Page 87 of The Art of Obsession
Movement from beyond Acheron turns my blood cold. The clients are here. A crowd stands just outside the exhibit, watching me. Their eyes rake over my body, greedy and shameless, but one pair stands out.
While the rest drink in my exposed skin, this man’s dark green eyes stay locked on mine. They’re dark, predatory, and possessive—so much like Acheron’s, it makes my stomach flip. He doesn’t look at me like I’m an object to be admired. He looks at me like I’m prey. Like a challenge to my God of Art captor.
Don’t worry. That elven god can’t hold a candle to Acheron.
“Tonight’s exhibit will be quite unlike the last,” Acheron announces, his voice carrying over the room. “I promise you’ll find it… unforgettable.”
My heart pounds as he steps closer, his gloved hand sliding down my arm. I don’t know what he’s planning, but the anticipation is electric.
What is he going to do to me?
Cherry snarks,Probably something mortifying, but hey, at least you look hot while it happens.
I almost roll my eyes.
Acheron steps back, pulling out his smartwatch. He taps it, and with a soft mechanical hum, the partition wall behind me begins to lower. He grips my bound form and spins me to face the wall, my body swinging in the air.
The sight that greets me drains all the blood from my face.
Sitting in a chair, bound with handcuffs and gagged, is a face I hoped I’d never see again—my former professor. The man who assaulted me.
I can’t breathe.
Acheron leans close, his lips brushing against my ear. “Do you like my addition to the exhibit, Little Quill?”
The room spins, not from the drugs this time, but from the overwhelming flood of emotions. Fear. Rage. Satisfaction. And beneath it all, a dark, undeniable thrill.
What the hell have you done, Acheron?
Now we’re starring in some kind of BDSM revenge opera,Cherry croons next to me, her delusion clearer than ever.Is it weird that part of me wants to cheer? Like, yay, justice, but also boo, trauma trigger.
Sometimes, I think you’re my biggest trauma trigger, Cherry Bomb.
Such sweet words. I’m so flattered, Evie!
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Acheron standing at a small table covered by a velvet drapery and—oh, god, several surgical instruments.
Oh, this is gonna be good!Cherry claps her hands.
On the other side of the table are dozens of needles. The kind acupuncturists use.
Acheron selects surgical pliers, then advances to the room where Professor Aldridge sits, his eyes wide with horror andfear. All the clients’ eyes are trained on my captor’s movements, gleaming with eagerness.
When Acheron glides the pliers across the professor’s cheek, Aldridge flinches, trembling from head to toe.
“Gentlemen,” Acheron begins, his words a low, velvety purr demanding attention, “art can be a medium of truth. And tonight, I will demonstrate that truth can be far more painful than lies.”
He circles the professor, trailing the cold steel of the pliers along the man’s jawline. Aldridge whimpers, his eyes darting between Acheron and the eager faces of the crowd. Then, they turn to me, narrow with a fury.
Acheron seizes his jaw, gripping it hard enough to bruise. “You will take your filthy fucking eyes off my masterpiece. You are not fit to breathe her air, much less look upon her purity. Only I decide who looks upon what ismine.”
I swallow hard as Aldridge turns his eyes away in obedience. He looks at the floor instead.
“This man,” Acheron continues in a voice like venom, “is a parasite. A man who preyed upon innocence under the guise of intellect. But any predator may become prey, falling to a superior.” He stops in front of Aldridge, his head tilting ever so slightly as though admiring his handiwork. “Tonight, we strip away his façade—layer by layer,nailbynail.”
Acheron turns to the crowd, his expression unreadable behind his mask. “I promise, you’ll find this exhibit…gripping.”
A few dark chuckles with murmurs of excitement echo, and Acheron’s attention shifts back to me. His eyes, piercing and dark, lock onto mine, sending a chill down my spine. Then he leans closer to Aldridge. “Don’t worry, Professor. This is just the beginning.”
