Dark Notes

by Pam Godwin

Christ, her voice… It’s not lazy and high-pitched like girls her age. It’s complex and entrancing, like raindrops at midnight.

“Sometimes you love people you shouldn’t, and in the endless space of that love, nothing else matters.”

“Mr. Marceaux?” I rub my palms on my thighs, holding his gaze, and whisper, “You’re sharing your notes.” Lines form on his forehead as he grips the back of his neck. “What?” “I feel your notes. Here.” I touch my breastbone, my voice shaking. “They’re dark and hypnotic, like your breaths and your heartbeats.”

“You know what happened the moment I ripped Prescott out of that car? I asserted ownership over you. I know you don’t understand the significance of that, so I’ll make it simple.” I grip her throat and hold her gaze. “You’re mine. That means every inch of your gorgeous body, every thought in your head, and every word out of your mouth impacts me. Calling yourself dirty or any other offensive adjective is an insult to my girl, something I will not tolerate. Tell me you understand.”

The power is mine. I bask in it. His hands tremble, and I grab them, hold them, our fingers intertwined. I have him.

“We’ll compose our own masterpiece.” His mouth glides down my neck, kissing and licking. “A song that will never end.” I love the sound of that.