How stupid are you, Vayn?

Akira tastes of wine — bitter, red wine.

I feel his kisses, but I cannot return them. I am exhausted...

Akira only makes love to me because I smell of chocolate, and he is obsessed with it. But me? I hate wine. I hate the taste of it, and I hate the lingering scent of cigarettes that clings to him.

I am Vayn. Or, as Akira calls me: "Vine."

I am a chocolatier. I have my own business and my own boutique.

I met Akira two years ago. He had long, dark hair, eyes like blackcurrants, and that perpetual scent of tobacco.

"Hey."

I turned around to meet the gaze of a tall man in a black suit and a crisp white shirt.

"Can I help you?"

"Can you give me a chocolate that will keep her by my side all night?" He gestured toward a girl in a short white dress standing in the corner.

"None of the chocolates on display will suit your needs. Follow me to the inner lounge." I gestured toward the door and led the way.

Once inside, he began to examine every chocolate with meticulous detail, tasting a few.

"You have a bit left here." Using my index finger, I wiped a smudge of chocolate from the corner of his lip, locking eyes with him.

To hell with the wine and the cigarettes — I wanted this man to be mine.

I began to graze his lips with my fingers, my gaze fixed on his shimmering eyes. He pulled back slightly, moving toward the table. I followed. Since he was taller, I grabbed him by the tie and pulled him down toward me. He leaned in closer.

"If you choose me instead of that pretty girl, all these chocolates will be yours."

"I only want this chocolate," he murmured, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me flush against him.

"I’m not chocolate, okay? My name is Vayn. V-a-y-n. Like the name."

"Vine," he whispered.

"Vayn."

"It doesn't matter."

He began to kiss me, and I tasted the wine. My breath hitched, and the flavor of wine soon mingled with the metallic tang of my own blood. I pulled back. He looked at my lips and smirked. I wanted to slap him for hurting me. I raised my hand, but he caught it mid-air.

He began to lick the blood from my lips. If I believed in fairy tales, I would have thought him a vampire. But no — he was a man, and a man I would yield to no one.

He moved to my neck, and I forgot how to breathe. I placed my hands on his shoulders.

"You smell of chocolate," he muttered.

I didn't answer. What was there to say? "Y... your name?"

"Akira."

I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer to whisper in his ear. "Aka..."

He picked me up and sat me on the table, his hands moving to undo my apron. I shrugged off my jacket, letting it hit the floor. He pulled the apron away. Standing before me, he seemed even taller than before.

I began to undo the buttons of his shirt. On the left side of his chest, I found a tattoo: a wine glass. It was beautiful. I traced it with my hand before leaning down to kiss it. I looked up, meeting his downward gaze.

He pulled off my white shirt and tossed it aside. Then, he took his tie and bound my hands behind my back.

He took a tray of melted chocolate and began to coat my lips with it. I licked the chocolate away, trying to kiss him, but he wouldn't let me. He pressed me down onto the table and began to unbuckle my belt.

"If you become mine now, Akira, you won't belong to anyone else ever again."

He smiled. Oh, that smile. He smiled in a way that made me want to gift him every chocolate in the world. He removed my trousers and began to stroke my legs.

"Untie me."

"Hmm?"

"Untie me. My hands hurt."

He began to kiss my legs, biting down hard enough to leave bruises. I hate the marks left by love — especially the visible ones that serve as a reminder of pain. He stripped away the last of my clothes and pulled me onto the floor. The red carpet felt abrasive against my skin.

"Akira!"

He moved over me, and I felt myself becoming his — even though my intention had been the exact opposite.

"Untie my hands. Akira! Let me go!"

"Can you just be quiet?" He looked into my eyes with a flash of anger, and I realized I truly needed to stay silent.

Eleven minutes later, he untied my hands, and I could finally hold him. My wrists ached so much I wanted to die. I held Akira tighter, feeling my tears finally betray me.

He took my hands in his. "Does it hurt that much?" He wiped my damp eyes and draped his shirt over my shoulders.

"It's nothing."

We began to kiss, but then—the sound of the door opening.

How stupid are you, Vayn? I had forgotten to lock the door.