Meet Dorian Vale

Theirs to Possess

A little.

I’m Dorian Vale.

And I’m accustomed to getting what I want.

Before you dismiss that as arrogance, understand the distinction.

Arrogance is assuming the world will arrange itself in your favor.

I prefer to make the arrangements myself.

Money helps.

Power helps more.

But the real advantage is paying attention.

Everyone wants something.

Security. Recognition. Money. Revenge. Love.

Sometimes all you have to do is discover which one matters most.

You’re wondering what you want now, aren’t you?

Good.

I’d rather you think about it.

I’ve never been particularly interested in women who agree with me simply because it’s easier.

Give me the woman who looks me directly in the eye and tells me I’m wrong.

I may not agree with her.

I probably won’t.

But she’ll have my full attention.

And once you have that?

Little one, you may discover it’s considerably harder to escape than you expected.

I notice things.

The way your chin comes up when you’re irritated.

The instant your breathing changes.

The difference between I’m fine and leave me alone before I say something unforgivable.

I’ll notice when you’re pushing yourself too hard.

I’ll notice when someone makes you uncomfortable.

And I’ll notice every single time you look at me as though you’re wondering what I might do if you pushed just a little farther.

Careful with that, little one.

I enjoy a challenge.

You should probably know something else about me.

I’m possessive.

No point pretending otherwise.

If you’re mine, I’m going to want you close.

I’ll want to know you’re safe.

I’ll want to know where you are when something doesn’t feel right.

I’ll want to solve the problem before it reaches you.

You may find that controlling.

There’s a decent chance you’ll tell me so.

Repeatedly.

I’ll listen.

That doesn’t mean I’ll stop.

See that look?

Exactly.

You’re already thinking about arguing with me.

I like that about you.

You’re also probably wondering about Brennan.

You should.

He’s my best friend. My partner. The man I trust more than anyone alive.

Brennan and I share almost everything.

Business.

Loyalty.

Secrets.

Pleasure.

That last word got your attention.

Don’t pretend otherwise.

If you were ours, you wouldn’t be standing on the outside of something that belongs to Brennan and me.

You’d be in the center of it.

Protected by both of us.

Spoiled by both of us.

Driven absolutely fucking insane by both of us.

And before you ask—

No.

I wouldn’t be jealous of him touching you.

I’d be watching.

I might even tell him exactly what makes you tremble.

You’re blushing.

Interesting.

Come a little closer.

I promise not to bite.

Unless you ask nicely.

There is one thing you should understand before this goes any further.

I don’t do anything halfway.

Not business.

Not loyalty.

Certainly not possession.

If I care about you, you’ll know.

I’ll protect you when you don’t need protecting.

Spoil you when you insist you don’t want anything.

Push you when you’re hiding behind that stubborn streak.

And God help anyone foolish enough to hurt you.

Brennan may be the one with the criminal record.

I’ve simply been better at avoiding one.

Does that concern you?

No?

Now you’re either very brave or making questionable decisions.

I find both possibilities appealing.

There was a time when I believed relationships were simple.

Every arrangement had terms.

Every bargain had an exchange.

Everyone understood what was expected.

Then I met a woman who refused to fit neatly into anything I’d planned for her.

She argued.

Challenged.

Demanded things I hadn’t intended to give.

Trust.

Choice.

Eventually something far more dangerous.

My heart.

I fought that one.

Hard.

I lost.

So maybe there’s a warning in there for you.

You can challenge me.

You can refuse to make anything easy.

You can insist that I earn every piece of you I want.

I might even enjoy it.

But if you’re expecting me to want you and then nobly decide you’d be better off without me?

No.

That isn’t how this works.

I don’t surrender what matters to me.

I hold on.

So go ahead.

Tell me I’m too controlling.

Too arrogant.

Too possessive.

Tell me you’re perfectly capable of taking care of yourself.

I’ll probably agree with that last part.

Then I’ll take your hand anyway.

Because needing me was never the point.

Wanting me?

That’s considerably more interesting.

And you’re still here.

Still reading.

Still wondering what would happen if Dorian Vale decided he wanted you?

Come closer, little one.

Let’s find out.