Page 113 of The Art of Obsession
“Cal!” she breathes, her eyes glassy with tears.
But Dorian doesn’t flinch. His grip tightens around her waist, yanking her back against him. He presses a gun to her neck, and my heart stops. My whole universe stops.
“Drop it,” he says, his tone casual, almost bored. “Or I paint the sand with her blood.”
Everleigh swallows hard, her hands twitching. I know how much she wants to fight, but she’s touching her stomach—her instincts to protect our child are greater than the risk of struggle.
I don’t hesitate. My gun hits the floor with a dull thud.
Dorian chuckles, low and mocking. “You think I’d ever end the life of my future bride? And my main attraction for yourcustomer base that will soon be mine? No, no, Acheron. How short-sighted of you. But thank you for arriving just in time for the ceremony.”
Everleigh’s wide eyes meet mine, her fear so palpable it feels like a fist to the gut. She whispers my name, her voice a plea, her trust in me absolute.
I take a slow step forward, hands raised, calculating my next move. But before I can act, Dorian shoves her aside and fires.
The bullet slams into my side, a hot, searing pain that nearly drops me to my knees.
“Cal!” Everleigh’s scream slices through the haze of pain before she runs to me.
Blood trickles down my side, warm and sticky, but I grit my teeth and stay on my feet. I can’t go down. Not now.
Dorian’s gun is aimed squarely at me, his hand steady, his smirk infuriatingly confident. Before Everleigh can reach me, my vision tunnels, focusing on nothing but him. With a roar, I lunge forward, barreling into him before he can pull the trigger.
We hit the ground hard, the impact jarring my ribs and sending a fresh wave of pain through me. His gun thuds onto the nearby sand, out of reach. We grapple, his elbow catching my jaw as I struggle to pin him. He’s wiry but strong, and rage fuels him as much as it does me.
“Everleigh!” I shout at her from the side. “Get out of here!”
But she doesn’t.
While Dorian and I wrestle, I catch a flash of white out of the corner of my eye—Everleigh moving, quick and deliberate. Her hands dive toward my belt, pulling the knife from its sheath. Her expression is no longer fear-stricken; it’s something darker, fiercer. And filled with more feminine wrath than the first night of the exhibit when I took her virginity, and she stabbed me in the shoulder.
Dorian manages to break free of my grip, shoving me off him with a grunt. He scrambles for the gun, his fingers curling around the grip just as he turns it toward me.
“Now, I will be the new God of Art,” he sneers, arrogance dripping from every word.
Before either of us can react, Everleigh unleashes a feral feminine snarl and drives the knife into Dorian’s back, the blade sinking deep between his ribs.
He stiffens, body locking up, mouth opening in a silent howl of pain. His head snaps around to look at her, shock and fury in his eyes.
“I stabbed Cal in the front,” she growls, her voice cold and cutting. “I don’t give a damn about stabbing you in the back.”
Dorian chokes out a sound—half a laugh, half a gasp—before she twists the blade viciously. He drops the gun, his hands flailing as blood spills from his mouth. I grab the weapon before he can so much as think to use it on her—or me—again.
But she’s not done.
With a guttural cry, she yanks the knife free and plunges it into him again. And again. As far as my hardening cock is concerned, nothing else matters. Her movements are wild, each strike fueled by rage and something deeper—something primal. Possessive. Blood sprays across her white gown, staining it crimson, but she doesn’t flinch.
He’s still wheezing, barely clinging to life as she stands over him, her eyes like a maelstrom of gray thunderheads vowing ruin. “A true god knows he’snothingwithout his goddess,” she seethes, taking the blade handle in both hands. “A true god won’t just die for his goddess. He’ll kill for her.” Her eyes flick to mine, gleaming like silver before she snaps them back to Dorian. “And she’ll do the same.”
With a fierce cry, Everleigh plunges the knife through his ribcage and into his heart, ending him with savage finality.
Her blood-slicked hands tremble as she lets go of the knife. Tremors break out in her body as she pants, her chest heaving.
“Everleigh…” I rasp, struggling to stay upright. My legs feel like they’re about to give out, but I have to reach her.
Her head snaps toward me, her wide eyes locking onto mine. The fierceness fades, replaced by panic as she rushes to my side.
“Come on, we have to get out of here,” she says, her voice cracking.
