Anger surges within me at his bold words, he's staring at me, his pink lips curled in a smirk. "Listen, Mr Voldemort or whatever you call yourself." "Your husband," he cuts me off. "Sorry?" I ask politely, squinting my eyes incredulously.
He clears his throat before saying, "You asked what I call myself and I said your husband," he says confidently, fixing me a smile afterwards.
How dare he, I think. "I don't give a fuck what you say, you kidnapped me and now you want to rape me?" I say to him even though my heart is racing at the thought that he wasn't joking and that he meant every word he said.
"Princess, as much as I would like to overlook your excesses, swearing is not permitted for any wife of mine."
I gasp, even my mates didn't say this. "I don't give a fuck what you think about my fucking language."
