“Stupid little Dulcie,” he whispered, his breath hot against her lips. She held onto his wrists and glared at him, but didn't try to pull away. His fingers got tighter. “So scared of the big bad wolf.” “I'm not … scared of you,” she managed to gasp out, but then his grip grew so tight he completely cut off her oxygen. “Of course you aren't scared of me. I'm not the wolf. You are.”
