Page 20 of Marked

He looks amused when he looks back at me over his shoulder.

“You will eat something,” he insists, like he always does.

“Yes, fine, I’ll eat,” I reply, nodding.

He arches an eyebrow, seemingly surprised at my willingness to give in so quickly. However, that expression changes when I continue speaking.

“I want something warm to eat,” I demand. “A real meal. Please.”

I don’t know what’s happening, or why.

Is it my desire to manipulate him that makes my chest heave like this as I move closer to him? Or is it the same feral yearning that has pulled me toward him from day one?

It’s true, I need warm food, a real meal, something to hug me from the inside. And it’s the thought that he’s the only person who can grant me that wish right now that brings heat to my cheeks. I depend on him.

I have needs, very carnal needs that haven’t been satisfied in days. And he’s to blame for that.

“Please,” I whisper. “A soup, some pasta, anything, just as long as it’s… warm.”

My voice travels so low that the final word is barely more than a breath, but he hears it nonetheless.

He doesn’t leave. He doesn’t deny me, at least not right away.

Instead, he steps closer, and a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

---