Page 102 of Unholy Obsession

His brow furrows, confusion playing across his features. “Moira, who?”

Wrong answer.

I push forward, just enough that he has to take a step back. His smirk falters.

“The girl you messaged months ago. Don’t pretend you don’t remember. The one you met up with, and then she came home with a bruise on her face.”

His expression shutters, but I see the flicker of recognition in his beady little eyes.

“Look, man, she was just some whore. Who gives a shit?”

I don’t let him finish.

My fist connects with his gut, doubling him over. He wheezes and stumbles, but I don’t give him time to recover. I follow up with a brutal right hook, sending him sprawling to the dirty floorboards. His head bounces off the ground.

Before he can suck in another breath, I drive my fist into his ribs. Again and again until he lets out a strangled, gasping wheeze.

I’ll be damned if I let anyone think they can lay hands on my wife and walk away unscathed.

He groans, rolling onto his side and spitting blood on the floor.

“Fuck,” he gasps. “What the fuck, man?”

I crouch beside him, grab a fistful of his shirt, and haul him up just enough so he can see me clearly.

“If you ever lay hands on a woman again, I’ll come back. Because I’ll be watching. And next time, you won’t be walking away.”

To make sure he’s got the message, I slammed my fist into his face one more time.

I let him drop, watching as he curls in on himself, blood spattered down the front of his shirt.

“Say her name,” I order.

He whimpers, but I grab his jaw and force him to look at me. “Say it.”

“Moira,” he chokes out.

Only then do I let go. I stand, roll my shoulders, and step over his sorry, bloodied form to walk out the door.

And don’t look back.

The months pass,and I only become more obsessed with my wife

Wherever I go, she’s there, electric and unpredictable and completely fucking mine. At the club, sometimes we let others into our play—Gemini and Jinx, a genderqueer dom/sub pair Moira trusts. But only if I’m leading. Because even when others are involved, she is always, always mine first.

She doesn’t even realize how much it means to me that she chose me. There’s only been one other person in my life who ever chose me over money—my mother. And no, Moira isn’t some replacement for the woman I never got to know.

But it still means something deep. To know that she put me above wealth. For fuck’s sake, she even kept my father trying to buy her off a secret because she thought it would be better for me. She didn’t want to come between me and my father because, in her mind, at least I had a dad. She figured maybe, just maybe, he was looking out for me.

She’s wrong, of course. But the fact that her heart was in the right place? That she was thinking of me first? I’ve lived long enough to know how rare a person like her is.

And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to her that she made the right choice.

Because for the first time, I’m not alone.

I didn’t even realize how fucking isolated I’d been until suddenly, she was there. Bright and wild and buzzing with energy every morning when I wake up and every night before I fall asleep. She fills every space she enters and lights up every room.

But I see what no one else does.

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