I didn't ask to own him. But now he's mine. I've lived on the edge-danger, blood, and control were the only things that ever made sense. Love? That was never part of the deal. Then I bought him. Not for love. Not for comfort. Just to keep him alive. He's fragile in ways I don't understand. Soft in ways I don't deserve. And somewhere between the bruises and the obedience, he started looking at me like I was more than a monster. Now I don't know what scares me more- losing him, or becoming the man he thinks I am.
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