He heard her words, but louder were her movements, the tugging of her wrists against his grip. Louder still was the need to kiss her again, because that shut her up— that always had shut her up, before. No, not just that, but because of the rush of power it had given him before, and she made him feel so, so powerless, so weak, so pathetic, but not when he kissed her. He lunged again, but she jerked her head away and with a grunt of frustration he swept both of her wrists into one hand, squeezing tighter to keep them there, and he grabbed her face in his other hand, forcing her mouth back to his.