A Dangerous Obsession
Chapter 110 - 109

Chapter 110: Chapter 109

I exhaled sharply. "Shut up and leave."

Silence.

Then, a soft exhale—sharp, almost wounded. But she didn’t leave.

Instead, I heard the rustle of fabric, the light tap of her bare feet against the cold marble floor. And then she was beside me, close enough that I could feel the unnatural warmth of her presence.

Her smirk was gone.

"All you have to do is accept me," she whispered, her voice low, desperate. "Your destined mate."

I clenched my jaw, but I didn’t look at her.

"That’s how it’s supposed to be," she continued, her voice trembling with something raw, something fragile. "That’s how it should!"

Slowly, I turned to face her.

Her silver eyes burned, shimmering like molten stars. There was something unhinged in them, something teetering on the edge of madness.

I leaned in.

Her breath hitched.

Her pupils dilated, her gaze flickering downward—to my lips.

I nearly laughed.

The great and powerful goddess, undone by something as simple as proximity.

I scoffed. "Leave."

Her eyes snapped up, fury flashing through them like a storm.

For a moment, I thought she might strike me.

But she didn’t.

She held my gaze, her body trembling with rage... and then, in the blink of an eye, she was gone.

The only trace of her was the faint scent of ozone lingering in the air.

I turned back to the window.

The garden stretched before me, untouched by the chaos that had just transpired. But my thoughts were not so easily settled.

Because even as I stood there, alone, I could still hear her voice.

That’s how it’s supposed to be. That’s how it should be.

I curled my fingers into a fist, my claws digging into my palm.

How dare her!

The night stretched on, thick with an eerie stillness, but my mind was anything but calm. My jaw remained clenched as I fastened the clasp of my cloak at my throat, the heavy fabric settling around my shoulders. The sensation was grounding, a stark contrast to the restless thoughts twisting inside me.

The goddess’s words lingered in the air, clinging to my skin like a curse. All you have to do is accept me.

I scoffed under my breath, brushing a stray lock of hair from my face. As if destiny was something I ever obeyed.

Without another thought, I turned on my heel and strode through the dim corridors of my castle, the torches along the walls flickering at my passing. Shadows stretched in my wake, dark and unrelenting. The guards bowed their heads as I moved past them, their expressions carefully blank. They knew better than to meet my gaze when my mood was this sour.

I walked through the long hallway, my boots making barely a whisper against the cold stone floor. The scent of midnight roses and aged parchment greeted me as I neared the chamber I sought—the one that held my bride.

My fingers curled around the ornate handle of the door, the metal cold against my skin.

I hesitated for only a moment before pushing it open.

The soft glow of candlelight illuminated the room, casting long golden shadows across the plush rugs and draped silks. The scent of lavender and something faintly sweet lingered in the air. A contrast to the darkness that bled from my presence.

And there she was.

Fast asleep.

Her breathing was soft, steady, barely a whisper in the silence of the room.

Her long dark hair spread over the pillows, strands curling like dark ribbons against the pale fabric. The silver bracelet on her wrist caught the light, a subtle reminder of the protection I had given her. And yet, she remained fragile, unaware of how close danger always lingered.

Around her, her cats lay curled in a protective circle, their small chests rising and falling in time with hers. One of them—a silver-furred creature—flicked its tail but didn’t stir as I stepped closer.

I reached out before I could think better of it.

My fingers brushed through the strands of her hair, the softness surprising me.

She shifted slightly, her lips parting with a quiet sigh.

Pouty. Plush.

The kind of lips made for temptation.

I knew how they tasted. I knew the warmth of them, the way they trembled under my touch.

And knowing that I could not taste them at the moment was more infuriating than I had expected.

My hand curled into a fist, retreating before my control could slip any further.

I stood there for a moment longer, watching her.

Wanting.

Hating that I wanted.

She slept so deeply, so blissfully unaware of the darkness that surrounded her—of me.

My fingers curled at my sides, tension thrumming beneath my skin. She is mine, I reminded myself.

She shifted slightly, and my breath stilled. One of her hands, small and delicate, slipped from under the covers, resting just inches from where I stood. Her fingers twitched in sleep, as if reaching for something—or someone.

A scowl tugged at my lips.

I had seen her hands clenched into fists before, trembling with defiance. I had seen them grip the fabric of her skirts in frustration, in anger. But never like this. Never so unguarded.

One of the cats stirred, lifting its head. Its golden eyes met mine, unblinking, as if it knew.

A low scoff left my lips, barely more than a whisper in the quiet room.

"Even in your sleep, you test me," I murmured, my voice laced with something I refused to acknowledge.

With a flick of my wrist, my cloak billowed as I turned from her bed, the heavy fabric sweeping across the floor like a shadow.

The scent of her lingered on my fingers. Soft. Warm. Maddening.

I flexed my hand as I strode through the dimly lit corridors of my castle, my heavy cloak billowing behind me. The weight of my own thoughts pressed against my skull, gnawing at the edges of my control.

I had stayed too long.

Watched her for too long.

She was intoxicating, even in sleep.

The halls were empty at this hour, the torches flickering in their iron sconces, casting jagged shadows along the stone walls. The silence suited me. No servants scurrying about, no unwanted interruptions. Just the steady thud of my boots against the floor, echoing in the vast emptiness of my castle.

And yet, even with the silence, I could still hear the goddess’s voice slithering through my mind.

"All you have to do is accept me. Your destined mate."

Fate. Destiny. A cruel joke.

I scoffed under my breath, my jaw tightening.

I had never been the kind of man to kneel to fate. I carved my own path, bled my own way through the centuries. The idea that some celestial force had preordained my life, my mate, was laughable.

My mate was lying in that bed, her hair spilling over the pillows, her lips parted in sleep.

I reached my chamber, pushing open the massive double doors with more force than necessary. The impact sent a gust of air rushing through the room, disturbing the dying embers in the fireplace.

The moment I stepped inside, the scent of spiced wine and burnt wood wrapped around me, familiar and grounding. I welcomed it. Anything to drown out the lingering scent of her.

A half-empty goblet of wine sat on the table where I had left it earlier. I grabbed it without hesitation, tilting it back and draining the rest of the dark, bitter liquid in a single swallow.

The warmth did nothing to ease the tension in my chest.

With a frustrated sigh, I yanked off my cloak, tossing it onto the chair near the fireplace. The flames crackled, casting long shadows along the stone walls. My shoulders rolled as I stretched, trying to shake the stiffness from my muscles.

And yet, despite the heat of the fire, despite the warmth of the wine curling through my veins, I still felt cold.

A dangerous kind of cold.

The kind that crept into my bones, that settled behind my ribs like a lurking beast, waiting—watching.

It had been a long time since I had felt anything this potent.

A century ago, I would have dismissed it. Laughed at the mere idea of it.

But now?

Now, I wasn’t so sure.

With a low growl, I poured myself another glass of wine, the deep red liquid swirling like blood in the dim light. I brought it to my lips, savoring the burn as it slid down my throat.

My thoughts drifted—unwanted, unbidden—back to her.

Back to the way she had looked curled up in that bed, the soft rise and fall of her breath. Back to the way my fingers had traced the strands of her hair, the way her lips had pouted in sleep.

How easy it would be to wake her.

To steal another taste.

To remind her exactly who she belonged to.

I exhaled sharply, gripping the goblet tighter.