I had said that aloud. I thought it was in my head, but my mouth betrayed me.
I glanced up guiltily at him, my eyes meeting his black ones, and I gulped once again. "Sorry."
"Why are you sorry? You said what was on your mind. I want you to do the same as well. I want you to be truthful with me about everything, your life, your choices, your feelings, everything," he said and ran his thumb on the corner of my neck where his hand was and I felt melting down.
"But don't be concerned, my bride. You're mine and I don't hurt that is mine. I save them at all costs and I make sure that no one else takes what is mine. But I will never hurt my thing. No matter how I am with others, my sweet bride, you will not see that part of me with you."
I did not know if I was to be confused or relieved by his words. There was something in the way he said 'mine', some kind of possessiveness, a determination, and something more that I could not comprehend.
