Obscene: A Dahlia Saga Novel

by Natalie Bennett

  If that’s what it was. I always told him to stop, but that’s not actually what I wanted. There was something about being hurt by him that I secretly enjoyed.

  Damn, I was a fucked up individual. And the blonde he killed? Once she was dead, I was more horrified that I wasn’t horrified, justifying it by knowing that there was nothing I could do to save her.

  I hated this feeling of being torn right down the middle. The second our eyes met, Mason infected me like an airborne pathogen. Whatever was manifesting between us was dangerous. I wanted him, but I was supposed to hate him.

  That’s what was expected, right? None of the girls in the documentaries felt more at home with the man holding them captive than they had with their families.

  Stop comparing yourself to other girls. You aren’t like other girls.

  Pushing off the bed, I wandered into the large closet. Staring at my reflection in the large mirror hanging on the wall, the bruises Mason left behind were fading, and aside from that, I didn’t look much different than I had before he took me.

  All the clothes surrounding me seemed to have been handpicked by him specifically. I hated the colors red and yellow; my mother only bought me clothes in those spectrums. There wasn’t a hint of them anywhere, hung up or on a shelf.

  He knew so much about me that it should have been unnerving, but I considered it endearing that he put so much effort into making me comfortable.

  Why can’t you just accept him?

  “He’s a murderer,” I mumbled, running my fingers through my hair.

  He’s special.

  Walking back into the room, I eyed the white roses on the fireplace mantle.

  The pretty white flower was a constant reminder that it was he who thought about me often enough to load up my hospital room with flowers and balloons. Enough that I always got a delivery on the days I felt the worst.

  Sure, it could be considered insignificant and meaningless to some, but it mattered to me. A man who took the time to have that done couldn’t be all bad.

  The law of attraction was clearly at work, because not a second later the door swung open and I was staring at Mason. He stood in the doorway, holding a giant white bag, smirking when I glared.

  “Did you miss me?”

  “No,” I quickly responded, hoping my voice didn’t convey the truth. His growing smile told me that he wasn’t fooled. I didn’t miss him exactly, but I wasn’t ashamed to admit that I loved not being alone.

  Since he took me, he never left me for long. He stepped into the room with a serious expression replacing his grin.

  “I’m sorry I locked you away.”

  “I’ve always been locked away,” I huffed, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

  “Well, that’s about to change. You’re too pretty to be in a cage. I’m going to make sure you live.”

  Watching him walk to the bed and dump the contents of his bag, I knew I’d heard that line before.

  “You’re too pretty to be in a cage. I’m going to make sure you live.”

  If you trusted yourself, you would have figured this out a long time ago.

  “You said I didn’t know you!” I unselfconsciously began to rub my chest, something I did when I was upset. My brain was trying to click the pieces together; he was too familiar. Was this the man who had saved my life?

  “Katie, you don’t know me. You barely remember me. I’ve been trying to fuck some sense into you since you got here. If you remember anything at all from now on, it’s going to be my cock.”

  “I don’t understand. What does that even mean?”

  “We can talk about it later; I need you to get ready for dinner.”

  “You say that a lot, Mason. I think you’re full of shit.” I regretted the words as soon as I said them. The change in his demeanor was instant.

  It was beyond frustrating, not knowing how to deal with him. He was changing everything; he was changing me so rapidly in such a short window of time that it was morally terrifying.

  “I may be a lot of things, but a liar has never been one of them, and full of shit is another.”

  His green eyes narrowed, pinning me to the wall. When he began rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, I looked around for some type of escape route.

  I took one small step to the right, and that was as far as I got. He was too quick for me to move much further, crushing me between him and the plaster. I stared up at him, my breath coming in little spurts.

  Beg him to hurt you. You know it’s what you want.

  Swallowing, I was almost prepared to listen and do just that, but Mason did it himself without me having to say a word.

  “You test my patience to the limit. If you were anyone else, you’d be dead.” He grabbed my jaw, gripping it so hard, it popped. Something that sounded between a grunt and a squeal got caught in my throat.

  He crushed his mouth to mine, squeezing harder when I clamped down. Whimpering, I parted my lips, feeling his tongue skate across the roof of my mouth and intertwine with mine. The minty cinnamon flavor I loved teased my taste buds.

