Page 50 of Scent Of Obsession
I jerked awake out of fear.
I darted my eyes at each corner of the lab.It was all a nightmare.I took off the piece of paper that was stuck on my face.I can’t believe I fell asleep.I dropped my stare at the crimson-purple flask containing the Devil’s Corpse. The flower’s oil glowed with hints of dark green glitter. She looked like an obscure potion, straight out of a grimoire of forbidden spells and secrets of lost cities.
I let out a deep breath, and decided to fix the mess on my desk, wanting to not think further about my dream, which left me with a frozen chill behind my spine. My gaze fell on a word written in the middle of the paper, highlighted with two lines.
I must have written this before hallucinating. Rummaging through my research, I had discovered the secret of this flower. The Devil’s Corpse held an insane number of pheromones. For the plants, she was attractive—that’s why inside the greenhouse, she was surrounded by the wildness. To humans, she used her pheromones as a defense mechanism so they’d drift away by her repulsive odor.
I was convinced that mixed with the molecules of another scent, the plant would deliver me the key to the aphrodisiac—and of my perfume. It would allow me to transform the defensive pheromones into lustful ones.
A normal human nose couldn’t possibly detect her pheromones, but mine could. Perhaps because plants spoke to me.
My excitement dissipated in a yawn. I checked the clock. It was 4 a.m. I finally made up my mind to go to sleep. Tomorrow, I had to be ready. A heavy day awaited me.
My nightmare said flowers take root in hell.
But their head was above the earth, looking heavenward to the bright sun.
And perhaps, they could grow one day to heaven.
It’s only four fucking a.m.
“I think…” Melissa interrupted my thoughts, her fingers brushing against my door before she sauntered inside my club office—uninvited. “I’ve never seen you drink.”
That’s because I don’t.
I plunged my gaze inside the treacle color of my whisky, observing the bits of cork particles floating. I gave up everything that would have made me dependent, weakened, or influenced. I had total control of myself, until last night at the opera. I hoped the few drops of alcohol flowing through my veins would be enough to get rid of the memory of her and allow me to find my focus back. But it didn’t.
I pushed the glass away from me and lifted up my stare to glare at Melissa from behind my desk. She sat on my sofa, displaying her crossed legs with a skirt way too short before pouring herself a drink.
“Go back to work.” I had no desire to entertain any type of talk, or anyone for that matter.
“Don’t be like that.” She cackled, her manicured fingers sliding over the crystal glass. “I’ve seen you with her at the opera. She looked cute, but I have to admit, I don’t think she’s your style.”
“And let me guess, you are.” I pulled my lips into a sneer. We had been a one-time thing forever ago. It was short yet destructive and unpleasant enough to not want to do that ever again.
“You got to admit, Radcliff, you and I, we’re the same. We fit.” She shot me a dirty glance. “Neither you nor I are made for love. We’re toxic individuals. Everything we touch, we destroy. I like sex and my freedom, and you are…” Her smile said it all. “Well, you.”
She accepted her fate by swallowing her whole glass. She licked the drops of alcohol from her upper lip, her vicious eyes daring me to ravage her. Melissa was a player, but she was right. We were the same.
Selfish with no principles.
Taking our revenge on life.
Mastering chaos.
“There’s no hope for redemption for people like us. We just have to stick together,” she added, a glint of sadness flickering for the first time in her malicious expression.
I sank backward in my chair, my feet on my desk. I rolled my pen between my fingers, watching it spin like a wheel.
Lily. She didn’t belong to my world. She couldn’t match my darkness. She was born to shine. But here, she’d be the reason for my fall if I let her be more than a key to my goal. I couldn’t let her intoxicate me. I needed to eclipse her from my mind, once and for all.
“That’s why I found Christian,” Melissa hinted.
If I wasn’t so sinister, I would have laughed. Christian Carmin. The rapist.
Melissa was incapable of loving anyone but herself. She was either naive and stupid—flaws that were far from what she was—or she was plotting something with that maniac. After all, he was using her as a sex slave inside the private rooms of my club.
“Great choice.” I couldn’t be more sarcastic and uninterested.
