Page 23 of A Dark Infinity

A wicked idea forms in my mind, and a devious smirk plays on my lips. Rising from my seat, I make my way to the kitchen. I return with a pitcher of water and a glass, the cool liquid sloshing gently within.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, I place the pitcher and glass beside me. With deliberate slowness, I pour water from the pitcher into the glass, watching as it fills to the brim before pouring it back into the pitcher. The repetitive motion is almost hypnotic, and I can see the anticipation building in Lark’s eyes as she watches me.

I lean in closer to her, my voice low and teasing. “Thirsty?” I ask, a hint of amusement lacing my words.

Lark glares at me, her eyes filled with a mixture of fear and defiance. “What do you want from me?” she demands, her voice trembling slightly but holding an underlying strength.

I chuckle softly, enjoying the challenge she presents. “What do I want?” I echo, feigning innocence. “Oh, Little Bird, there’s so much I want from you. But for now, I just want to hear you say my name.”

Her jaw tightens, and she clenches her fists. “I won’t give you the satisfaction,” she retorts, her tone defiant.

I lean back, studying her with amusement. “We’ll see about that,” I murmur, a predatory glint in my eyes. I lean in closer, my breath ghosting over her skin through my mask as I continue to taunt her, my voice low and enticing. “Come on, Lark,” I whisper, my lips brushing against her ear. “Say my name. You know you want to.”

Lark’s eyes narrow, a flicker of defiance in her gaze. “I’ll never say your name,” she spits out, her voice tinged with anger.

I chuckle darkly, the sound making her shiver. “You’re stubborn, I’ll give you that,” I remark, running a finger lightly along her jawline. “But you’ll say it, eventually. I’ll make sure of it.”

She grit her teeth, her body tense with frustration. “Why are you doing this?” she demands, her voice trembling with emotion.

I lean back slightly, studying her with a smirk. “Because I can,” I reply, my tone dripping with arrogance. “Because you intrigue me, Little Bird. And because you’re mine.”

Her eyes flash with defiance, but I can see the fear lurking beneath the surface. “I’ll never be yours,” she vows, her voice firm.

I lean in even closer, my lips hovering just inches from hers. “We’ll see about that,” I whisper, a dangerous edge to my voice. “You’re already here, aren’t you? Handcuffed to my bed. You can’t deny the pull between us.”

She glares at me, her jaw clenched in frustration. “I hate you,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

I smirk, a twisted sense of satisfaction coursing through me. “Hate is just another form of passion, Lark,” I murmur, tracing a finger along her cheek. “And I’m perfectly fine with that.”

Lark’s resolve wavers as she shifts uncomfortably against the bed, her expression betraying her discomfort. “I... I need to pee,” she finally admits, her voice strained.

I raise an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of my lips. “Oh, so now you’re making demands?” I tease, though there’s a hint of amusement in my voice.

“It’s not a demand, it’s a basic human need,” she retorts, her tone laced with irritation. “And you’re not fighting fair.”

Pinning her with my steely gaze, I growl, “Fairness went out the window the moment you walked into my life, Little Bird.” She huffs, and I continue. “But fine, I’ll allow it.”

After untying her, I follow her to the bathroom, keeping a close eye on her as she sits down on the toilet. “Are you going to watch me pee?” she whispers, horrified. “Can’t you give me some privacy?”

“Sure,” I say as I casually lean against the doorframe. “Just say my name, and I’ll be out of here. I’ll even let you close the door.”

She opens her mouth, but before a sound can come out, she closes it again and shakes her head. “Fine,” she huffs. “If you get off on listening to me pee, have at it.”

I throw my head back and laugh. “We both know that’s not how I get off,” I say.

When Lark’s done in the bathroom, we return to the bedroom. She lies back down on the bed, spreading her arms while eyeing me. But I shake my head. “No restraints this time. You’re free to move... for now.”

She sits back up, rubbing her wrists where red marks are forming. That’s my fault. I should have taken better care of my Little Bird and anticipated her stubbornness.

“T-thank you,” she murmurs.

“Are you hungry?” I ask, not acknowledging her gratitude.

She looks at me, skepticism written all over her face. “Do I have to say your name to get fed?”

I move over to her and cup her cheek, pleased she briefly leans into the touch. “No,” I answer. “I want you to want to say my name. I’m a patient man and I have no problem waiting… for a while.”

She eyes me warily as she sits on the edge of the bed, still visibly tense. “And if I never want to say it?” she challenges, her gaze meeting mine defiantly.

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