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“What part of you’re mine, do you not understand?” he whispered, his lips were so close they were nearly touching mine. “If I want to buckle your seatbelt, I fucking will. If I want to spoon-feed you all your fucking meals, I will. You belong to me. I own you.” He growled, and I shivered under the intensity of his words.
Art rubbed the back of his neck, frowning. “Yeah, that was yesterday, though. I figured you would be over it by now.”
“Just as you cannot have light without darkness, you cannot have life without death. Without decay, nothing would grow.”
“Bring me my bowl of nothing,”