My voice is a low, gravelly vibration that rolls from the absolute depths of my chest, carrying the full, crushing weight of the authority that the title commands.
Eleanor freezes. Her pupils dilate instantly under the soft light, her chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths as the command hits her. She looks back up at me, her eyes darting left and right. I look up at her, then down to her neck, remembering how her pulse hummed beneath my fingers every time I wrapped my hand around it.
I look back up at Eleanor and notice a spark of pure, unadulterated mischief flashing in her dark eyes.
She stands up, and I remain seated. My right leg is crossed over my left, my elbows rest on the armrests, and my fingers are intertwined. I wait for her to crawl. I have watched her crawl to
