Page 14 of Obsessed

Kane

Ipushthe ice pack off my hand. The plane is just hours from landing. I'll be glad to get back to the complex. One step out of it and the whole fucking thingunravels.

A tiny sound comes from the couch across the way. By the time we got back to the yacht, she was writhing in agony from withdrawals. The nectar laced with a little something extra brought her instant relief along with soundsleep.

She stretches in her sleep before curling up under the blanket. The bruise on her cheek makes me tighten my fists, but I'm quickly reminded that my knuckles are the size of golf balls. Besides, he got his, the fucking asshole gothis.

Another kitteny sound, a sound I wish I could bottle for a time when my head is not filled with dark thoughts. Her long lashes flutter with a dream and her freckled nose twitches back and forth. She looks young, like a littlegirl.

Icy cold knots form in my chest. She tried to run. She wanted to be free of me. I was still grappling with that reality. I'd arrived at the dock in time to see my two most trusted bodyguards running like roosters with their asses on fire for the marina parking lot. When they broke the news it felt as if someone had shot a torpedo into my gut. Anger and worry somersaulted with betrayal as we hurtled along the road to find her. I was ready to punish her, to send her on her way. Ambitious thoughts for an obsessed man. I was reminded just how far my fixation went when I saw the slimey fuckface leaning over her. Fury sent me charging at him and killing him was the only thought in my head. Kill the fucker for hurting her. Kill the fucker for daring to touch her, for daring to look at her, for daring to breathe the same damn air as her. And now she's seen me. All ofme.

I get up from the chair and walk over to the couch. The plane shimmies side to side with some turbulence and her arm falls free from the blanket. I push it backunder.

I lift her head and she allows it. I sit down on the couch. She settles her head in my lap. I draw my thumb along the side of her face, along the bruise. Her lashes flutter but she doesn't wakeup.

She tried to run. She wanted to be free of me. The words circle my head for the millionth time. The pain doesn't get any lighter with eachpass.

If anything, it gets morepronounced.

14

Angie

Aknock soundson the door. My eyes open. I shut them again quickly. I reach around with my hands. The familiar feel of the quilts assures me I'm back in the bedroom. I can feel the leather cuffs circling my wrists and ankles. I open my eyes and sit up. Anotherknock.

The door opens. I don't even turn to look at Blake. "One minute I'm on a yacht in the Caribbean and the next I'm tucked in thisbed."

The smell of bacon and eggs makes my stomach churn but not in a good way. I swing my feet out of bed and am surprised to see a woman dressed in a chef's coat carrying a plate of food to the table in the room. She places the food on the table and pulls some packets of salt and pepper out of herpocket.

"Where's Blake?" I ask as I rub the ache from mytemples.

"I don't know anything about Blake," she answers quickly before scurrying out thedoor.

I get up and shuffle to the bathroom. My robe is still hanging on the door hook. Blake usually moves it to the chrome rack near the shower. My head feels heavy, but the terrible pain has subsided and the inner warmth that the nectar provides helps ease my mood. The fresh pin mark on my arm assures me my faithful assistant dosed me up while I slept. It seems I was sleeping like a bear in winter. I moved across oceans and continents and was swept back into the underground complex without raising alid.

I walk to the mirror and gasp at my reflection. A massive bruise covers one cheek. There are cuts on my chin that have dried to light scabs. I rinse my face with cold water to come out of the dozy trance that still grips me. As I reach for the towel, trickles of memories come back, first in slow motion then at warp speed. The guys in the truck, the abandoned building, the near rape. And Kane. He was there too. My throat tightens as every bit comes back to me in full color. He was filled with a monstrous rage, a rage that I'm sure was not satisfied until he choked the life out of my assailant. The last thing I remember was Oscar holding me as Kane shot nectar into myveins.

My bedroom door opens. "Thank goodness," I sigh and rush out to meetBlake.

"I worried that—" my words jam in mythroat.

Kane is checking out the plate of food. "You need to eat. Get your strengthback."

My gaze drops to the hand he keeps glued to his side. The knuckles are grotesquely swollen and crisscrossed with deepcuts.

"Where's Blake?" My throat is suddenlyparched.

"He won't be your assistant anymore. I think you'll be all right on your own. I'll be in charge of yourinjections."

I'm numb and frozen to the spot. It's my fault. I've done this to Blake. "You didn't send him away, did you?" My eyesache.

He doesn'tanswer.

My stomach tightens. "Please. Tell me. It was all my fault. Just send me away and keep Blake. I'll walk away from here and never lookback."

His lip turns up. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? A free pass away from me? Blake is fine. And yes, it is all your fault." His cruelty sometimes seems to surprise even him, as if he doesn't realize it's there until it comes shootingout.

The tight set of his jaw loosens, and he crosses the room tome.

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