Page 22 of King of Obsession

Only then did I allow myself to open them once more.

Where was I?

My eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room.

A cabin.

The queen bed I lay in was covered in quilts and throws.

Side tables, lamps, and wardrobes against timber siding.

As the initial disorientation waned, I took in more details: the dresser standing sentinel by the door, the soft glow of embers in a fireplace in the living room in my line of sight.

A sheer white curtain fluttered in a night breeze that carried the scent of pine, eucalyptus and earth into the room.

The wooden beams overhead creaked, a lullaby sung by the cabin’s sturdy frame.

I pushed myself to a propping position on the headboard, the rough-hewn logs of the wall to my back.

The room was nothing like my New York loft’s sleek lines and glass surfaces.

I inhaled, the fragrance of cedar filling my lungs, grounding me in this reality far removed from the cacophony of yellow cabs and the perpetual twilight of skyscrapers.

At that moment, I sensed a soul hovering close by.

A silhouette sidled into the room, and there she was, her piercing jade eyes fixed on me from the shadows.

Cleo.

Dark brown, wispy hair in a pixie cut, small heart-shaped face, eyes so green they appeared to glow in the darkness.

Her gaze remained locked on me as myriad scents assaulted my senses - a perfect fusion of pistachio, almond, vanilla, and salted caramel, creating a sweet and indulgent aroma.

It was the same blend, so unique it had haunted me for years.

It had invaded my dreams and plagued my waking hours, an essence I could conjure at will.

Now, more potent than ever because it was real and right there in front of me.

Summoning all my strength, I forced myself to focus on her as she stared at me with unwavering intensity.

My cock jolted as desire surged through me.

She wore jeans and a tee that hugged her curves and accentuated her lithe frame.

The contours of her body beckoned to be touched and held;her full, sensual lips, now pressed thin, only fueled my arousal further.

‘How are you feeling?’ she asked, her voice melodic yet edged with ‘don’t-fuck-with-me’ steel.

I nodded, still trying to process the whirlwind of events. ‘I’ve been better,’ I rasped, cringing as I tried to sit up.

My hands hurt, and I glanced at them, wincing at the scabs and broken, seeping skin.

Looming over me, her eyes flickered over my injuries. ‘Those Caputo jackasses are in with the Contis, and they all think they’re hot shots. But in truth, they’re nothing but dial-a-dealers and knuckle draggers,’ she snarled. ‘Do I have to worry about them knocking on my door for retribution?’

I arched a brow. ‘Those particular fuckers? No.’

She slow-blinked, catching onto my meaning.

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