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If the patriarchy could just not for literally one day, I would appreciate it.
How dare they treat me like this when I was putting aside my own wants so they could be safe and happy?
“Cobra’s jewels turned to snakes, and he literally stood over you on the bed like you were his egg to defend or something bizarre. It was super creepy.”
“Everyone tried to pull him off you, but then you started muttering like you were talking to someone, and thrashing, and basically all of them went berserk. The men partially transformed, except for Xerxes, who shifted fully into a kitten and purred on your chest. It was the only thing that seemed to calm you.”
“You will be punished for not choosing me, but I’ve never stopped owning you. How could I? You are my soul.”
The romance books I’d loved to read growing up had made men sound way less dramatic than they really were.
I begged her to see that I was sorry for every time I lost my mind and made her angry, because no matter how much I wanted to be a gentleman for her and treat her right, I was still just a savage animal.
I didn’t own my kitten. My kitten owned me.
It sucked that I was going to have to kill all four of my lovers later tonight, but someone had to do it.
“I was going to kill you anyways.”
“Oh, Kitten, don’t talk dirty to me in front of all these people,”
Love was more than a sentiment. It was unwavering loyalty, even in the darkest place.