Chapter 16 Dove
DOVE
Iwatch him pace the room as he stares out the bay window. He looks more on edge than I’ve seen him since we met.
“Your going to wear a hole in the floor.”
“What?”
“What’s with you today?” Acting like I care, but I don’t do I?
“I’m waiting for something.” He mumbles.
“So am I.” I mutter. He turns away from the window and glares in my direction.
“Now, what would you be waiting for?” He makes a hum in the back of his throat.
“You to let me go.”
His jaw clenches, and for a brief moment, I see something flicker in his eyes—something dark and unyielding. He crosses the room, each step slow, deliberate, the kind of pace that reminds me he’s in complete control here, that he can take his time.
He stops just in front of me, his gaze cold and assessing as it trails over me, making me feel exposed despite the distance. “Let you go?” he repeats, voice dripping with disbelief. “You think that’s a choice I’m going to give you?”
A spark of defiance rises in me, even though I know it’s probably useless. “One way or another, Ashton, I will get out of here.”
The corner of his mouth twitches, but there’s no humor in it.
He leans in, bringing his face close to mine, close enough that I can feel his breath, smell the faint hint of cologne laced with something darker.
“You’re free to try, Dove. But I guarantee you won’t get very far.
Because, whether you accept it or not, you belong to me now.
I decide when, where, and how this ends. ”
The weight of his words settles over me like a shroud, thick and inescapable. I hold his gaze, trying not to let him see the flicker of fear in my eyes. I won’t give him that satisfaction.
“What are you waiting for, Ashton?” I ask, my voice softer now, a tinge of resignation creeping in.
His eyes narrow, and for a moment, he looks almost vulnerable, though I can’t imagine why. He’s quick to smother it, turning away and returning to the window, but his shoulders are tense, the air between us thick with words left unspoken.
“Trust me, Dove,” he says quietly, “you don’t want to know.”
The room feels too small. The air is thick with something between anticipation and a dread I can’t shake. Ashton’s presence is all-encompassing, the darkness in his gaze almost tangible, a weight that presses against me from all sides.
He doesn’t say a word as he crosses the room toward me, each step deliberate, slow. I can feel the tension in the air, thickening with every inch as he closes the distance. My heart picks up its pace, the beat frantic in my chest, as though it knows exactly what’s coming.
When he’s just inches away, I tilt my chin up, trying to meet his gaze, but it’s impossible. There’s something about the way he looks at me that makes every breath feel like an intrusion, every move I make a dangerous mistake.
“Do you know what I’m waiting for, Dove?” His voice is low, jagged, a dangerous hum in the back of his throat. I don’t answer—there’s nothing to say. His eyes roam over me, cold and calculating, like he’s weighing a decision I won’t like.
He finally steps closer, the heat of him burning through the space between us. His hand, long and sure, comes up to my face, fingers brushing just lightly over my jaw, as though testing my reaction, seeing if I’ll flinch. I don’t. But the pulse of fear under my skin makes it hard to think.
“You think you have a choice?” His voice drops an octave, each word deliberate, soaked in dark promise. “You think I care what you want?”
I swallow hard, my throat dry. The air tastes like smoke, like the kind of fire that burns everything, leaving nothing behind. I hate how his touch makes me feel—like I should pull away, but I can’t.
“Maybe I want to leave,” I say, my voice steady, even as my hands tremble behind my back.
He smiles then, the kind of smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “You don’t get to choose that, Dove.”
Before I can react, his hand is gripping my wrist, pulling me forward with such force that I have no choice but to go, stumbling in his wake.
I want to fight, but something in the way he’s looking at me—possessive, hungry, like I’m his to break—makes me hesitate.
Makes me want to give in, just for a second.
He pulls me close, his lips brushing my ear. “You’re not going anywhere, little bird. Not without me.”
The words cut through me, the chill of them sinking deep into my bones. My breath hitches, caught between the dangerous pull of him and the trembling terror that has started to settle in my chest.
