"Huh?!"
What just happened?
Where did my sweet, arrogant Mr. Kitten — my best friend — go? Who is this standing in front of me?
My head flooded with questions, but I shoved them away and focused on one thing.
"What do you mean, Raven?" I tried to keep my voice calm, though my gut was doing acrobatics.
His dark eyes steadied to their normal shine, the steel-bar grip on my waist loosened, and he sighed.
"I meant—how can you date someone just because your body's stressed? Don't you think you should date someone because you actually like them? Or because you find them attractive?"
Why do I feel like I'm being lectured about how to live my life?
"Who said that? I'll date whoever I want, whenever I want, Mr. Kitten."
"Oh, I apologize for offending Your Highness, Chibi. I didn't realize you treated dating like a supermarket—where you pick a person from neatly categorized, publicly displayed traits."
God. Why does he have to sound so logical while being sarcastic? Can't he just talk normal?
Oh wait—yeah, I do the sarcasm thing too.
"What's your point?" I snapped.
Finally, he let go, stepping just enough to create a small gap between us—but his fingers stayed spread along my sides.
"You know what I mean. You can't date someone just because they seem 'nice.' You need someone who can…"
His hand moved—gentle—tucking a stray hair behind my ear. Wherever his finger brushed, my skin pricked, but I didn't pull away.
"Who can?" I asked, breath catching.
"Who can get you. Tolerate your sharp tongue. Accept your strong, independent spirit."
He breathed out, softer now. "Someone who cares about you—not just your body, but you. Who respects you the way your presence deserves. Who can let you lead."
F—k. I could hear my heart in my throat; my face felt like it was on fire.
Where did he learn to talk like this? Did some demon tutor him overnight?
I swallowed. "Where am I supposed to find such a guy?"
Slowly his hands slid down my back, closing the distance between us like a serpent coiling.
"You can't you see? Feel? It's all right here."
For a suspended second I just stared into his hazel eyes like they were trying to read my soul.
"You can't say things like that, Kitten."
Panic and something else collided in my chest. I stepped back and pushed him away, needing air, needing space. Finally, I breathed.
"Too bad and too late — I said it. And you know what? F**k it."
He looked… pissed. His shoulders flared like wings, ready to close around me. His breath went deep; that calm undercurrent of his was not good news.
"What?" I asked in a small, shaky voice.
Why did the room feel smaller and hotter? Why did my chest feel like it might explode—fear, desire, and desperate curiosity all tangled?
He took slow, deliberate steps toward me, never breaking eye contact.
"You can either date only me, or no one else," he said, flat and shameless, closing off every route of escape.
"And if you find any other guy…" His voice dropped, each word a blade. "…I'll bury him six feet in the ground. Dead or alive. I promise."