Page 12

Because I did choose, didn't I? When I didn't run. When I didn't scream. When I stood there while he claimed me with his eyes and his hands and his silence.

The city blurs past the tinted windows, my old world dissolving like rain. Ahead lies only darkness, leather, and the man whose touch brands my skin with blood and promise.

His palm burns through the robe, resting heavy on my thigh the entire drive.

He doesn't move. Nor does he grope me.

It's just... there. Like he's marking territory.

I look down and notice how the dark ink swirls beneath his knuckles - thorned roses and what looks like Latin script, disappearing beneath his crisp shirt cuff.

My skin prickles beneath his touch, caught between the urge to shake him off and a treacherous desire to lean into that warmth.

A heavy gold ring glints on his middle finger, catching the passing streetlights. It's not a wedding band, but something ornate and ancient-looking, with a blood-red stone set deep in the metal.

My stomach clenches as his earlier words echo:You'll take the Ravelli name. You'll be mine permanently.

His voice rumbles low, thumb continuing to trace circles that make my skin jump. "See something interesting?"

I jerk my gaze away from his hands. "That ring. It's—"

"A family heirloom. Passed down through generations of Ravelli men." He twists the ring, the stone gleaming like fresh blood. How fitting. "Their wives wore matching ones. And you will be expected to do the same."

The implication hangs heavy between us. I press myself closer to the car door, but his grip tightens.

"I don't want your ring."

His laugh is dark velvet. "You don't have a choice, little rabbit."

"Stop calling me that." The words slip out before I can stop them, sharp and brittle in the leather-scented silence. "I'm not your rabbit."

And that… that gets his attention.

He moves like a snake, fluid and lethally fast. His fingers lock around my chin, forcing my face toward his with a yank that strains the muscles tightening around my throat.

The ring digs into my skin, cold metal and hot flesh a violent mix as terror rises up and vile threatens to spill out.

"You think you have a say?" His eyes are black holes in the dim car, consuming everything they touch. "Let me make this crystal fucking clear,little rabbit."

His thumb traces my bottom lip, but there's nothing gentle in the touch.

"You're mine now. Every breath you take. Every thought you have. Every inch of skin under this robe. It's all fucking mine." His fingers tighten when I try to pull away. "You don't get choices anymore. You don't get preferences or opinions or even a fucking name unless I give it to you."

I bare my teeth, tasting blood from where I've bitten my cheek beneath his grasp.

"I'm not—"

"You're whatever I say you are." He leans closer, until his breath fans across my lips. "And right now? You're nothing but a frightenedlittle rabbitwho ran straight into the wolf's den. The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be."

His thumb presses harder, forcing my mouth open slightly.

"Now, tell me. What are you?"

Fear and anger combine to scorch my insides with fury. But what choice do I have?

"Little. Rabbit."

His grip gentles, but the victory in his eyes burns hotter than any slap.