I try to speak, to find some control, but his thumb presses against the pulse point on my neck, just hard enough to send an electric current shooting down my spine. I freeze, the world narrowing down to his touch, to the weight of his hand on me.
His voice is soft now, dangerous, like a whisper in a storm. “You won’t escape me, Dove. You can try, but you’ll never be free of me.”
I want to shout, to scream, to fight. But instead, all I can do is stare into his eyes, knowing it’s already too late. Whatever game we’re playing, he’s already won.
And somehow, despite every warning bell in my mind, I feel the pull of him. The darkness in his gaze. The promise of a world where I’m his and his alone.
And I hate myself for it.
His grip tightens on my wrist, a silent command to stay where I am, to submit.
The pressure sends a shiver down my spine, making my blood run colder.
But there’s a part of me that almost… welcomes it.
I can feel the weight of his eyes on me, searing through every defense I’ve built, every layer of resistance that should have been enough to keep me from bending to him.
His thumb traces slow circles over my pulse, the rhythm hypnotic, as if he’s marking me, claiming me without a word. I try to stay still, to keep some semblance of control, but my body betrays me, leaning into him just slightly, the heat between us undeniable.
“You still think you can escape, don’t you?” Ashton’s voice is low, his breath warm against my ear, sending an unspoken invitation to something darker. “You think you’re still in control.”
The words strike like a whip, harsh and raw.
I open my mouth to respond, to fight back, but my voice falters, caught in the storm of what he’s doing to me.
A part of me wants to fight him with everything I have, to claw my way free of his hold.
But there’s another part of me, the one I’m trying to ignore, that knows I don’t have the strength.
“You’re mine, Dove,” he murmurs again, his words almost gentle now, a twisted comfort. “And there’s no running from me. Not anymore. You belong to me.”
I shake my head, but it’s half-hearted. My eyes refuse to meet his; they’re stuck on the floor, focusing on anything to avoid the rawness in his gaze.
But I can feel the weight of his stare anyway, burning a path down my skin.
The control he exudes is suffocating, relentless, but it’s also… intoxicating in its own sick way.
“You don’t get to choose, Dove,” he repeats, his grip on my wrist finally loosening, but only to move his hand to my chin, tilting my face upward. His thumb presses against my lips, forcing them to part.
My heart races. Every inch of me is screaming to pull away, but I stay trapped in his orbit. His eyes flicker with something darker now, something that feels like a promise of what’s coming.
A slow, wicked grin stretches across his face as he leans in, his breath warm against my lips. “Don’t worry. You’ll learn, little bird. You’ll learn what it means to belong to me.”
The words sink into my skin, and the twisted truth of them coils in my chest. I want to fight back, to scream, to escape. But there’s no denying the way his presence consumes me, the way my body responds to him against my will.
The silence stretches between us, thick with tension, until I can’t take it anymore. “You’re a monster,” I finally whisper, my voice trembling, barely above a breath.
His expression darkens, but there’s no anger, no irritation. Only amusement, twisted and cold. “You’re just figuring that out now?” He chuckles, low and dark, like a predator savoring its prey. “Good. That means you’re paying attention.”
And then, without warning, he presses his lips to mine.
It’s not a kiss, not the kind of kiss I’ve ever known. It’s brutal, claiming, and it pulls something deep inside me—something I don’t want to acknowledge. His mouth moves against mine, controlling, dominating, as though he’s trying to imprint his darkness onto me.
I want to pull away, to push him off, but my body betrays me again, leaning into the kiss. My hands clench at my sides, nails digging into the flesh of my palms, but still, I stay.
When he finally pulls back, his eyes are dark, predatory, and a smirk tugs at his lips. “That’s just the beginning, Dove.”
The words settle like ice in my veins, and for the first time, I’m not sure whether to fear him—or to crave what comes next.
