He didn’t look so smug when I followed it up with a kick about the ribs—a kick that didn’t land, but only because he could move pretty damned fast. He scrambled to his feet, looking a bit alarmed now, but it weren’t enough. “He’s MINE!” I howled. “Mine! And I’m his! You knew this when you slunk into our bed. I told you at the beginning, and I thought you understood, well, you understand now, don’t you?” He had the nerve to extend a placating hand to me, and I wished so violently for a weapon, I were not surprised to hear the clatter of a knife falling out of the cupboard. I turned my head to the side and spat instead. “I told you ‘no’, dammit. I told you I’d follow him to the ends of the fucking earth, and I will, and you thought that if you took him, you’d take the way I felt. Well, you can’t! Hammer and me—we’re twined together, like rose bushes or wrought iron, and you can’t untangle us, and if you did, you’d have to break us! Don’t you see what you’ve done?
