"I'm having no part in this. I'm having nothing to do with any of it. Because it's wrong. You're wrong. This entire thing is...it's wrong. It's just...wrong."

"Have you always been good with words?" He sauntered closer, pale fingers tracing my cheek, my neck. "You're relying quite heavily on that word. Wrong. Have you thought about what it really means? How damning it truly is? I don't think you have."

I hated the feel of his fingers across my skin, hated the jolt that had run straight through me, hated the tingling, hated the - I hated it.

He was clouding my thought process. "I stand by it." I hissed.

"Then leave." He said quietly, his fingers lazily drifting down my shoulder, my arm. "You know you're free to go at any time."

"Oh, yeah, out there into the dark. Nothing could possibly befall me out there." I mutter, trying to block out the sensation.

"It depends on what you think is more dangerous." He replied simply, silkily, fingers tracing my hips - we both knew I wasn't leaving. I hated him for it, and he knew it, didn't care.

He smirked, kissed my cheek chastely, and walked away. "You're mine. You were mine the moment you walked through the door." He glanced back at me. "But you knew that already."