Page 34 of Unholy Obsession

“No!” I fight against him, but he easily subdues me, grabbing both wrists and pinning them to the bed, his chest holding my body down. We’re both breathing hard even though we barely wrestled. I struggle against his hold as his dark eyes skewer me.

“Do I hear a safeword?” he asks, chest heaving against mine.

My lips clamp together as I search his eyes. I feel a wild elation suddenly as I realize…

Oh shit, I feelsafe. Even as he holds me down and subdues me with his superior strength.

There’s no background thrum of fear like there is with random men I fuck outside the club. Like there was with that pissant, Jeff.

But I’m also not feeling that sense of bored safety I usually dowithinthe club because I know bouncers are near if a guy steps out of line.

I feel safe because ofBanehimself.

Well, fuck. Isthiswhat trust feels like?

He’ll stop if I safeword. There’s not a bone in my body that doubts it.

“You fucking bastard!” I scream again, but only because it feels good to fight like hell as he smiles down at me, working quickly to secure my wrists to the headboard with practiced ease.

The silk is soft against my skin, but the restraint is firm. Unyielding.

My heart races as I tug against the bindings, testing their strength.

“There,” he says, standing back to admire his handiwork. “Now you can’t get yourself into trouble.”

I glare up at him, my chest heaving with emotions I don’t understand.

I’m giddy and furious and wildly excited. And I really, really want to be fucking Bane right now instead of being tied up, helpless, on his bed.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

His lips curve into a slow, dangerous smile. “Immensely.”

“You’re the devil,” I spit.

“And you’re beautiful when you’re helpless,” he replies, his voice soft but deadly. He leans down, his face inches from mine, and I hold my breath. “You’ll thank me for this one day, Moira. When you finally understand.”

“I hate you,” I whisper, even as my body burns for him.

“No, you don’t,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “But keep telling yourself that if it helps.”

Oh, I amsofucked.

FOURTEEN

BANE

The afternoon sunfilters through the curtains, casting soft, golden light across Moira’s skin where she lies on my bed. Her wrists are still bound to the headboard, her body humming with defiance even in stillness. She is a study in contradictions—soft yet unbreakable, restrained yet entirely untamed.

My pen rests against the pages of my sermon, the ink flowing easier than it has in weeks. There is clarity in domination, in the simple purity of control. And yet, Moira?—

Moira is an anomaly.

She watches me now, dark green eyes flicking toward mine before darting away. There is no pretense with her. No coy games. Everything about her is raw and unfiltered.

And that, more than anything, is why I can’t stay away.

She isn’t like the women from my past. I’ve known too many who smiled at me with hungry eyes but cared nothing for the man beneath the wealth and power. They wanted the Blackwolf name, fortune, and proximity to power. My cruelty turned them on only because it meant access.

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