"The next time you try to escape, you'll have to deal with your dying mother...broke, helpless, jobless, homeless and hopeless." He wasn't yelling...his voice was unusually stable...too steady...like he as just reading out a poem from a newspaper...
...
"Sé mi presa "[be my prey]
...
...I took you because from the second I saw you, you turned to my desire, I wanted you that instant but I can't have you while you're under someone else...I want you only under my rules, my orders, my authority and when the time comes...under my body screaming only my name and no one else's."
He looked at me, his pale eyes looking into my soul...
...
If a man oogles at you, I get you his eyes..." his voice rang in my head...
"If he touches you, I get you his fingers.."
"If he smiles at you, I get you his complete 32..."
"If he dares sleep with you..." His already dark voice darkened..." I get you his corpse.."
"No part of a man is meant to touch you...not his lips...not his hands...not even an accidental brush of skin..."
"I'm warning you, cariño, what's mine is mine...nothing changes it"....
....