•𝑺𝑻𝑶𝑳𝑬𝑵 𝑴𝑶𝑶𝑵•【√】

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ғɪғᴛᴇᴇɴ

I wake up with the sound of the door of Jinyoung's room and then the shower running, I glance at the clock at my bedside. 6 o'clock. I slept through most of the day, tossing around, fighting my exhaustion, my guilt, my spleen and the freaking jet lag.

I decide to have a shower as well and get ready for dinner. Which I desperately need. I haven't eaten anything all day but judging by breakfast, I doubt I'd get a full meal. How the hell does he keep so built?

I enter the shower trying to remain unimpressed by the all-wood bathroom with the window to the lake and the minimalistic aesthetic. This place is really good. Any other girl would love it here. I can't enjoy it.

I let the spray of water fall down my shoulders as I place my hands on the wooden wall and pretend for the millionth time that I am not going to cry. I inhale deeply and remain unmoving as the place gets filled with steam, the window in the shower fogged exactly as my mind is.

I want out, I want to go back. I want Jihee safe. But at the same time I want that mate of mine too comfort me. I want so many things and none of those that I got. What did I do to Moon Goddess to punish me like that? The water keeps running down on me and time becomes irrelevant.

"Emery!" I suddenly hear Jinyoung's agitated voice in the bathroom.

What the fuck is he doing here? Freaking pervert! I wipe some the window with my palm and I see him standing there with a scared look on his face, looking around through the humidity, his hands in fists.

"Get the hell out!" I scream.

"I was calling you, Emery, and you didn't answer. Goddess! I was scared that you..."

"What? Sliced my veins in the bathtub? Can't say I haven't thought of it."

He takes two steps, opens the shower door and grabs my arm. He pushes me to him, never minding that I making his probably expensive dress shirt all wet.

"This is not a joking matter, little girl," his voice is thick with worry.

"Well, neither is kidnapping but you seem to have a blast," I retort.

Jinyoung lets go of my arm and takes a step back. I got to give it to the man. Here I am, stark naked and dripping wet - by the water mind you - and he keeps his eyes in mine, not once glancing down my body. Talking about self-control.

"Get ready!" He orders. "Dinner is at 7. Don't be late!"

"Sir, yes, sir!" I mock salute him.

He says nothing, just walks away and closes the door behind him. That was fun. And interesting. And disturbing. As a male, he needs to know constantly that I am safe. That need is going to push him to mark me so we can establish our mind-link. And that would be it. Nothing to be done about it.

I get out of the shower and I dry myself. I comb my hair but decide to do nothing more than dry them. I also put no make-up on and I sway between wearing my high heels or my biker boots. I decide to be an adult and wear high heels. If he keeps insisting on formal dinners like the psycho he is, I will have to ask for simple ballerinas.

I go down the stairs and again I see him in the kitchen. He has changed outfit and he is now in a white t-shirt, a grey cardigan over it, black loose jeans and... barefoot. I am suddenly over-dressed.