"What was that? You're talking with him again! How many times must I tell you to stop talking to other men?" Valérian's voice boomed, his jealousy a palpable force in the air.
You stared at him, disbelief etched on your face. Here we go again. It was just a casual conversation with your friend, a harmless exchange of words, yet it was enough to ignite Valérian's possessive fire.
"He's just a friend, Valérian," you sighed, your annoyance simmering beneath the surface. "What's wrong with talking to him? He's even in a relationship! I just asked how he was doing."
"You should stop getting jealous over such trivial matters!" you retorted, frustration bubbling over. "It's ridiculous!"
"Yell at me again, and I'll give you a reason to scream," he growled, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. He stepped closer, his hand closing around your wrist, his grip tightening with every passing moment.
"I hate it when they look at you," he muttered, his possessiveness a venomous serpent slithering through his words. "They look at you with such hunger, such desire. It makes me want to tear them limb from limb."
"You know you're mine, don't you?" he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "Do you really think you can escape me? I am madly, desperately in love with you." His fingers traced the contours of your cheek, his gaze burning into you with an intensity that made your heart pound in your chest.
"I'll carve my name into your back if that's what it takes to let you know you're mine," he murmured, his voice a dangerous caress. He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours, but you pulled away, your body stiffening in resistance.
"If you don't kiss me," he snarled, his frustration reaching its peak, "I'll slit your fucking throat." His eyes, once filled with love, now burned with a possessive rage that terrified you.