Cruel Obsession (The Obsession Duet 1)

“No, it’s me who is sorry, Dove,” he whispers against my ear a moment before I feel a pricking sensation against my neck and something cold entering my skin.

“Don’t…please…” I try and get the words I want to say out, but my thoughts become hazy. Muddled. Up and down become the same.

Leaning away from me, his face once again comes into view, his full lips a breath away from my own. Strangely, I find he’s beautiful as he peers down at me. Beautiful and frightening, all at the same time.

“Shhh, everything is going to be okay now. You’ll always be safe in my arms.” He threads his fingers through my hair and brings our foreheads together. He holds my head in place, forcing me to stare into his dark, cold eyes.

I’m fading fast and find that most of my body sags against his now. My heartbeat slows, and my lips part, and I want to ask him how I’m going to be safe with him? The words never come though; my tongue is too heavy to talk.

“It’s okay, don’t be afraid…” His voice is the last thing I hear, and his haunting eyes the last thing I see as the world fades to complete darkness.

8

Part of me knows what I did to her is wrong and fucked up. But I couldn’t help myself. What other choice did I have anyway? If I don’t disappear with her, Christian will find her and have someone else kill her.

Having her in my arms, even with fear in her eyes was everything I thought it would be and more. Her soft body molded against mine perfectly, her sweet scent surrounded me, and feeling the rapid beat of her heart against mine was the best kind of high.

When she started crying, I snapped, her tears are a trigger to me. I hate seeing her cry, but even with her tears, I can’t seem to shut off my body’s reaction to her. My cock grew harder than steel, and I had to stop myself from taking from her, reminding myself that she is fragile and that if I did something, I might regret it. No, I would definitely regret it.

The drive to the safe house seems to take forever, and I find myself glancing between Dove’s sleeping body and the road over and over again.

With every mile, we leave the city further and further behind. I stop once to switch cars. Luckily, I had parked the getaway car in a parking garage, so no one saw me as I dragged Dove’s unconscious body from one vehicle to the other.

Soon enough, I’m pulling into the driveway of what looks like an ordinary farmhouse. The white picket fence has seen better days, and the siding on the house needs to be power washed. The paint on the porch is chipped, and the windows look like they haven’t been cleaned in years. It looks like no one has lived here in some time, but it’s not about what you see on the outside but what lurks inside.

When I bought this place, it wasn’t because of the farmhouse, but because of what was underneath it. The house was built on top of an old 1960’s bunker. The house itself was nothing more than a cover-up. I gutted the entire place, made it bigger, and homey, knowing that someday I may have to bring Dove here. I wanted her to be happy here, on the off chance that we ever got to a place where we could be together.

Parking, I turn the car off and sit there for a long second. Normally, I can shut off my emotions and let go completely. This is different. In order to protect Dove and ensure I don’t hurt her, I can’t shut down. I have to keep myself in check.

That means I have to learn to deal with the feelings I’m having right now. Which is hard as fuck because all I want to do is strip her bare and take until there’s nothing left. All my sick and twisted dreams have come true, but only at the expense of Dove’s life.

Remember that, asshole.

I may have finally gotten her, but I’ll die before I let anyone hurt her. Things have just gotten ten times more complicated. Not only will I have to protect her from Christian, but I’ll have to protect her from myself.

I walk around the SUV to the passenger side and open the door. Taking her body into my arms, I cradle her protectively against my chest. She weighs hardly anything, and I don’t like it, not one fucking bit. I’ll need to plump her up a bit before I consider fucking her. The last thing I want is to break her. Right then, an image of my sweet little Dove broken—her beautiful face stricken with pain—fills my mind.