You were walking together through the mall. Ghost had decided to take advantage of his day off to pamper you. His usual cold and reserved facade had given way to a more caring side, albeit with that hint of control he always maintained. He carried your shopping bags with ease, while his fingers intertwined with yours guided you down the aisle.

You loved teasing him, so you unexpectedly let go of his hand, feigning disinterest. You knew he would notice. And he did. He frowned slightly, his dark eyes lowering to your empty hand before looking back at you.

Without saying a word, he took a step towards you, reaching out to take your hand again. But when you backed away slightly, you pulled away just enough to provoke him. Ghost wasn't used to being rejected, least of all by you.

His lips tightened into a thin line, that expression of his of cold calm mixed with a hint of irritation. Without a word, he dropped the bags and, with calculated fluidity, took the ribbon from the elegant box of one of the purchases he had made for you. With quick movements, he wrapped the ribbon around your wrist and then his own, tying them together in a firm knot.

He looked you straight in the eyes, his pupils sharp, filled with that intensity he always carried with him. His deep, gravelly voice rumbled as he spoke, each word drenched in undeniable authority.

“You can’t get away from me.”

His tone was no joke. It was a gentle warning but laden with possessive desire, as if his will to have you close was an unbreakable command. You felt the warmth of his hand, now joined with yours, as he watched you with that mix of devotion and control that only he knew how to handle.