Chapter Nine
Cassian
I wake up before she does.
The sunlight is barely crawling across the curtains, and she’s curled into a tight knot beside me—like a perfect little doll. I study the small crease between her eyebrows and the way her fingers twitch every few breaths. With her big eyes, pouty lips, and upturned nose—she truly looks like a doll.
Mine. My little doll.
I slip out of bed quietly. If she wakes up to me staring at her again, she’ll probably swing something at my head, and I don’t need to pass out a second time this week.
I head off to make her breakfast, wanting to show her that even though I am unhinged, I can be sweet to her.
Yesterday—fuck—she was just perfect for me. Any other woman that came before her has long since been forgotten. We fit together like God molded us with His bare hands. She’s the light to my dark. The innocent to my depraved. Her pussy was made to be fucked by me, her mouth was made for me to kiss, and her ears were made to hear the filthy words I tell her.
When I bring the tray back into the bedroom, she stirs. Her eyes crack open, foggy with sleep.
She looks around. “Where…?”
“My place,” I say. “Still.”
“Cassian, I don’t… I don’t understand any of this.” She sighs, rubbing the sleep out of her brown eyes.
“I know you don’t.” I sit at the edge of the bed.
She pushes a hand through her tangled hair, letting out a shaky exhale. “You don’t have to pretend to be… nice.”
“I’m not pretending. But I’m only nice to you. No one else.”
I slide a fork toward her. “You’re eating.”
She hesitates, but she obeys.
Small victory. I’ll take it.
She’s starved from our “session.” I should’ve fed her last night—damn me. I’m still learning how to give her aftercare; I never gave it before her.
She finishes half the meal before she’s stuffed, and I tell her to get dressed.
“Where are we going?” she asks while I take the tray away.
A surprise.
My seven days to convince her that she’s mine in every sense of the word start today. I need to teach her to be obsessed with me, just like I’m obsessed with her. But will I ever let her go? Even if she still hates me after these seven days? Hell fucking no.
I’ve just made her a false deal to make this easier on me, but I’m never fucking letting her go. Hell would freeze over before I do.
As if she can read my thoughts, her eyes narrow. “Cassian. Where are we going?”
“Somewhere you’ll like.”
“That is not reassuring.”
“Didn’t ask for reassurance.”
She mutters something under her breath—probably a curse—and gets dressed before following me out to the car with that little stiff-backed caution she always walks with.
I drive for over forty minutes. She keeps glancing at the window, then at me, as if waiting for the plot twist where I announce I’m selling her organs.
I’d never harm her. On the contrary, I’d burn down whoever hurts her. I protect what’s mine.
When we pull up to the private wildlife sanctuary, she lights up.
“Cassian.” Her voice jumps an octave. “What is this?”
“A date.”
“A date?” She blinks at the massive gated entrance. “With animals?”
“Unfortunately.”
“You… hate animals,” she realizes.
“I do.” I unbuckle my seatbelt. “Get out.”
“Why would you bring me here if you hate—”
“You have three panda pictures taped to your kitchen cabinets,” I say flatly. “One on your fridge. And a tiny stuffed one on top of your water heater. I’m assuming you didn’t collect those because you think they’re ugly.”
When I bulldozed into her apartment, I didn’t leave a corner of her space unexplored. I need to know everything about this woman. How she breathes. How she eats. What makes her orgasm the hardest, how filthy she can take it, how much of my obsession I can show before she runs for the hills. To memorize her. To cage her. To worship her.
Her mouth falls open. “How the fuck did you even notice that?”
“I notice everything about you.”
“You’re a really creepy man, Cassian!” she mutters with a scowl—and I explode in laughter.
My little doll is funny.
I open her car door, and we walk out hand in hand. She tries to pull her hand from mine, but I don’t let her. I want the whole world to know just how mine she is.
The staff is already waiting. Money talks. They lead us past the regular viewing areas and into a quieter courtyard where three pandas lumber around like drunk toddlers.
Anya stops walking. Her hand flies to her mouth, and her eyes go glassy.
“Oh,” she whispers.
Something in my chest twists. I never once cared this much for another human being, but I want to spoil this woman. To obsess over her. To give her the earth and the skies.
She steps closer to the glass and presses her palms to it with stars in her eyes. I hate animals…but right now? I’d buy the entire species if it keeps her looking like that.
“I pay attention to the littlest details about you, little doll,” I tell her.
Her cheeks flush. “It’s rude for you to have looked in my apartment…”
“You shouldn’t have even been living in that hellhole,” I counter. “Besides, nothing about my woman is forbidden to me.”
She tries to glare, but it falls apart when a panda starts rolling in the dirt behind her and she immediately squeaks.
I’m done for.
This woman owes me.
The staff walk us inside, and we sit on a bench while the pandas eat. Or attempt to eat. Mostly they drop bamboo, pick it up, and drop it again. God, how did these things ever survive in the wild? They are idiots.
She nudges my elbow. “You’re not smiling.”
“Those fuckers are so stupid. Like okay, they may be a tad bit cute, but they have no brain cells.”
“They’re babies.” She pouts.
“I’m sure that one is at least a hundred years old in human years.” I point to the ugliest one—it’s too lazy to even sit.
The laugh she gives me is so precious that I immediately try to muster another joke, but my head is blank. I’m not the type to fucking joke, but for her, I’d sit in a pit of snakes if it makes her laugh again.