Page 69 of Oblivion
“I know,” I whispered.
“You don’t get to avoid me anymore. You don’t get to hide from the things you did. You belong to me. Only me. Your body, your soul, your black fucking heart.” He chuckled darkly and bent down, biting down on my shoulder blade. “You belong to me, and as your master, my darling, I will do whatever the fuck I want with you.”
“Storm,” I whimpered. “Please—”
“Shut your filthy mouth,” he gritted out. “You don’t talk unless I allow you to talk. You don’t exist for anyone else but me. I. Own. You.”
Maniacal laughter erupted from my chest, rendering him speechless. “Did you forget who I am, Stormy?” I glared at him. “Go on, do your worst. But at the end of the day, the only person who would be in pain would be you. The only person you will hate will be the reflection in the mirror, telling you how much you fucked up. But I shouldn’t have expected anything else from you. It wasn’t as if you wanted to talk things through before.”
“Shut up!”
“Make me,” I said, going on my tiptoes.
I should have seen it coming. I should have known how he would react, but I didn’t.
His lips slammed down on mine, his hands gripping my hips then going toward my chest, squeezing my breasts. I clawed his neck, running my hands over his shoulders as we fought for dominance.
I should have known that I wouldn’t be the winner this time. I should have known that he would win this time.
Something pricked my neck, and I detangled myself from him, stepping back. My hand instinctively went to my neck, my brain looking for blood, but there was nothing there.
And then I saw it. The syringe in his hand. The satisfied smile on his face.
“I hope you like pain, darling.” He took a step closer and pulled me to him. My limbs started getting heavy, my mind foggy, and the last thing I saw before I fell into the dark abyss was the torturous look on his face.
19
STORM
I’d been sitting herefor the last thirty minutes, unable to step away from her.
There was a part of me that wanted to get up and get out of this room, leaving her behind, but I couldn’t. My heart wouldn’t allow me to do that.
Instead, I sat here like a creep, staring at the woman who tore my heart out of my chest and stomped on it as if everything we'd shared didn’t mean anything to her. She betrayed me, ran away from me—not once but twice—and I still couldn’t get her out of my head and out of my heart.
I should have let her go. I should have forgotten all about her by now, but I couldn’t forget the fear in her eyes when she came here for the first time. Or the way she clung to me, even tonight, when all she should have done was run as far away as possible.
I couldn’t forget the scent of her skin, like honey and cinnamon, forever etched in my mind. I couldn’t fucking forget her. She had a permanent spot in my heart, hiding in the deepest, darkest corners of my soul. And as much as I wanted to hurt her, to inflict the same pain on her, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
I should have woken her up by now. I should have had her chained and down in the basement, but the moment we stepped inside the clubhouse, my body steered me upstairs, right next to my room. Atlas grinned at me, Indigo seemed concerned, and all I wanted to do was to bury myself inside her and live there forever.
It was fucked up, falling for the daughter of the man who almost destroyed me in more ways than one, yet I couldn’t help myself. She always saw the worst in herself—the darkness, the scars, the pain—but I saw more.
I saw so much more, and God, I wished I didn’t.
This would all be so much easier if I didn’t love her. I constantly had to remind myself that it was the hatred I felt, but sitting here in the darkness of this room, watching over her, made me realize that I didn’t hate her. Not even a little bit.
And that pissed me off.
Ophelia whimpered in her sleep, tossing from one side of the large king-sized bed to the other. My chest tightened, my body hating her discomfort. I jumped to my feet, her cries getting louder and louder, and strode across the room all the way to her.
My body ached to be with her, to feel her, to touch her, to love her, but my mind was at war with my heart, reminding me of everything she had done.
Her cries were getting louder with each passing second, shaking, wrapped in the sheets I threw over her. I wanted to stop caring, to tear this feeling out of me, but she was forever etched in my soul, in my bones, and I knew I would always choose her, even when I wanted to hate her.
“Fuck,” I cursed, ignoring the red flags my mind was pushing at me, and toed off my boots just before sliding in after her, pulling her body to mine. She fit me like a glove. Without a second thought, I wrapped my arms around her middle, holding her as close as possible.
Her body shook, her mouth open, panting, crying, but I didn’t relent.
