Page 44 of His Darkest Obsession
I have to stop this! I have to!
Without thinking, I bite down on his bottom lip. Hard.
Anatoly jerks back, surprise flashing across his face. A bead of crimson wells up on his lip where my teeth broke skin.
Blood.
His tongue darts out and collect a droplet of red. But his eyes never leave mine, and their blue flames are practically setting me alight. Both of us stare at each other, and I know that the words echoing in his head are the same as the ones in mine.
You’ve drawn my blood twice now without consequence. Once with your hands, and once with your mouth. And after the third time, therewillbe consequences.
I should be afraid.
I should be regretting what I did.
But all I feel is a thrill thrumming down my spine until it meets the wet pulsing heat between my legs.
Anatoly's expression transforms slowly. Surprise melts away, and is replaced with a dark and hungry look of vicious approval.
"Three times," he murmurs, voice low enough that only I can hear.
My stomach flips, and I almost stammer out to him that I didn't mean to make him bleed.
But if I do that, then he won't make good on what he's said.
The sun inches higher above us. A bead of sweat rolls down the side of my ribs. My breath comes out in quick shallow pants that sync with my thumping heart.
I turn on my heels and run.
My heart thunders in my ears, drowning out everything else: the sound of the waves crashing in the distance, the cry of seagulls flying overhead, and even the sound of my own breathing.
The white dress swishes around my legs as I flee from the wedding arch, from Anatoly, and away from what I've just done.
What have I done?
Three times! I've drawn his blood three times.
Cold air caresses my face as I run toward the mansion, not daring to look back. He's behind me, following. I know he is.
The grand doors of the mansion welcome me into their cool embrace. The marble floor practically sings beneath my feet as I take the stairs two at a time, my hand clutching the banister for support.
My chest heaves with each ragged breath. The wedding dress constricts around my ribs. I reach the landing and dart down the hallway toward my room, fling the door open, stumble inside, and slam it shut behind me.
But I don't stop.
I continue retreating until my back presses against the cold unfeeling window just like when he almost kissed me two days ago. My pulse won't slow. My mind won't quiet.
Stupid, stupid, stupid! What were you thinking? You weren't thinking, that's the problem.
I press my hands to my burning cheeks. The gold wedding band catches the sunlight streaming through the window, taunting me with its permanence.
Then I hear it.
Footsteps in the hallway.
Not hurried like mine but slow and deliberate. The sound of someone who knows that his prey has nowhere left to run.
My breath comes faster. Heat floods my face and spreads down my neck, pooling low in my belly. I should be terrified. I should be looking for escape routes, weapons, anything.
