Daniel Cooper's movement halted, and several red welt marks appeared on his pale skin.
He chuckled in anger, grabbed Amelia's mischievous little hand, and gently caressed her wrist with his thumb, pressing onto her vein. His slender, dark eyes narrowed, his expression a blend of amusement and danger.
Amelia hadn't expected to hurt him. Her face showed a mix of surprise, heartache, and guilt.
He was clearly angry—his face flushed—yet he didn't explode. She knew him well; the more angry he became, the quieter he grew, and it was when he didn't lash out that he became truly terrifying.
Distracted, she didn't realize she'd been pinned down until it was too late.
The man's long leg was kneeling on the sofa as he leant over her, his teeth gnawing angrily at her neck, as he spoke,
"You did this on purpose, didn't you? You know that the more you torment me like this, the more insane it makes me feel, the more addicted I feel, and the more I want to possess you!"
Amelia, "..."
