Page 59 of Unholy Obsession

Am I actually his…?

Daniela bursts into laughter, doubling over like she’s heard the second funniest punchline in the world.

“You are his sneaky link and don’t even know it. He could have a whole-ass family in another state, and you’d be none the wiser.”

“No!” I protest, heat rising in my cheeks. “I’ve seen his house. There’s no secret family.”

She gives a nonchalant little, “Heh, whatever you say,” then hops down from the toilet tank. She stubs out the joint on the edge of the stainless steel trash can, pocketing the rest with the kind of casual defiance that says she’s been doing this a long time.

“Stay chill, Moira.”

“Same to you, Daniela.”

As the door clicks shut behind Daniela, the lingering haze of weed-scented air feels like it’s pressing down on me. But it’s not the smoke that’s suffocating.

Oh my god. I’m so fucking stupid. Prancing around like a fucking idiot.

Why haven’t I ever pressed to know more about Bane’s past? I mean, it’s not like I haven’t asked here and there. But he always just…

Changes the subject.

Turns the question back on me.

Offers something vague, then distracts me with sex.

I told myself it’s normal not to want to talk about the past. Mine’s not all that rosy and I’m certainly not sharing monologues about it. But he’s met my friends. And if I was on speaking terms with Domhn, I think I might’ve introduced them by now.

Still, it could be normal… right?

Fuck, what if it’s not normal? What the fuck would I know about normal, anyway?

Daniela was right. Maybe I am naïve. A sweet summer child thinking I’ve learned from my mistakes when really I’m just dressing them up prettier this time.

Because here I still am, trusting that a good fuck equals a good man. Tumbling headfirst into something, only for it to drop out from underneath me. Leaving mefalling, all right. Straight into the shit. Into trouble so bad, like last year when I broke my brother’s heart.

Fuckthat.

I’m nobody’s secret.

I yank out my phone, thumbs tapping before I can think twice.

Me: You busy tonight?

The text flies off like a bullet. No time to overthink.

Bane’s reply comes quick. Too quick.

No. Why? You want me to bring pasta on my way home? You eat pasta, I eat you? I’ve still got the taste of you on my tongue.

A shiver dances down my spine, sharp and electric, pooling heat between my thighs. My knees wobble, and for a second, I almost let it go. Almost let the sweet talk smooth over the jagged edges.

But I’m Moira.

I always poke.

Because if I’ve learned anything, it’s this: when something feels too good to be true, there’s always a catch.

Me: Good, you’re free. Dress up nice and meet me here at 8:00.

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