Captive Bride: A Dark Obsession Romance

by Dark Angel

  I slip out of the bath and dry off with the plush towel that’s been provided. I put different oils on my body and make sure my skin is nice and smooth. Then, I trace the outline of my eyes with some deep black pencil, and I smear on a coating of red lipstick.

  In my closet where my few belongings are hanging, I see a long gray dress that hugs my form perfectly, and I choose that one. Luckily, Tristan did pack some stuff for me.

  And then I put on my lace-up, thigh-high boots. They make me feel powerful and are better than having to wear heels all the time.

  I let my hair down and tousle it over my shoulders before checking my reflection for a final time in the mirror.

  Nervous butterflies twist in my stomach as they usually do. Whenever I’m around Tristan, or in the same vicinity as him, I feel happy and yet so nervous and excited.

  I walk down to the dining room, and it’s just us at the huge table. There are candles lit and soft music playing.

  Tristan is there, looking casual in a cashmere shirt and slacks.

  “What will you drink, baby?”

  “Whatever you’re having.”

  Usually, Merc and Benny dine with us at night, but they’re not here.

  Tristan opens a bottle of red and brings it over to the table. He pours me a glass, and I look at him the entire time, wondering what this could all be about.

  The chef comes out and introduces himself. He tells me the menu items for the night. It’s a five-course meal, and it sounds like it’s going to be very elegant.

  I’m really hungry after my day of walking so many miles around the place.

  But I savor the wine because it’s like the best bottle I’ve ever tasted. Tristan seems to be a wine aficionado. He seems to be an aficionado of a great many things.

  When the chef brings out the first course, I decide it’s time to break the ice.

  “So, Tristan, what is this about? You have me feeling worried.”

  He sips his wine thoughtfully and swishes it around in the glass.

  “I do have something to tell you, Isobel. But I’m afraid you’re not gonna like it,” he says, looking at me determined and businesslike.

  I think I know what he’s going to tell me, and I don’t want to know. I don’t want it to come true. I know it must be about the ongoing war with my family.

  Why else would he call me down here and want to have this private conversation?

  “What is it? I can handle it. Please just tell me,” I say, just wanting to get it over with.

  He’s sitting close to me, closer than ever. He always does.

  He places his hand on my own and says, “Your father knows where you are, Isobel. The battle lines have been drawn.”

  “What? What are you talking about, Tristan? I thought they didn’t know about this place. How did things end up this way?” I ask him.

  “I don’t know, baby. Maybe they have spies here. Maybe they’ve spotted all my guys coming in and out of the city. I just don’t know. But he knows you’re here, and we have to prepare for the worst.”

  I try to tame my raging heart. All I can think about is how much I hate my father at this moment for doing this to me and to my life. Why can’t he just leave us alone?

  Likely, he never thought I could never fall for Tristan Montague. But I have. I will never go back to the Governor or his stupid mansion.

  I will never go back to my old life. I’d rather die first.

  I think of something to say, anything.

  “Well Tristan, can’t we just run away somewhere? You must have houses all over the world. Let’s just pick one and go there. My father will never find us,” I say, pleading with him.

  He doesn’t even take a minute to think about my suggestion. His intent is to have this war with my father.

  He looks at me unsmiling and says, “No, Isobel. It can’t be like that. I don’t run from a fight; you know that. It would ruin my family and my honor to run away from this.”

  I can’t stop the tears that are pooling in my eyes. I can’t believe he’s saying this to me.

  “Isn’t our love more important than all that? Don’t you care about me more than some delusional sense of family honor?”

  He looks at me regretfully, and I know the answer is no. His name means everything to him—more than I do, apparently.

  “Isobel, confronting this is something I need to do. Please try to understand. I will keep you safe through all of this.”

  I throw my napkin on the table and get out. I can’t even look at him. If he’s willing to destroy all that we have for some battle, then I have nothing more to say to him.

  “You know what, Tristan? Screw you and your family honor and everything you think you stand for. You’re doing the wrong thing. And I can’t even look at you,” I say as a storm out of the room.

  I run as fast as I can to my room in the tower. The bodyguards look at me, but I don’t care.

  Let them see me cry. Nothing matters now.

  All I can envision is Tristan’s impending death and possibly my own. He’s putting us both in danger with his reckless need to prove something about being a Montague.

  I get to my room, and I slam the door behind me. I hope he doesn’t come find me. I’m not ready to talk to him.

  Think about loving somebody so much and then knowing that they could very possibly die within the next few days, and you’ll know something about where I’m at.

  Once inside the safe confines of my own space, I crouch down to the floor and begin to cry.

  I should’ve known happiness could never be in my grasp.

  It evades me every time.

  20

  Tristan

  The moment Isobel leaves the room, I become aware of just how vast and empty the space is without her presence.

  My entire life has been spent within these walls.

  I know every nook and cranny of this house.

  They are remnants of a life surrounded by loneliness, endowed with the pain that I’ve never had the courage to speak of...until now.

  The emotion that surges through me is a concoction of anger and confusion.

