bella [harry styles] a.u

Chapter 10

AnnaBelle

I was cold, immensely cold, and my body felt numb because of it. I could feel covers toppled over my body to keep the cold from getting any worse, but I knew there was another reason behind it, I could feel it in my gut.

The second I turned over from my side to my back with a groan, I instantly noticed the difference, sitting up immediately with my eyes wide open and my hand holding the covers to my chest.

I was naked.

I was freaking out because I was actually naked, and in Harry's bed. I could instantly spot the bedroom as his and was thankful he hadn't put me in "my room", for I knew it'd only make me emotional and even more sad with the turn of events. But, I couldn't believe Harry actually did it, he stuck to his promise that if I misbehaved, I'd lose all of my clothes.

When I brought my free hand to rub at my eyes out of exhaustion, I noticed the white wrapping around my wrist and instantly felt the pained lump in my throat.

I had a tattoo.

So much had seemed to have changed since only a few days ago; I knew too much, I was trapped, and I had a tattoo.

My hand was eager to peel back the white gauze, wanting to admire whatever was forever bound to my skin, although I knew I wasn't going to particularly like it. Without a second thought, I lifted the tape that was securely strapped to the skin of my wrist, but without warning Harry entered the bedroom, noticing what I was about to do and taking long and fast strides toward me, grabbing my hand that was peeling at my wrist and pulling it away from the other urgently.

Because of the way my arms were before, the blanket was held up securely without having to use my right wrist to do so, but when my arm was pulled in the direction of Harry, the blanket grew lose around my chest and I was quick to place my hand at the hem of it to keep it in place.

"Don't," Harry breathed, seating himself to hover over me as he kept my hand in his grasp. "Don't peel it."

"How come?" I asked curiously, knowing that I had every right to do so since the gauze was on my body.

"It's still healing and until tomorrow, you need to keep that on." Harry nodded towards the white wrapping, one of his fingers slowly grazing up and down the material, almost as though that was his way of admiring the tattoo that rested beneath it.

"Why'd you make me get a tattoo?" I frowned, my voice quieter and less certain than before.

"You're mine."

"Then what'd you make me get?"

"Stop saying it like I forced you to get it."

"But you did." I reasoned, giving Harry a confused glance. When he didn't answer, only looked at my face with concern, I spoke again, repeating my previous question. "What did you tattoo on my wrist?"

"My name." I gulped, instantly wanting to cry all over again at the news. But I had to stay strong, it was the only thing I seemed to have left and after I lost my strength, I would be gone.

"So, you tattooed your name on my wrist without my consent?"

"It has deeper meaning than that." Harry whispered, leaning forward from his spot over me and pressing his lips to my forehead. If he were my boyfriend and I was here willingly, that would've been cute, but those aren't the circumstances, at all.

"What's the deeper meaning?" I was curious to know, hoping that Harry meant joy, or something stupid and cliché like that, in another language.

"There an apostrophe s." Oh. "You're mine."