As Ashton pulls back, his smirk lingering like a brand on my soul, I’m left breathless, disoriented, and fighting to regain some semblance of control.
The air between us feels charged now, crackling with something dangerous, something that feels like a collision of every twisted desire I’ve ever tried to suppress.
His gaze doesn’t leave me. I can see the subtle shift in his posture, the way his body seems to tighten, as if holding back a storm that’s just begging to be unleashed. It’s unsettling. It should terrify me, but there’s something else bubbling to the surface. Something raw. Something dark.
“I can see it in your eyes,” he says softly, like a warning, or perhaps a promise. “You want more.”
I grit my teeth, biting down the response I know will only feed into his arrogance.
I want to tell him that I want nothing from him, nothing but my freedom, but the words are caught in my throat.
Because he’s right. Even if it’s only a fraction of me, there’s a part that does want more. And that sickens me.
“No,” I force out, my voice hoarse and weak, even as I feel the heat rising between us again. “I don’t want anything from you.”
He raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Liar,” he mutters, before he steps forward again, his movements fluid, predatory. “You say that now, but every part of you is drawn to me. You know it, and I know it.”
I try to push him back, weakly trying to break the hold he has on my mind, but it’s like pushing against a brick wall. He’s too strong, too there. His presence envelops me like smoke, choking out any escape, any rational thought.
“You don’t get to control me, Ashton,” I spit, even though my voice trembles in places I wish it wouldn’t. “You can’t make me want you.”
His lips curl up in amusement, and the moment feels like it stretches out into infinity. He leans in close again, his breath hot against my ear, and I can’t help but shiver. “We’ll see about that, Dove. You’re just not ready to admit it yet.”
His hand moves to the side of my face, caressing my cheek with the lightest touch, and my pulse spikes. Every part of me is screaming at me to pull away, to break free. But I can’t. My body betrays me. His touch is too much, too right, and it makes my heart pound erratically in my chest.
Ashton seems to enjoy my silence, the way I’m torn between wanting to defy him and the sick thrill his touch sends through me. He knows he’s won, even if I haven’t admitted it to myself.
“Fight it all you want,” he whispers, his voice low and dangerous. “But you’re mine now, Dove. And I’ll break you—slowly, piece by piece—until you understand that.”
I tremble under his words, part of me still wanting to shove him away, to scream that this isn’t happening, that I’m not his. But deep down, another part of me knows the truth: the part of me that’s terrified and drawn to him at the same time.
His thumb traces over my bottom lip again, and my breath catches.
The contrast between the cruelty in his words and the tenderness of his touch makes my head spin.
Every second, I feel myself slipping further and further into the vortex he’s created.
I want to resist, I should resist, but something in me craves this. Craves him.
“Let me go,” I say again, but this time, it’s quieter, almost pleading, even though I hate myself for it.
He laughs softly, the sound dark and knowing. “You don’t get to make that decision, little bird. Not anymore.”
Then, in a move so quick I barely register it, his lips are on mine again, hard and insistent, claiming me with a possessive kiss that leaves no room for argument. There’s nothing gentle about it, nothing soft. It’s all heat, hunger, and raw power.
And for the first time, I don’t fight it. Instead, I lean into him, my lips parting, giving him access. Why? I don’t know. Maybe I’m too far gone to care. Maybe the darkness that surrounds us has gotten to me. Or maybe, just maybe, I’m starting to realize that I’ll never truly escape him.
When he pulls back, there’s no smug grin on his face. Just a cold, calculating stare. “See? You do want me.”
I hate him for it, but I can’t deny it. There’s a part of me—too much of me—that does.
“Don’t worry, Dove,” he says, his voice soft now, almost… tender, if you could call it that. “You’ll learn to love it. To love me. One way or another.”
I close my eyes, feeling the weight of his words crush down on me, and for the first time, I can’t see an escape.
And maybe, deep down, I don’t want one.