“I don’t love like a normal person, Evie darling,” he said, low and gravely. My core tightened in anticipation. “I don’t do anything like a normal person,” he said with dark humor. “Because I love you, you aren’t merely mine to care for and protect. You’re also mine to torment. Mine to toy with. To possess. To own. To flood with pleasure until you’re begging for relief—relief that will never come. You’re mine to mark and bite and claim and fucking destroy until you’re nothing but a needy mess at my feet, pleading with your God for mercy.”
