I slumped against the door, my vision swimming. The silver dress felt like a lead weight, the silk scratching against my skin as if it were trying to anchor me to the seat.
"Don't you ever push me," Jason hissed, his voice trembling with a terrifying kind of excitement. He wasn't slumped over anymore; he was sitting tall, the alcohol-induced fog replaced by the sharp, focused adrenaline of his own cruelty. "I don't care who is watching. I don't care if it’s Vance or the whole damn city. You are mine. Do you understand me? I own the breath in your lungs."
I didn't answer. I couldn't. My jaw felt locked, my tongue heavy. I just stayed there, curled against the door, my hand instinctively moving to my cheek. It was already beginning to swell, a hot, throbbing heat radiating from the bone.