  It’s as if my own heart is indecisive about what to feel.

  I’m sitting by the dining room table, with a glass of bourbon.

  My fingers drum on the pristine surface of the tabletop, as my mind lingers in a state of contemplative reasoning.

  I take a deep breath and unfurl my tightly-clasped fist.

  I’ve never been able to deal with people walking out on me, and so watching Isobel run out of this room has put me in a foul mood.

  Everything tells me that I should run after her, but frankly, I’m not even sure what to say to her.

  How can I face this woman, when the very essence of my actions betrays her?

  Isobel or my family.

  It’s a choice I’ll invariably have to make.

  As the moment pass, I’m becoming increasingly tormented by my decision. Of course, I’ve made it already.

  I choose her.

  I will always choose her.

  I love Isobel with all of my heart, and yet I have to hurt her. This damn war is the problem, unceasing and unrelenting it always remains.

  I sigh, lifting the glass to my lips.

  To think that before today, choosing my family has always been my priority.

  I was raised to honor blood before heart.

  I can remember my grandfather telling me as a boy, “Only a fool would turn his back on those who raised him. It’s your duty to stand with your family. The Montagues must win this eternal war.”

  His words have remained a constant mantra throughout my life.

  I had always relied on his words as a guiding force. But now, the foundation of everything that I thought to be true has been tested and broken apart.

  I suddenly don’t know what to believe. Family honor brought my life no meaning. I never cared whether I lived or died.

  But Isobel…she’s like a breath of fresh air when I had b
een suffocating.

  She’s a beautiful storm, wild and raging, who entered my life without warning, and caused me to reconsider just where my heart lies.

  I look toward the stairs. It’s been nearly two hours since she ascended those steps.

  “It’s time to face the music,” I say aloud.

  My voice disappears into the overwhelming silence. I rise out of the mahogany chair and push it back in place.

  I turn towards the staircase. I pause briefly at the base to consider the wrath I’m about to endure.

  She wants to run away, to have me turn my back on family and friends and just disappear.

  I can’t do that. And what she doesn’t understand is that running will only get you so far. The Capulets will search everywhere until they find her. She’s the heiress, the princess.

  There’s no escape that doesn’t end in death.

  I head upstairs, knowing I’ll have to break her heart.

  I get to her room and try to twist the handle, but it’s locked.

  I pound on the door.

  “Isobel, open up now. You’ve had your fun. Now it’s time to reconsider your actions.”

  There’s nothing but silence from her.

  “Isobel, are you in there?” I say, becoming impatient.

  No answer.

  “Open the goddamn door, Isobel. Now.”

  I bang on it loudly.

  “You’ve got three seconds. One, two...”

  Dead silence, and then the first sign of life.

  “Go away, Tristan,” she says.

  The broken intonation in her speech tells me that she’s trying not to cry.

  “I just wanna talk to you,” I say.

  “I don’t want see you. Leave me alone.”

  The tinge of anger and insolence in her voice makes me feel all the more furious.

  “Isobel, open this door right now, or I swear I’ll break it down.”

  She opens it.

  Good girl.

  “We need to talk,” I say.

  She glares at me, and I see hurt and anger in her eyes. I know she doesn’t mean it. I know she’s afraid that she’ll have to go back to her father or that this will end badly.

  “About what?” she says, crossing her arms.

  She’s angry, but she’s also protecting her heart from me.

  I get the feeling that our future is hinged on this moment.

  If I don’t tread carefully or consider her words, I’ll destroy the very foundation of the love that has begun to blossom between us.

  “I’m doing everything I can to make you happy, but you don’t understand that this is business. It’s war, not personal,” I say.

  “Then why don’t you tell me, instead of just shutting me out?” she asks.

  “I’m not trying to shut you out, Isobel. But there’s nothing to do. The Capulets know we’re here. There’s no more hiding. We’ll have to face them.”

  “Fuck,” she says. “I don’t want to go back to them, Tristan. What if you lose and I have to marry the Governor? What then? If we run away now, we can make it. We can start over, and I don’t know why you won’t even consider that.”

  I try to hold her, but she pushes me away.

  “Isobel, I promise you, we can’t run from this. They will find us.”

  Her eyes fill with tears, and it’s the saddest sight.

  “Come here,” I say softly.

  And she does.

  I envelop her in my arms, and she leans against my chest. Her tears begin to spill.

  “I’m scared, Tristan. I don’t want to lose you. I just found you.”

  I gently push her back and then kiss her.

  It’s a kiss that’s meant to say, You won’t lose me. Not ever.

  But I can’t guarantee that, so I don’t say the words. I just hope my meaning is found in the kiss. I hope she knows none of this is meant to hurt her.

  I reach my hand out and draw her gaze upwards so that we’re at eye level.

  The injury I’ve caused is so raw on her face. I just want to fix it.

  I have to make this right. And I have an unbridled need to consume her and to make her see that I’m the one she’s been waiting for.

  I’d lay my life down for her. I’d do anything to see her smile again.

  I sweep her up in my arms.

  “Tristan?” she says, her eyes questioning.

