My F*cked Up Fairytale

ME AND MY DAGGER - CHAPTER FOURTEEN

I softly push him away from me to allow myself to look into his burning gaze. It's full of a dangerous love that swallows me whole with just one glance. I can't help but tug him toward me again to place a fleeting kiss on his lips. They taste of salt and the sweetness of the love only he can give me.

"You don't need to fight for me anymore, Dorian. I'm here now, with you, and I'm here to stay," I promise him between the short moments of the separation of our lips that seem to never want to part again.

"I'll make sure of that."

His words flow into my mouth as our lips lock together to form a passionate kiss that has been long since overdue.

When our chests are heaving and our lips reddened and plump from the constant assault, we part once more. He takes his hands and places them on either side of my flushed cheeks. His forehead lightly rests against mine as we mirror the smile on others' faces.

"Never again will I let you out of my line of view," He swears sternly, eyes full of protectiveness and a hint of dark possessiveness.

I laugh quietly at the idea of him following me around all day like a lost puppy. "You won't even leave me alone when I'm bathing?"

"Of course not," He answers simply with his smile growing wider. A hand playfully traces the line of my jaw and down my neck, only stopping at my collarbone. "I can't risk leaving you alone for even a fraction of the sun's or moon's time in the sky. What if someone happens to steal you away from me again?"

"Come on, Dorian," I implore, casting my eyes away from him, "That's a bit too extreme. Besides, if someone tries to take me again, I'll just use my dagger against..."

My voice trails off into nothingness as I come to the realization that I'm no longer in possession of my dagger. The last time I had it was when I fell asleep in Dorian's arms, still clutching it tightly in my hand. Now, though, that hand is holding Dorian's. 

I let go of his hand, scrunching my eyebrows together with stress pouring over me.

"The dagger," Dorian echoes my words as he sits back in his chair. His hand disappears into the open flap of his button-up before it reappears with my dagger. "Is this the weapon you intend on fending off your attackers with?"

He dangles it in front of my face, and a sort of nausea crawls over me almost instantly. 

Quickly, I go to snatch it back, but he grabs my reaching hand with his free one. The hold on my hand is tight and almost painful, but it soon softens. 

His chest rises and falls like an ocean wave crashing upon the beach as he sighs and reluctantly places the weapon before me on the bed.

"You're in no need to be in possession of such a dangerous weapon." He maintains his focus on the dagger, not looking me in the eye even once. "The dagger of a mere craftsman should suffice, but if holding this weapon makes you feel safer, then I suppose you may keep it."

To hold onto a weapon that is meant to kill him is to betray him. The mere idea feels like a horrible sin that I would be committing against Dorian. Despite this, my hand rises from my side, then falls onto the hilt of the weapon. Finally, Dorian looks up at me, an unreadable expression lying on his face.