Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 127933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
He stood there, just a few feet away, his posture relaxed, his gaze burning through me. The air around him felt heavy, thick with tension.
“You’re… you’re here,” I stammered, unable to hide the desperation in my voice. It sounded pathetic even to my own ears.
He tilted his head, a small, calculated smile forming on his lips. "Didn’t I promise you I’d come back?"
His voice was smooth, almost soothing, but it was laced with something darker. I swallowed hard, trying to keep my thoughts straight. "You did," I whispered.
He took a step closer, the weight of his gaze pinning me in place. His proximity sent a familiar thrill through my body, but beneath that, there was an undeniable fear. His presence was overwhelming, as it always was, but now it felt… colder.
"You’ve been waiting for me, haven’t you?" he asked, his voice a low murmur, almost a caress.
I nodded; my throat tight. "I… I didn’t know where you were."
"I know," he said, his tone softening as he reached out, his fingers trailing along the side of my face. The touch was almost tender, but there was a possessiveness in it, a reminder that I was his. "You’ve been lost without me, haven’t you?"
I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. The truth was too raw, too vulnerable. I had been lost. Without him, everything that grounded me here had unraveled, and he knew it.
"You think I left you because you did something wrong?" he continued, his thumb brushing over my lips as if testing the weight of my silence.
I blinked up at him, struggling to breathe, to find my voice. "I—" My words faltered as his touch became more insistent.
"But you were good," he continued his breath warm against my skin as he leaned closer. "Weren’t you, my pet? You stayed here, waiting for me.”
I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest. His approval, even now, was like a lifeline.
"You proved something to me," he said, his voice growing darker. "You showed me exactly where you belong."
His hand dropped to my neck, fingers curling around my throat—not enough to hurt, but enough to remind me who held the power. "Now," he murmured, his lips brushing against my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. "You’ll prove it to everyone. Our Rite will be tomorrow evening."
The finality of his words washed over me. The Rite. Our binding. There would be no turning back. I wasn’t ready—I didn’t know if I ever would be—but he was giving me no choice. He was laying the path, and I was expected to follow.
I started, my voice shaking as panic rose in my chest. "I thought—."
"You thought what?" he asked, pulling back just enough to look into my eyes. There was no warmth in his gaze, only cold command. "That you could run? That you could leave?" He smiled, but it was more sinister than comforting. "You know better than that."
I swallowed hard, unable to speak as his grip tightened enough to remind me of my place.
"Tomorrow," he said again, his voice soft but unyielding, "you’ll show me, Lolita. You’ll show me that you belong here—with me, forever."
The words twisted around my heart. I nodded slowly, even though I could barely breathe under the weight of them. "I will," I whispered, my voice trembling. It was both a promise and surrender.
"Good girl," he murmured, his lips brushing against my forehead in a kiss that felt more like a brand.
The gentleness of it was a cruel contrast to the knot of fear and confusion tightening in my chest. He stepped back, and in that instant, I felt it—the hollow space where his warmth had been, the yawning chasm of emptiness that grew with every step he took away from me.
"I only came to tell you that," he added, his tone dismissive, already detached. Already gone.
"Wait!" The word tumbled from my lips. I reached out, grabbing his arm, clutching it like a lifeline. I couldn’t bear it—him leaving me again. Not after the silence, not after the ache of his absence had almost swallowed me whole.
He paused and looked down at my fingers clutching his sleeve, desperation clinging to my every breath. Slowly, deliberately, he pried my hand from his arm, each movement calculated, a reminder of the control he wielded over me.
"Didn’t I say I’d come back to you?" he asked, his voice low, dangerous. "Don’t doubt me, Lolita. Not when I’ve given you everything."
His words, cutting and cruel, ripped through me. Tears burned at the edges of my eyes, and I tried to blink them away, but they fell anyway, silent and unnoticed.
My chest tightened with fear, with the unbearable truth I couldn’t escape—I didn’t want to be without him. I didn’t want to be alone, to be left in this limbo of waiting and wanting. How could I have let him pull me into this? How could I need him this much?