Page 4 of Obsession

They spark with latent energy and power. His posture commands respect, and swift, blind obedience, like the kings of old. I can’t decide if I expect him to pull a sword out of a stone or bare his teeth with a show of fangs.

I meet his gaze, which is harder than it sounds, as it takes an act of sheer will not to look away. Stark, naked cruelty lies in the savage sapphire depths. Barely civil. He holds me in the power of that gaze for one wild, terrifying moment. A mere glimpse of the ferocious honesty in his eyes shows a world of barely contained fury and power, as if the blood of an unnamed god thrums in his veins, demanding homage and obedience before he snaps his fingers and orders destruction.

A shiver skates down my spine.

Heavy, dark brows slant over his eyes, and his mouth is a harsh slash softened by full lips. He stares at me, unblinking, his hands on his hips.

“May I help you?” I nearly startle at the rumble of his voice, as the polite words he’s chosen bely a savage intensity I feel from across the room. He wears faded jeans and a black Henley, but the simple clothing doesn’t hide the resilient cords of muscle that outline the column of his large neck and run down the nearly graceful slope of his powerful shoulders to the sleevesstretched tight across the carved biceps of his arms. His is a body perfected and honed for the sole purpose of harnessing a human’s full potential.

I realize I’m not breathing, but it’s his fault. He took all the air out of the room when he entered and barely left any for me. No fair.

He clears his throat, the polite veneer quickly vanishing, and I suddenly feel as if I’ve done something wrong. Have I? I suppose coming into his presence unbidden may qualify as unacceptable. Perhaps I was supposed to wait for a summons.

I brace myself, but he pauses, leaning casually against the side of an armchair. His voice drops an octave in warning. I haven’t replied to him yet. Oops.

“Who are you?” His tone is accusatory, as if he only talks when necessary, and it’s my fault I made him do it.

“Violet.” I blink in surprise at myself. No one unnerves me. Why does he? With a deep breath, I stand taller and remember who I am. I square my shoulders and steady my voice. “Violet Price.”

He doesn’t respond. Normal people would say something forced but polite, like, “Pleased to meet you, Miss Price.” But it seems he’s already used up all his politeness for today.

“And?” His gaze no longer polite, his eyes scour the length of my body, lingering at the show of cleavage at my chest, moving quickly down my bare legs, then back to my face. He doesn’t even pretend he didn’t sneer at the dust on my shoes or my worn bag, or even bother to hide the fact that he just undressed me with his eyes, like it’s his right because I’m standing on his property.

I should be offended. I should be angry that he just…stareslike that. But I’m not. Instead, the deep, dark recesses of my mind beckon with a whisper.

God, what a man like him could do to a woman like me.

What I could do to bring him to his knees.

I don’t like sex and never have, and yet…

Something tells me, he’d teach me how to enjoy it.

My cheeks feel hot. I clear my throat. It’s time for me to take back control of this situation.

“Are you Mr. Cain Master?”

He nods, one brief jerk of his head. “I am.” The sound of his voice feels like a liquid, sensual caress that skates across my naked skin, gently barbed with a prickle of heat.

I take in a deep breath. If he can skip the formalities, I can, too.

“Last night, my car was hit by someone I believe works with you. He totaled my car.”

No show of surprise or reaction. No apology. He knows, then.

“Right,” he says with a bored sigh. “You’ll be fully compensated for any damages to your car or medical bills.” He pushes off the side of the armchair and turns away from me. “Please leave your contact information before you leave.”

I’m… dismissed?

He’s given me the small amount of time he’s reserved for interruptions, and now he has to go do manly, important, adult things.

How dare he?

“While I thank you for that, Mr. Master, covering damages caused by the guilty party is a given, and certainly not worth my time in coming to see you. Clearly, you’re a man who values his time, so I won’t waste it. That’s not why I’m here.”

He turns back to me, that fiery anger stoked in the depth of his eyes again with a warning I should heed. But there’s something else I see that keeps my feet locked in place, holding me back from sprinting right out that door and leaving the way I came before he skins me alive.

He’s curious.

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