despise what's happened to us. But I. Love. Her. "You're beautiful. Crazy. All wrong up there. And every one of those things fuels my obsession with you. Each and every one."

"Tyler. Oh. Oh." Her mouth rounds in the shape of an O. Her gaze is both surprise and wonder. "What the—"

She's coming. She's fucking coming. Her walls squeeze my cock. Her cunt clamps around me. I wrap a hand around her throat, choking this beautiful woman. I'm a sadistic bastard. Desperate to feel her screams reverberating on my palm.

Shivers rack through her body as she comes. She screams for me. Shudders. Shatters beneath me. Cursing and begging and crying my name as if she's never come before.

Her eyes remain locked firmly on me the entire time. Wave after wave.

I'm not done. Can't be done.

"Fuck, you're milking me." I suck on her nipple, move higher to lick the cathartic tears on her cheeks. "Your pussy is so tight. You've been waiting for me, haven't you, little savage? "

"Always." Her eyelashes are dark and heavy with tears. "Always."

My teeth trace the shape of her tattoo. Her scars. I kiss and bite them to the sound of her tortured cries. Of our bodies slapping together. I'm getting close, ready to come, but not before I see it.

Without letting go of her wrists, I lift myself off her. Look between us. Where Dahlia and I connect.

Yes. God, yes.

Blood. Her hymen all over my cock.

"It's mine." My gaze snaps to hers. The bed creaks from each forceful thrust. "Say it, Dahlia. This pussy is mine."

"This pussy is yours," she breathes. "This pussy is yours."

"Such a good girl." I don't want to say it. Don't want to lead her on. But she is. She's so fucking good for me.

My thumb is on her clit, and for a few minutes, I am this good person I once was. I rub her while I fuck her. I get lost in her gaze. Don't tell her not to look at me like that, like there's hope for us.

For a few long minutes, we're these people with no shared past. With a bright future ahead of us.

She comes for me again and I'm right there with her.

"Dahlia," I grunt with my release.

Our orgasms aren't separate. They're the same thing, much like we are. For every thrust, for every time I empty more of myself inside her, Dahlia gasps. Clenches. Milking me dry.

Saying she's exquisite is a fucking joke.

There's no one word to describe Dahlia .

There are emotions. Colors. Notions.

She's a part of me. The limb I've been missing. The only thing I want to see for the rest of my days.

Air, she's fucking air. For the past four years, each breath was a step closer to death.

With her squeezing every last drop from my cock, I feel alive .

I'm delirious with it. With the need to live. To spend million mornings and endless nights next to her.

My Dahlia.

I watch her closely. Marvel at how undead she is.

Blue vibrant eyes. The most unhinged gaze I've ever seen. Thick blonde hair that frames her cheeks. Parted, seductive lips and those fangs she flashes me.

She's not just Dahlia. She's my everything.

"Beautiful."

Her wrists aren't in my grip anymore. My hands cup her cheeks. My thumbs rub her temples in slow, methodical circles.

And I curse. Curse myself and the dread that pools in my stomach.

What if this is all temporary? A ruse?

She and I had three years of bliss. I got to take care of her and my grandma. We'd watch movies together on the weekends. She'd tell me the plans she had for her bakery. The crazy cupcakes she'd sell there.

Spiders. She had a couple of them as pets. My grandma thought it was adorable. I was convinced to pat one. No, it wasn't that bad.

Nothing was ever bad when she smiled .

Like she does now.

It didn't last.

That goddamn voice. That motherfucking, insufferable voice.

I slam my eyes shut, willing away the thousand ways she could die.

This can't be happening. This can't—

What if I just up and left? Dahlia would understand. She'll be okay. I told her I wouldn't stay.

One time doesn't count.

It doesn't. Do you hear me, universe? Don't you dare touch her.

"Tyler. Please. I'm okay. I'm here. Stay."

Sometime after I came inside Dahlia, I lowered my body to hers. Put all my weight on her.

Her hands mirror my hold on her, each of them pressed to my cheeks. Her fingers study me. Tracing the shape of my jaw. Going lower to the pulse point on my neck. Her little smile widens.

Must be the strong rush of my blood beneath her fingers.

Of course it is. We're too much alike for it not to be. And the only reason I've survived this long is her beating heart.

"We don't have to say anything." She tightens her grip. Begging. Threatening. "No promises. Nothing. You could just stay."

Staying. I don't hate the idea.

I don't hate that I came inside her, either. That I keep rolling my hips on top of her. Making sure my semen's not going anywhere other than her womb.

Don't hate any of it .

"I won't." A thrust . A kiss to her nose. "I won't stay. I'm no good for you. You deserve to live."

"I'm not on the pill." There she is, ignoring me again. Her cheeks flush. Eyes lighting up.

It's as if she's been waiting her whole life to say these words. To me.

"No, you aren't." I've been here enough times—rummaged through every drawer, lifted every pillow—to know this. "I want to fill you up with babies, little savage. It's fucked up. Reckless. So fucking reckless. But I can't help it."

"We're asking for trouble." Her eyebrows wag. Her teeth tug on her bottom lip as she hikes her hips up. "The good kind."

She's right. And I…

The thought of feeding her pussy with cum day and night until she's pregnant with my child does things to my head. I wouldn't stop with one, though. Oh, no. For as long as she lives, however short it might be, I'll pump her full of my seed. Again and again and again.

We're trouble. A goddamn mess. A steaming pile of…

No. Shit isn't a good word for us.

