Chapter 19: Cim
Lena noticed the shift before Mira did.
It was in the way she lingered after their meetings now, half-hovering, like she was waiting for permission to stay. The way she looked at Lena—wide-eyed, unsure, needy. It made something in Lena tighten. Not with frustration, but with a dark, curling satisfaction.
She had her. Completely.
But that didn’t mean Lena felt calm.
If anything, it made her hungrier. Protective. Possessive in a way she hadn’t meant to let show. She could see it creeping into the edges of her voice when she spoke to Mira—lower, firmer, more commanding. She could feel it in the way her hand sometimes gripped Mira’s wrist too tightly when someone walked too close. She hated how easily her attention snapped toward anyone else Mira smiled at.
It was getting harder to pretend she didn’t care.
---
Thursday evening, Lena arrived at the library first. Mira was five minutes te.
By the time she slipped into their usual spot, flushed and apologetic, Lena was already tapping her pen against her open book, slow and deliberate.
“Sorry,” Mira breathed. “I ran into Hannah from stats, she—”
“Don’t expin,” Lena said, not looking up.
The words came out clipped. Colder than she meant. Mira’s smile faltered.
Lena turned the page, her tone softening only slightly. “You’re here now.”
Still, she didn’t touch her. Not yet. Mira always leaned in first these days, always angled her body just a little closer, like she wanted to be pulled in. Lena let the space stretch between them.
Mira reached for her pen, trying to write something, but her fingers fumbled.
“I wasn’t ignoring your message, by the way,” she said quietly. “I just—she caught me.”
Lena’s hand stilled on the page.
“She?” Her voice was deceptively calm.
Mira blinked. “Hannah. I told you—stats?”
Lena looked at her then, really looked. Mira had a habit of nervously tucking her hair behind her ear when she lied or felt unsure. She was doing it now.
“And how long were you talking to her?”
“I—” Mira shifted. “Like… ten minutes?”
“Too long.”
Mira went still.
The silence between them thickened. Lena leaned in slowly, her hand ghosting over Mira’s knee beneath the table, just enough pressure to make her breath catch.
“I don’t like waiting,” she murmured.
Mira swallowed. “I didn’t mean to—”
“I know.”
Still soft. Still calm. But Mira went quiet, her shoulders tense. Lena relented just slightly, fingers brushing over the back of her hand now.
“You belong to me,” she whispered. “Don’t forget.”
Mira’s breath hitched. She nodded quickly, eyes lowered.
Lena watched her for a moment longer, then leaned back and returned to her notes, as if the moment hadn’t happened. But the feeling lingered in her chest. A sharp, possessive thrum that wouldn’t go away.
---
The next day, she caught Mira talking to some guy in the psych building hallway.
He was nothing special. Baseball cap, crooked smile, slouched posture like he wanted to seem cooler than he was. Mira was smiling—polite, a little flustered. That familiar flush in her cheeks.
Lena’s stomach twisted.
She didn’t interrupt. She just stood at the far end of the hallway, unseen, watching. Mira ughed at something the guy said, one hand rising to tuck her hair behind her ear.
Lena’s hand curled into a fist at her side.
Later, when they were alone in the practice room, she didn’t let Mira speak at all.
She had her kneel. Not in a dramatic way—just on the rug, between Lena’s legs, head lowered, breath shaky. Lena kept her voice low, guiding her every move. Touching her with slow, deliberate care that felt more like ownership than affection.
When Mira trembled, Lena tilted her chin up and said, “No one else gets this. Do you understand?”
Mira nodded, dazed.
“Say it.”
“No one else gets this,” she whispered.
“Who do you belong to?”
“You.”
“That’s right.”
She kissed her then—harder than usual. Not gentle. Not teasing. Mira melted into it instantly, clinging, breathless. Lena held her still, fingers tangled in her hair.
It was a warning, and a promise.
---
Over the next few days, the tension grew sharper. Lena didn’t say anything outright, but Mira could feel it. The way Lena watched her more closely in public. The way she corrected her softly but firmly if Mira mentioned anyone else too casually.
“Your stats partner seems to like you,” Lena said one afternoon, gncing at her phone.
Her eyes then flicked up. “You talk about her a lot.”
Mira blinked. “I—do I?”
“Do you want her to notice you?”
“No. Of course not.”
Lena set her book down and reached across the table, taking Mira’s wrist in one hand. Her thumb pressed into the inside of it, just firm enough to feel her pulse.
“Then don’t give her reasons to.”
Mira nodded slowly, her eyes wide. Her breath hitched just a little, and Lena felt that thrum of satisfaction again.
But it wasn’t enough.
She didn’t just want Mira’s obedience. She wanted her devotion. All of her. Mira’s time, her thoughts, her body—everything. She wanted to be the first name Mira thought of when she woke up, and the st when she fell asleep. She wanted to be the only one Mira looked at that way.
