Page 55 of Dark Obsession

“That doesn’t make this any easier, Grigori! I don’t care how many times you’ve danced with death. You think I’m just going to sit here and wait for some phone call telling me you’re gone?”

He mops his brow with his hand, frustration simmering beneath his calm exterior. "I’ve trained for this my entire life. This is what I do. You can’t come with me."

“I’m not asking to come with you,” I shoot back. “I’m asking you not to leave me alone in the middle of this war zone!”

As he opens his mouth to reply, I feel tears prickling at the corners of my eyes. Shit. The last thing I want to do is cry. I bite my lip, trying to hold it back, but it’s too late.

“I don’t want to lose you,” I whisper, hating how weak I sound, how exposed I feel.

Grigori's face softens instantly, and before I can pull myself together, he’s in front of me, wrapping his arms around me. I try to push him away, angry at myself for crying, but he holds me tight.

“Elena,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. “I’m not going anywhere. Not for good.”

I press my face into his chest, gripping his shirt. “But you are going somewhere,” I say, my voice muffled against him. “What if you don’t come back? What if... what if I never see you again?”

He pulls back just enough to cup my face in his hands, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Listen to me. I’m coming back. I promise. But I have to do this. I have to finish what I started. I have to end this for good.”

I nod, the fear still heavy in my heart. But there’s something in his eyes, something raw and determined that makes me believe him.

“I’m scared,” I admit, hating how vulnerable I sound.

His thumb brushes over my cheek, wiping away a stray tear. “I know,” he says softly. “But I’ll be safe. I swear.”

His words and his touch calm something deep inside me. I take a deep breath, letting my sadness dissolve. Before I know it, I’m leaning up, pressing my lips to his.

The kiss is soft at first, a tentative meeting of lips that quickly deepens into something more, something raw. Grigori pulls me close, his hands slipping down my back as he kisses me with a fierce tenderness that sends shivers through my body.

We’re moving before I can think—his hands under my thighs, lifting me effortlessly as he carries me toward the bed. I don’t resist. I need him. I need to feel him, to lose myself in him.

He lays me down gently, like I’m something precious, and the way he looks at me makes my heart race. There’s no rush this time, no frantic tearing of clothes. He takes his time, his hands gliding over my skin as he undresses me slowly, as if he’s engraving the image of my body into his brain.

When he finally settles between my legs, his body pressing against mine, I gasp. He enters me slowly, filling me with a tenderness I didn’t expect. It’s nothing like the heated passion we’ve shared before— it’s deeper, more intimate. He moves gently, his eyes locked on mine as he thrusts into me, over and over, until I’m completely lost in the moment.

The rhythm of his body moving against mine builds slowly, a steady climb that brings me closer and closer to the edge. My breath hitches, my fingers digging into his back as he thrusts deeply, filling me in ways I never imagined.

“Grigori...” I whisper, my voice breathless as I teeter on the brink.

He leans down, his lips brushing against my ear. “Let go, Elena. I’ve got you.”

That’s all it takes. My body tenses, pleasure exploding inside me as I come hard around him, my nails raking down his back. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up, drawing out every wave of ecstasy until I’m trembling beneath him.

As the pleasure fades, I feel him begin to move faster, his breath heavy in my ear as he chases his own release. And when he comes, it’s with a deep groan, his body stilling as he buries himself inside me one last time.

We stay like that for a moment, tangled together, our bodies still connected. He pulls back slightly, his lips brushing against my forehead in a tender kiss.

I stare up at him, my heart still racing. The words are there, sitting on the edge of my lips, but I can’t get them out. I want to tell him everything, how he makes me feel, what I’m feeling for him, all of it. But I can’t.

Instead, I reach up, touching his face, feeling the roughness of his stubble beneath my fingertips. “Don’t leave me,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. It’s a plea, a desperate one, and I hate how defenseless it makes me feel. “Please don’t go.”

He looks down at me, his expression softening. For a moment, I think he’s going to argue, tell me he has to go, that he has to finish what he started. But he doesn’t. Instead, he leans down.

“I won’t,” he murmurs against my skin. “I’m right here.”

As I drift off to sleep, a strange, gnawing feeling settles in the pit of my stomach. It’s irrational, I know. He promised he wouldn’t leave.

But somehow, deep down, I can’t shake the fear that this might be the last time I ever see him.

Chapter 23

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