  “You don’t trust me, and I need you to,” I say, turning to take her to my own master suite.

  I need a proper bed to ravage this beauty, and ravage her I will.

  “If my words don’t convince you, then let my body speak. I’m going to fuck you so hard before this night is done,” I say.

  My words send a shiver through her body, I can tell. She should be nervous. With the way I’m feeling now, there will be nothing innocent left of Isobel Capulet.

  I plan on showing her how the earth can quake and shift beneath her, if only she will submit to me.

  My room is just a few feet away. After all, I would never keep her far out of my sight.

  I kick the door open and enter. I throw her down on the bed and then I look at her with what can only be described as fire in my eyes.

  “I know you’re angry with me, Isobel, but there’s no way around this war, so let me show you how pleasure is done the Montague way. And maybe you’ll come to trust me soon enough.”

  Isobel doesn’t react for a moment, but then she nods slightly and in her own way. I suppose she’s giving me the go ahead.

  I approach her slowly.

  I stand in front of the bed and watch her closely.

  “Strip,” I say.

  She does what I command, and I just enjoy watching her take her time to undress for my eyes alone.

  She’s my treat.

  My feast.

  My ultimate desire.

  She’s finally naked, and my eyes are hungry with longing and lust.

  I undress and watch as she looks at the length of my cock with wide eyes. She wants it bad. And luckily for her, I’m a good master.

  “Suck it,” I say to her, my voice unwavering and full of conviction.

  She crawls over to me on the bed, and the sight of my Capulet princess submitting to me makes my cock throb harder.

  She wraps her hot mouth around my cock. The width and size are just too much for her, but I enjoy watching her try to take in all of me.

  “Good fucking slut,” I say hoarsely. “Take it all in.”

  She peers up at me from under her thick eyelashes, and I wrap my hand around her blonde hair. I pull her in close to me, forcing the length of my shaft down her throat.

  She moans around me, and I nearly spray my load into her mouth, but I resist, wanting to drag out her pleasure for as long as possible.

  I move her head back and forth along my shaft by the hair I have hold of. I tug at it hard, and she screams around me in lust or pain, one of the two, or maybe both.

  “Good slut,” I say. “Now let me taste your pussy.”

  She pops my cock out of her mouth and proceeds to lick it almost frantically, because she can’t get enough, that much is apparent.

  “Fuck yeah, my little Capulet whore. Daddy likes that so much.”

  She twirls her tongue around the head of my cock, and I’m just aching to explode all over her perfect face.

  She’s a supermodel.

  A princess.

  A fucking goddess whose lips are mine, whose tits are mine, and whose tight little pussy I’m about to devour.

  It takes all my inner strength to make her stop sucking my thick cock, but at last I pull away and push her back down on the bed. I spread her wide and immediately kiss and lick her sweet little cunt.

  Mine.

  I’ve won the finest treasure in all the land...Isobel, heiress, prisoner, Capulet.

  None of that matters now.

  Her past is erased.

  And so is my own.

  Because I know, as I lick and flick her clit open, that she�
��s mine permanently.

  There’s no escaping a love like this.

  And why would I want to?

  21

  Isobel

  His lips dive deeply into my pussy, and I echo out a resounding cry of pleasurable pain.

  He’s fingering me too, grazing his long fingers over my G-spot, back and forth, to the point that I think I might die.

  The orgasm is coming and rising like a tidal wave, and I can’t resist his tongue and teeth and his hot mouth on me.

  “Oh, Tristan, please stop. I swear I’m coming so hard for you.”

  He doesn’t stop. My words mean nothing to him. He’ll do as he wills; he always does.

  And right now, he wants to taste me.

  My Montague prince, this man I was raised to be so afraid of, has become my new obsession. He’s all-consuming, and he makes me feel as though I could fly. And indeed I do.

  With a circular motion of his tongue around my clit, I’m flying high over the edge of all reality and into unknown bliss.

  The thing about it is I know I will safely fall into his arms.

  No matter how deep he forces me to go, I can always come back up for air with him as my ultimate guide. He’d rather die than see me fall eternally.

  I raise my hips up to meet his mouth as I come hard. And he tastes me, licking away so much of my essence.

  A dark expression crosses his face and then he’s pulling up, spreading my legs wide so that he can fuck me.

  I’m not yet ready. I haven’t yet come down from the earth-shattering climax that’s still coursing through my body.

  “Tristan, no, I’m still not ready. It’s too soon.”

  A wicked kind of grin spreads across his face. “Oh, but you are ready, Isobel.”

  He thrusts into me deeply, and I cry out, and soon my orgasm is heightening, threatening to peak to unknown realms.

  He pumps into me slowly and with ease, knowing that for every second he draws out the pleasure, my climax is reaching new heights.

  “Fuck, Tristan. Oh my god. It’s so fucking good. I’m gonna die,” I say as I erupt again and again around him.

  “You’re not gonna die, my princess. You’re just with me now, and brace yourself because it’s always gonna be this way,” he says as he pumps in and out, faster and faster.