Chapter 43. Becoming His

Emmi's POV

“Now choose one, which would you like me to use?” He smiles at me as his eyes darken with desire. I look at them: one is a pocketknife, another a scalpel, then a dagger, and then, well, of course, he has a sword, a big fucking sword. But, as much as I want to say the sword, I also want to survive this.

“The dagger,” I say smugly. “Next time, the sword.” He chuckles and places the items down before disappearing behind me. I stand waiting and feel his hand grip my hip, his nails pushing into my skin, making me moan. The sting is fantastic, both pleasure and pain. I feel the coldness of the blade against my back, slowly scratching around my body until he stood before me.

He moves the dagger, the tip positioned where my heart is.

“You’re a fool for assuming you will survive.” His eyes look into mine.

“Of course I will survive, you need me to fuck, so you can’t kill me. Hurt me, sure, but kill me?” Of course, he wouldn’t do that. His blade pushes