"Do I?" I pushed, the emotions of the day finding outlet in this confrontation. "Because from where I'm standing, I'm still here against my will. Still wearing your tracking devices when I leave. Still sleeping in a room you can enter at any time. Still dependent on you for everything—food, clothing, the illusion of freedom you so generously provide."
I was being unfair, and I knew it. Our relationship had evolved far beyond simple captor and captive. But the day hadleft me raw, exposed, needing to lash out at someone, and Rafe was the only target available.
"Is that really how you see it?" he asked, his voice dangerously soft. "After everything?"
"How should I see it?" I demanded, stepping closer to him, invading his space the way he so often invaded mine. "You've marked every aspect of my life. Controlled every moment. Decided what I can do, where I can go, who I can see. You've claimed me in every way possible except?—"
I stopped abruptly, realizing what I'd been about to say. Except physically. Except with a mark everyone can see. Except with something that can't be removed like a bracelet or a tracking device.
Something flashed in his eyes—understanding, hunger, a decision being made. Before I could react, he closed the distance between us, one hand tangling in my hair, tilting my head to expose the curve where my neck met my shoulder.
"Except this?" he murmured, his breath hot against my skin.
Then his teeth sank into me—not cruel, but deliberate. Enough to make me gasp, to make my knees wobble, to leave no doubt that I’d carry the mark of his mouth long after he pulled away. He held the bite for a heartbeat too long, then soothed it with his tongue like an apology he didn’t mean. When he kissed it, it felt like a signature.
Then he looked up at me, gaze dark and steady. “Now you’re marked,” he said, voice rough with satisfaction. “Visibly. Undeniably. Mine.”
The words didn’t hit me all at once. They spread—slow and searing—through the hollows of my chest, curling hot behind my ribs. He meant it. That wasn’t some throwaway line meant to provoke a blush. That was truth. Ownership. And it shouldn’t have thrilled me the way it did.
But it did. God help me, it did.
Still, something in me snapped.
It wasn’t shame or fear. It wasn’t even defiance. It was something purer. Wilder. An instinct older than words, sharp as instinct and just as dangerous. My hand rose before I thought. There was no plan, no hesitation.
The slap cracked loud in the silence between us. A clean, open-handed strike across his cheek that turned his face with the force of it.
And then everything stopped.
My breath caught. The sting radiated from my palm like heat, like punishment, like the moment everything changed. He didn’t stumble. Didn’t flinch. He turned back to me slowly, deliberately, with the kind of composure that should have frightened me—but instead made my heart punch harder against my ribs.
His jaw clenched. A flush rose beneath the red imprint on his cheek. But his eyes—his eyes were locked on mine like I was the one who had crossed the line, and he was the one ready to burn for it.
“You feel better now?” he asked, voice low, almost calm.
But there was nothing calm about him.
Not the rigid set of his shoulders. Not the flare of his nostrils. Not the thick silence stretching between us, crackling with something raw and alive. My chest rose and fell in uneven bursts, every part of me thrumming with energy that had nowhere to go.
I should’ve stepped back.
I didn’t.
Neither did he.
He took one step toward me, then another. His body heat wrapped around mine, searing through the space he refused to close. And when he stopped—close enough that I could feel the heat of his breath—he didn’t touch me.
He just looked.
And I saw it then—the shift. The crack in his restraint. The way my defiance didn’t repel him, didn’t frighten him, didn’t even challenge him.
It called to him.
Like it was what he’d been waiting for.
He didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. Just stared at me with that slow, burning look like he was about to commit a sin he’d never apologize for.
Then he snapped.
