Page 56 of His Darkest Obsession
18
INDIGO
I can't sleep.
The silk sheets feel too smooth and foreign against my skin. I stare at the ceiling as moonlight spills through the curtains and casts shadows across the unfamiliar room.
I want to look them in the eyes when you take their lives.
Those words came from my mouth and in my voice. But they feel like they belonged to someone else. Someone I didn't know existed until yesterday.
Did I really say that to him? Did I really ask a dangerous man I barely know to kill for me?
Yes. I did.
And what terrifies me isn't that I asked. It's that I meant it.
I roll onto my side, curling my knees toward my chest. His hands had been so warm around mine, his grip firm and unyielding as he fed me. And how easily he coaxed out the monster that must’ve been there all along.
He listened and didn’t question. Didn’t judge. He just accepted it, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
I press my face into the pillow, muffling a sound that's half-laugh, half-sob.
If Anatoly actually delivers my parents' murderers to me, can I actually stare into their eyes while he ends their lives?
Yes. Yes, I would.
I roll onto my back and press my palms against my eyes. I want to remember every detail of the moment they realize they're paying for what they've done.
The more I think about it, the darker my thoughts become. It slithers deep into my soul, and coils around my neck until I can feel it choking out all thoughts other than the savage desire to see the light of life be snuffed out in those men’s eyes.
"Fuck." My eyes fly open at the thought.
I've spent two years rebuilding myself after that awful summer. Carefully constructing walls, keeping everyone at arm's length. Dying my hair blue, changing my name, and becoming someone new.
Someone who couldn't be hurt like before.
But in just a few days with Anatoly, he tore those walls down, and I find myself transforming into something that I’m not sure I want to.
Hisbritvochka. His little blade.
He’s shown me just how much further I can keep falling. Because that’s what this is ultimately about, isn’t it?
I don’t want to fuck you just down there. I want to fuck you up here.
In just a few short days, without any provocation other than his presence alone, he’s managed to make me turn into a violent, savage thing. Something bloodthirsty enough to stand up against him. To draw his blood.
To demand him to kill so that I might watch.
He’s my husband in name. My captor in reality. And now… now he wants to be my dark avenger?
I can let him indulge me in my darkest fantasies and cruelest desires. That much I know for a fact.
But if I do, then I’ll be forever bound to him. I’ll have to always play by his rules. To let him toy with me and torment me with excruciating pleasure. To open myself to him and let him take whatever he wants until even this new identity—this blue haired Indigo Taylor—is erased too.
And would that be so bad?
At that thought, I can feel his mouth between my legs again. Feel his hands opening me further. See his eyes staring up at me from between my thighs as I was only seconds away from begging.
