Page 83 of His Darkest Obsession
"It's done,” I whisper. “He’s dead.”
Anatoly lowers the knife slowly, his chest heaving as he takes one heavy breath after another. He reaches behind his back, pulls out his gun, and presses it into the back of Green’s head.
Green starts stammering. Pathetic noises about how he was just following orders. The words stumble over each other in his panicked desperation.
Anatoly doesn’t squeeze the trigger. He just looks at me, and stares as if he’s giving me one last chance to save my soul.
But I don’t want my soul to be saved.
So, I meet his gaze steadily, and give him a small, deliberate nod.
The gunshot is deafening.
28
ANATOLY
Blood driesbeneath my fingers as I lean against the car outside of a gas station, waiting. Indigo has stepped inside to wash the blood off her hands. It was the only thing that she said to me since leaving that basement.
Above me, the lights of the stars are hidden by the dense storm clouds pregnant with rain. And I let out a slow trembling breath as the first drops fall against my fevered brows.
My mind keeps replaying those final moments on loop.
Our locked eyes. The gun against that whimpering cop’s head. Indigo’s nod of approval.
My hand opens and closes again as I stare up at the sky while the car engine pops and drips in the quiet humid night.
I've killed men for business. I've killed men for pleasure. I've even killed men just because they looked at me wrong.
But this is the first time I killed for my wife.
For Indigo.
And fuck if it doesn’t feel different from everything else that I’ve ever done before in my life.
I want to close my eyes. But every time I do, all I see is the way she stands. Spine straightened, shoulders back, and chin up. Her soft hazel eyes hardening into stone as I await her command. Beautiful and merciless in her vengeance.
A shot of heat pours through my blood and collects at my dick, and there aren’t enough cold raindrops in the world to chase that heat away. And I don’t want it to. If anything, I want to feel myself burning up in the fire that Indigo has started in my heart until there’s nothing left.
I slam my fist against the door and clench my jaw so tight that my ears start ringing.
I’ve never wanted to lose control around someone as badly as I want to lose control around her. But I made her a fucking promise that I wouldn’t fuck her until she begs.
And she refuses to fucking beg.
Not when I ate her out against the window. Not when I had her bent over the table with my fist around hers. Not even when I had my fingers buried inside of her earlier today and her soft hazel eyes were practically screaming at me to fuck her.
But I need to hear the words fall from her full sweet lips.
My cock throbs painfully against the restraints in my pants and I slam my fist against the door again.
Fuck!
I can kiss her until her lips are bruised, eat her out until her voice is gone from screaming, and fuck her until my balls are shriveled and empty.
And none of it would be enough to feed my obsession for her.
Because that obsession has nothing to do with how badly I want to fuck her.
