Beschrijving
I told myself duty came first with Orla. That her eager submission was just another detail to manage under my command. But the way she waits for my words, the way her body answers before her mind catches up, has started to carve past every line I drew.
My knife scar pulls tight across my collarbone when I think of what happens if I fail her. She needs the safety only I can give, needs me to own every inch of her protection so nothing else can reach her. In this shed the shadows stretch long between the crates and her back finds the workbench edge.
I lower my head without retreating. The mission waits outside but my need to keep what I have claimed has already taken root too deep to cut.