Page 32 of Lord of Obsession

And make him truly mine.

The aftermath of our explosive confrontation lingers in the air, a tangible charge that even the crowd's raucous jeers can't dispel. Rafael's chest heaves as he slumps against the wall, his eyes never leaving mine. The intensity of his gaze sears through me, a silent acknowledgment of the line we've just crossed.

No more pretense. No more denial.

I jerk my head toward the back exit, a command and invitation in one. He hesitates for a heartbeat, the last vestiges of his carefully cultivated control warring with the hunger I've dragged to the surface. But we both know it's futile. The truth is out, raw and undeniable.

He pushes off the wall, his movements fluid despite the battering he's taken. I lead the way through the throng of spectators, their whispers and speculative glances following us like a physical weight. They know something pivotal has just occurred, even if they can't quite grasp the magnitude.

I push open the door, and the back alley greets us with a blast of cool air, a sharp contrast to the sweat-slicked heat of theunderground fight club. The space is narrow, wedged between crumbling brick buildings that have seen their share of dark deeds. Graffiti snakes across the walls, vibrant slashes of color that barely register as I turn to face Rafael.

He stands a few feet away, his shoulders rising and falling with each ragged breath. Shadows paint his features in stark relief, intensifying the coiled tension radiating from every line of his body. His gaze rakes over me, lingering on my split lip and the fresh bruises blooming across my skin.

"What now?" His voice is a low rasp, barely audible over the distant thrum of bass from a club. "You got what you wanted. Made me admit what I—" He cuts himself off, jaw clenching.

I stalk closer, each step deliberate. "What you are? What you've always been?" The words come out as a purr, dark satisfaction lacing every syllable.

He doesn't retreat as I invade his space, holding his ground with that stubborn tilt to his chin. The barest hint of a smile tugs at my mouth. There's the fighter, the survivor.The man I've been chasing beneath the veneer of civility.

"I am more than my family's legacy." But the declaration rings hollow, uncertainty threading through his tone. "I’m more than violence and brutality."

"Are you?" I'm close enough now to feel the heat rolling off his skin, to catch the scent of exertion and metallic blood. "Then why are you vibrating with the need to make me bleed? Why are your fists clenching with the urge to finish what we started?"

His gaze darts to my mouth, to the crimson stain painting my lips. The simple action sends a bolt of pure electricity down my spine, igniting nerve endings still raw from our clash. I let my eyes flutter closed for a fraction of a second, savoring the simmering tension.

"This doesn't have to be a fight, Rafael." My voice drops to a whisper as I lean in, breath ghosting across his jaw. "Not anymore."

A shudder ripples through him, so faint I almost miss it. When I pull back to meet his gaze, the conflicted swirl of emotions there steals my breath. Anger, desire, fear, longing—all battling for dominance in those amber depths.

"What's the alternative?" His question emerges rough, scraped raw with things long suppressed. "Surrendering to the monster inside? Letting it consume me? Letting it dictate who I am?"

I lift a hand to his face, my thumb grazing the edge of a darkening bruise. He tenses but doesn't flinch away, his skin fever-hot beneath my touch. "The only monster here is the one you've created by denying your true nature." I apply the faintest pressure, feeling his pulse jump erratically. "Stop fighting it. Stop fighting yourself."

His lips part on a sharp inhale, chest shuddering with the force of it. I watch, transfixed, as his tongue darts out to wet the abused flesh. The sight ignites a hunger so intense it borders on pain, a clawing need to taste and claim and possess.

"Dario—"

The rest is lost as I surge forward, capturing his mouth in a searing kiss.

He meets me halfway, a low growl rising from his throat. This isn't the frenzied clash from before, all teeth and desperation. This issomething deeper, something that takes root in my very marrow. A connection forged in blood and darkness and the inescapable pull of destiny.

His hands find my hips, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. I welcome the sting, evidence of his unraveling control. My own grasp settles on his waist, anchoring him to me, to this moment where the world narrows down to heat and want and the inevitable.

I lick into his mouth, chasing hints of liquor and adrenaline. He responds beautifully, angling his head to deepen the kiss. It's a dance of give and take, dominance and submission. A nonverbal conversation that lays bare every unspoken truth between us.

I tear away only when breath becomes a necessity, my lungs screaming for air. But even then, I don't go far, resting my forehead against his as we pant into the scant space separating our lips. His eyes have drifted shut, his long lashes creating delicate shadows against the tops of his cheekbones.

"Look at me." A command and a plea.

Those striking dark brown eyes open, pupils widened and glittering with unleashed heat. The last of his walls crumble, leavinghim exposed and wanting. I feel a thrill of primal satisfaction at the sight, at knowing I'm the reason for his surrender.

"Rafael..." His name is a reverent whisper, flavored with all the dark promises I intend to fulfill. "Let go. Let me show you how good it can be when you embrace what you are."

Something snaps behind his gaze, the final thread of his resistance giving way. Then he's moving, hands fisting in my hair, dragging me back into a kiss that sears my very soul. I meet his urgency with my own, blood singing a twisted hallelujah in my veins.

This is where we've always been heading, from that very first charged exchange in the library. This volatile collision of shadow and bone, a primal recognition of like to like. I want to devour him. I want to worship at the altar of his darkness. I want to make him forget he ever tried to be anything else.

I push him against the damp brick wall, the cold surface a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his body. I trace my tongue over his lips, tasting the coppery tang of blood—my blood—from our violent kiss. His breath hitches as I nip at his bottom lip, a soft moanescaping his lips as I soothe the sting with my tongue.

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