Here's one, though. "Dangerous. We're dangerous together. Don't you see that?"

"Beautifully dangerous."

I lean on both hands. Erect a mental and physical barrier between us.

One of us has to save her, and it has to be me.

I'll always save you .

From death. Desolation. Freak accidents that are reserved especially for the two of us.

Or maybe nothing will happen. Maybe I haven't noticed my anxiety creeping up, and now it's too late. I'm drowning in it. I'm—

I need to relax. That's what I need to do. Find a way to remember that if anyone in this world deserves a happy ending, it's Dahlia.

That I'll be the one who delivers it to her. I'll be her savior like I promised I would. I'll work for it. Work for her.

Every second of my life will be devoted to Dahlia and keeping her alive.

Her and our babies.

Our babies.

Christ. Fuck. What happens to them?

They'll be fine , a voice whispers inside my head. It's quiet. Too quiet.

It'll be stronger tomorrow. More convincing. Yes. Tomorrow.

Tomorrow, I'll be back here. Tomorrow, I'll be better. I'll be able to give her everything.

Tonight, I have to go. I have to be cruel so fate won't get the wrong message while I'm gone.

We're not happy together. If I'm mean to her, she can't be happy. She can't.

"I'm going."

"No." The hands that killed a person earlier this evening cling to my biceps. "You're not going, asshole. "

Tearing myself from her hurts more than the scratches she left on my cheek. More than when she kicked my shin. Stomped on my foot.

What I'm about to say to her will hurt a million times worse.

"I'm going," I repeat. "I warned you, Dahlia. I said I might leave."

"Fine." Her voice is flat. Eyes hollow. Her fingers release their grip on me, and she whips her head to the side. "Since you want it so bad, do it. Leave."

Anything other than getting up will make me stay where I am. Spend the night. Risk another wave of anxiety, a stronger one than this. I'll say things I wouldn't be able to take back. I'll hurt her by trying to protect her in all the wrong ways.

My Dahlia.

Nothing to do but get up and pull on my clothes. Head to the door.

And leave her like that? What the hell was I thinking?

"Idiot."

I don't hear her while I stomp to the bathroom. She's just as quiet when I return, a warm, wet cloth in my hand.

"There you go." Those are the only words between us as I shove my cum inside her despite myself.

She could be asleep, except her eyes are open while I wipe her hymen blood off her inner thighs. I continue anyway, cleaning her clit, her lips, her pussy.

I had her consent before. Except now it looks like anything but.

"Dahlia. "

"Go away, Tyler." My name is choked in her throat.

She's right. I need to get out of here.

Regroup.

Come back for her tomorrow. I'll force the anxiety down. I'll fight with my own damn self at home, without dragging her into this mess.

Then, I'll be able to promise her something better than this. Better than a man whose sanity is tearing at the seams.

The bloodied cloth that smells like her pussy goes inside the pocket of my jeans. I spin, walking out the door for real this time.

Two steps into the hallway and I hear it.

Sobs. Growls. Something's crashing. Sounds like glass breaking.

Just like the other times I heard her scream and cry in here, my heart crumples. My soul is crushed.

Her pain is mine. Her pain is burning me alive.

This is the worst. Without a doubt, this is the lowest I've ever been.

Because her pain is on me. All. On. Me.

The distance to her door is obliterated in less than a second, and I'm back inside.

"Go away," is the bark I get when I kick my boots off.

Tears soak her cheeks. Eyes red. One of her bedside lamps is shattered below the only window in the room.

"I won't." I reach for the button of my jeans. "I'm sorry."

Dahlia throws a pillow at me.

Typical .

It hits me in the face. I don't feel it. I just want her to be better. I want to be better, dammit.

"Don't come back until I say you can come back." She gets out of bed, getting in my face. Shoves my chest. "I can't look at you right now, Tyler. You're not the only one who needs time to be with his feelings. And guess what? Mine are truly fucking hurt right now. I'll call you when I'm better. Leave."

"Will not." I grab her cheeks, pressing my forehead to hers as she growls at me. "I made a mistake. I wanted to give you the better version of myself tomorrow, but it was a huge mistake. I see that now. I'm sorry. Let me stay."

"If you're doing it for me, you're wasting your time." Her cheeks are wet in my palms. Her voice sharp. She's brave. So brave. "I don't need you here. I'm fine. I've been fine by myself for years. I've respected your wishes. Now, do me a fucking favor and respect mine. You upset me, and I need you gone so I can stop being so angry."

"Dahlia."

Her hands rise to my throat, choking me. She doesn't stop there, pushing me back across the apartment toward the door.

I don't mind the physical pain. She knees me in the balls when I try to push her back into the bedroom and that doesn't bother me, either.

My heart tears into a million pieces. That's what I feel. That's the sheer torture coursing through my veins.

My anxiety and overprotectiveness have hurt her this much. Hours of stalking, and I never once saw this.

This damage I caused her. Me.

"Dahlia, don't. "

"Shut up."

My back slams against the wall.

"Go. I need my space." She's still crying. Angry tears roll down her flushed cheeks, one after the other. "You owe me that much. A night. A few days. I'll let you know when to come back. Me."

I don't have anything to say to that. She's right. I owe her. I owe her this.

A few days. That's it. That's all I'm willing to give her.

"I'm never far, little savage."

"I know." It's a half-sigh, half-sob. "Go away. Please."

She rips herself from me, her blue eyes as pained as my heart feels. She points at the door, anyway.

A few days. No more than three.