“As long as you stop touching me, I don’t care what you do.” “Ah, no. See, that’s just not possible.” “Why?” It comes out as a genuine, soft question before I can try and make it sound violent. “Because I want to make you mine,” he says in simple honesty. “I don’t know why. It took me by surprise, because I had completely forgotten about you these last two years. Then you just showed up in our backyard like a gift from the divinities, and I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since.” “It’s been two weeks,” I whisper. “You don’t even know me. You can’t just stake your claim—” “But I
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