Page 29 of The Dark Obsession

“What if you were just tired, darling? Seeing things. Stress and anxiety can do horrible things.” His hand caresses my cheek, and I turn into it and rest my lips against his thumb. His explanation makes so much sense that I close my eyes in relief.

My eyes fill with tears, and again, Dale rubs my back as the tears flow from my eyes onto his chest. He doesn’t say a word. I listen to Dale’s uneven breathing as he rests his chin on my head.

“What do I do now, Dale?” I ask, my voice trembling.

“We wait, doll. We wait.”

I watch Dale through the TV’s blank reflective screen as he regards me with what I swear is a grin. I turn my head and look up. His lips are the opposite of a grin, turned down at both sides. Through clouded eyes I look at him again, unsure as to why I feel so disturbed, why his upside down smile seems like a charade.

Silently, we sit. He cleans the cut on my hairline and reassures me that no-one can see it through my hair. He flicks through the teleshopping programs and stops every now and again to look at a product—a blue diamond necklace, a back massager, and a hunting set equipped with fishing knives.

“Maybe, one day, I can take you on a hunting trip with me,” Dale whispers and inhales deeply into my hair.

“I don’t think I’d be any good at that.” I peek at him through a sheet of my hair.

“You, in a tent with me all night, completely alone in the wilderness, needing to keep warm on a cold English night? I think you’d be great.” He chuckles.

“I didn’t picture you as a hunter,” I say, watching his face.

Dale’s lip twitches before he laughs loudly. “You’d be surprised at what I like to do.”

The room grows lighter with every kiss from Dale, and with every touch, I’m left craving something else, something comforting. And for some reason, Dale is not helping with that on this hellish morning. Maybe he plans to distract me, but instead, each time I take a deep breath, a powerful nesting fear fills the pit of my stomach. I’m surprised at the lack of comfort I’m feeling. Nothing can hold back the growing monster I feel the second I close my eyes. It’s tearing me up inside. I feel almost reliant on his firm grip around me, to keep me from falling apart, even when I don’t particularly feel any safer with him now than I did before.

“I best get dressed,” I whisper, tugging my hand free.

He rises quickly, wrapping an arm around my waist, and walks me into my room. The last time we were in this bedroom was when all I wanted was him. Things change so quick. It seems like a lifetime away since I felt safe within his arms. An embarrassing tear builds in the corner of my eye.

Dale’s lips touch my eye before it falls, wiping it away with his plump lips. “It’s okay, baby.” His hand slips to my lower back. He sits me on the end of my bed and heads for my wardrobe. He retrieves some blue skinny jeans and a grey button-up shirt. He stands in front of me, taking my hands, and eases me into a standing position. He looks at me, his eyes desperate. Maybe he’s waiting for consent or searching for any emotion at all. He seems pacified with my weak smile, and he lifts my shirt over my head. His eyes linger on my chest before putting the shirt on me.

I can see the hunger in his eyes, but he makes no attempt or even mention of what is inevitably on his mind.

He doesn’t fasten the buttons on my shirt; I reach for them myself. He pushes my hands away and barely looks at me when he drops to his knees. He silently unzips the side of my skirt, and his hands tremble on my thigh. “Rosa …” he says with a deep breath and bites hard onto his bottom lip. His hands clench my thighs, forcing my heart to thump in my chest. He jumps up and locks his lips onto mine.

I grasp his hair to pull his face back, not ready for this type of intimacy.

He gasps for breath and steps backwards, his frame as hard as stone. “Sorry,” he says in a groan, his eyes shining mischievously.

I nod, unsure of how to feel, now desperate to be alone.

“You’re crying.” He comes closer, slower this time, and looks me up and down. His eyebrows angled so high they might have merged with his pale hair. “Here.” He almost throws my jeans at me. “Get dressed.” He sits on the end of my bed.

An unexpected expression of rage flickers across his face when my phone which is on my bed, rings. His face changes—not a single trace of annoyance left in his expression—as he answers the phone and stands to hand it to me. “One moment,” he says sharply into it. He smiles at me as he gives me the phone, his eyes curiously lingering on the screen:Rafael.

I glance at the time—6:15. “Sir.”

“Rafael,” he corrects me with a sigh. “How are you?”

“Well, as fine as I can be after—” I have to stop the words coming from my mouth as my chest rips at its seams.

Dale comes closer to me, definitely able to hear the voice on the other end of the phone. His hands clench into fists as he puts a possessive arm around my waist.

“I want you here, at the office with me. You will feel much better helping out here. We will find out what happened, Rosa.” His tone is thoughtful and powerful. It eases the never-ending throb in my head. The phone goes silent. “Come now. I’m already at the office.”

Dale turns and paces to the other side of my room and back. “Are you going?” he spits, his sharp voice piercing my heart.

“Well, of course. I want to help in any way possible, Dale. Surely you understand.” I grab his arm and pull him to face me as I speak.

He violently shakes his arm from my grasp, then grips my shoulders. He lowers his face to mine, his brown eyes darken as he closes in on me, leaving not an inch between our faces. “He doesn’t need you, Rosalie. He wants you, and you like that,” he whispers fiercely, his hot, sweet breath washing over my face.

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