𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐭 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐞

12|| Question

Celeste / January 24
•••

I gasp as ice cold water splashes against my body.

Dante stands before me, an empty bucket in his hands.

"What was that for?" I seethe.

"You smell." He throws the bucket aside. "And I need you awake."

That's when I realize the left side of my jaw is beaming in pain, and I'm quite sure that wasn't the aftermath of Adriana's punches.

"You knocked me out."

"That's what you get for making my sister steal cigarettes." He takes the box out of his pocket, opening it to pull out a cigarette and my attention immediately snaps towards it.

I barely hear his irrelevant comment, because he's lighting a cigarette again. He walks towards me and I follow the hand that's holding the thing that'll fix my headage until it's near enough.

I swing forward, latching my lips around the end of the cigarette and taking it right from his hand before I swing back. I close my eyes, greedily welcoming the smoke into my lungs, but then they fly open when a hand closes around my throat.

He squeezes hard, causing some of the smoke to be forced out of my mouth as the cigarette falls at my feet.

He moves me towards him again, his face still the same indifferent expression but his touch tells me something different.

The tattooed hand around my throat tightens even more and my eyes go wide as I become aware of the lack of oxygen in my lungs. "You're tied up in my house, shaking and exhausted. The last thing you want to do is disrespect me."

Black dots start appearing in my vision and I'm seconds away from passing out. Which would be nothing short of embarrassing, but not as embarrassing as submitting to this man.

"Joke's on you," I rasp, my gaze flickering down to his hand. "I'm into this shit."

And just like that, he abruptly lets go, shoving me back in the process.

"Fucking hell, woman," he curses.

My chains rattle as I cough loudly, trying to get the oxygen back in my lungs and brain. I get a hold of myself and he's watching me like there's nothing more entertaining than seeing me suffer.

He'd taken a few steps back again, a box of cigarettes in his hands and not so subtly in my view. He wasn't going to give one to me. Not if I didn't dis-anger him.

"I took a cigarette without you giving it to me," I start. "I'll control myself in the future."

He frowns ever so slightly, looking... surprised?

"Is that your version of an apology?"

I straighten, growing defensive. "I recognized my mistake and told you how I'd better myself. It's way more useful than a stupid word."

He gives me a thoughtful look, his indifferent mask slipping for a short moment before he walks towards me again. For a minute he just stands there, all tall and muscular as he stares down at me – more specifically at the bruise that's forming around my throat.

Wordlessly, he grabs another cigarette before lighting it. He gives me a serious look as he harshly takes my jaw between his thumb and index finger. "You going to behave?"

Luckily I was already shaking from the lack of nicotine and sleep, because the way that question left his mouth made me shiver for more than one reason.

I know I'm running out of options as I ones again smell the addicting smoke. So ones again, I say goodbye to a piece of my pride. "Yes."

He barely reacts, but I don't miss the satisfied glim flickering through his eyes. His ring finger replaces the spot his index finger had on my jaw as his pinky rests underneath my chin, completely restraining the bottom half of my face, as he holds the cigarette between his middle- and index finger.