Page 88 of The Art of Obsession
With that, Acheron trains the pliers on Aldridge’s pinky finger…and my stomach churns as he clamps down on the nailand jerks it off in three seconds. Screams pierce the air. I choke on my own breath.
I expect Acheron to continue, but he sets the pliers down on a nearby table, turns around, and fixes his eyes on me. I hold my breath as he walks to the surgical table and picks up a needle. The realization dawns on me. The needles are not for Aldridge. They’re for me.
At first, he circles me, and I lift my brows, eyeing him as he crosses to my other side. That’s when I notice the large vase overflowing with red and black roses. Acheron approaches the vase of roses, the vibrant red petals stark against the black ones. Taking a single red rose, he plucks it from the arrangement, twisting it from the stem. My pulse quickens as he pierces the rose’s center with the acupuncture needle, threading it through like it’s silk.
He turns to me, his dark eyes gleaming with something primal, something possessive. My chest tightens with fear and fascination coursing through me.
He steps closer, and the scent of the rose mingles with his dark and heady cologne. My breath catches when he kneels, bringing the rose-tipped needle to the anatomical heart carved into my chest.
His gaze locks onto mine, and my world narrows to him. The needle pierces my skin, a sharp sting that draws a gasp muffled by the gag. My body tenses, but the needle sends a sensation blooming beneath my skin like a gentle hum in my nerves I didn’t realize were dormant.
My skin tingles. My nipples pebble.
Awe and pain ripple through me as he secures the rose in place, its petals brushing my skin like a lover’s touch.
I can barely process the beauty—the macabre and exquisite art he’s making of me—when his lips descend upon mine. His tongue pushes past the gag, claiming my mouth with a kiss offerocity. A storm of emotions stirs within me as I taste him, dark and electric..
Then, as suddenly as he came, his mouth retreats, his departure leaving me breathless. He returns to the other room, where Aldridge’s muffled wails echo like a painful melody.
I flinch as Acheron clamps the pliers onto another fingernail. The sickening crunch and Aldridge’s agonized cries reverberate through the air. My stomach twists, but I can’t look away.
I’d say Acheron nailed it,Cherry giggles, her wings shimmering like rubies.I guess Aldy boy won’t be scratching those itches in hell.
Acheron repeats the process, retrieving another rose, another needle. Each time, he pierces my skin with the same reverence, decorating me in a gothic bouquet. He hypnotizes me, paralyzes me. Everything about him is the master creating a masterpiece.
Time blurs, marked only by the shift in songs that play softly in the background.Blood Sportby Sleep Token sets the stage, its haunting melody threading through the room. ThenTotal Eclipse of the Heartfollows, an ironic counterpoint.
With each rose he places, the line between pain and pleasure fades. Heat thrashes through my blood, flushing my skin. And I’ve never been so warm and wet down there. Especially with the pressure of the plug in my ass.
I blush more at the awareness that my arousal has dripped onto the floor.
I’m caught in the push and pull of sensations: the sharpness of the needle, the softness of the rose, the heat spreading through me, and the ache of vulnerability.
Acheron’s focus never wavers, his hands steady, his expression a mask of dark intent. But as I steal glances at him, I see something deeper—a twisted form of devotion.
And through it all, Aldridge’s screams grow hoarse, his resistance breaking down with each fingernail lost.
When Acheron finally steps back to admire his work, his gaze meets mine, and I feel it again—that predatory hunger, that all-consuming possession.
And I wonder, not for the first time, if I am his victim, his muse, or something far more dangerous.
37
Aww, did you just claim him?
Chapter Playlist
“Love Like Blood” – Killing Joke
“Bloodstream” – Stateless
EVERLEIGH
After a half hourwith Acheron engaging his audience in voting for a variety of bloody methods Aldridge has passed out from the pain.
His body is a tapestry of torture while mine is the opposite. Only Acheron could strike this flawless balance.
The warmth radiates across my chest and shoulders, creating both tension and relaxation. My breathing hitches, caught between a gasp and a sigh, as my body adjusts to the foreign sensation. It’s soothing, unnervingly intimate.