  I loathed this new, constant ache between my thighs and the fantasies in my mind where he overpowered me and made me do degrading things.

  All the while, I silently begged him not to stop.

  As he held me against the wall, it was like a switch flipped in my brain and someone else took over. I bit down on his tongue, causing him to grunt and jerk away. When I attempted to shove him, he caught my wrists, pinning them to the wall by my sides.

  He stole what air there was between us, chuckling softly into my hairline. After pressing a kiss to my forehead, he pulled back slightly to look at me.

  “You like this,” he murmured.

  Licking my lips, I tried to look away, feeling my face flame. I couldn’t admit the truth to myself or him. The voice in my head urged me to give in. Sometimes, I wished I could be more like that Katie. She spoke her mind and would have told him how I felt.

  He let go of my wrists, bringing his hands up to cup my face.

  “Give me permission to fuck and abuse you.” His voice was back to being gentle, just like his touch. I wanted this moment between us to never end. Why did the good things have to come with the bad?

  Say yes.

  “Okay.” Slowly nodding, I furrowed my brows in confusion when he stepped away. Embarrassment made me want to sink through the floor. What was I even doing?

  Before I could think too hard about it, he was leaning back down to brush his lips across my cheek.

  “After dinner. There’s something I need to show you.”

  When he stepped back again, I saw the dark look in his eyes. I heard the promise in his tone. Part of me was excited; the other was mortified at what I had just done.

  Chapter Seventeen

  If my head spun any more, it would spin right off my shoulders. After Mason had been assured that I knew how to use a razor without trying to kill myself, he left me to get showered and dressed.

  Only, now that I was alone, standing beneath a steady stream of hot water, all I could do was think. Funny how that worked. When he was near me, all I could see was him.

  When he was gone, I forced myself to think of the bigger picture. Otherwise, I would only think of him.

  I examined every inch of my body like it held the answers to my questions. What did he want from me? There had to be something.

  I’d told myself to harden my heart and snuff out the absurd feelings I felt for him, but it was easier said than done. I felt so naturally comfortable around him. The awkward girl barely made an appearance. When he called me beautiful, I knew he meant it.

  How could he say I barely remembered him? I might not have known his face, but I knew his voice. In the recess of my mind, I even knew his touch. He’d pulled me from a tub of bath water full of blood, holding me on his lap and refusing to let me go.

  The man had saved my life not once, but twice. I’m not sure he was aware of the second time, or maybe he had a freaky sixth
sense when it came to me.

  I never saw his face that night; I only heard his voice rousing me from slipping away. I felt his suit jacket around my shoulders before I was comfortably numb.

  The mysterious man I’d been desperate to see again was Mason Andreou. How could someone so sweet, gentle, and kind have a hobby that involved murdering people? And why the fuck didn’t that bother me more than it was?

  What if Mason was like me, and I was like him? Maybe we were two halves of one soul. If only my head would let me be. I could voice all these thoughts aloud.

  I had questions. My entire twenty-one years of life, and all I had were questions. I should have demanded answers in more than half the situations I found myself in. I didn’t even find out why he locked me up.

  It was time to get answers for once, and that required me to lead with my head and not my heart. But that was easier said than done when my mind could turn against me at any given moment.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Mason said the word ‘sexy,' and I felt like a turtle trying to put on a clown costume.

  He brought me a two-piece lacy little number and a sheer robe to go over it. I did my best to pull it together. Honestly, I had no clue what I was doing. The result was my reflection in the mirror looking better than I felt.

  No, I didn’t want to wear the ridiculous ensemble, but if I was ever going to figure him out and find out what was going on, I couldn’t rebel at every chance I got.

  Using the banister to guide me, I slowly walked down the stairs. The strong aroma of hot food was in the air, making my mouth water. When was the last time I’d eaten something?

  Not seeing Mason in the foyer, I wandered into the dining room, but he wasn’t there either.

  Figuring he would show up like he always seemed to do, I walked to the living room. The night I had tried to get away from him, I’d seen some of his paintings on the wall.

  There were four of them, each on their own canvas. Two were done in darker colors, and two were abstract. They were grotesque and morbid, but at the same time intriguing and unique.

  Just like Mason.

  If I hadn’t known what his muse was behind them, I never would have suspected corpses. None of the paintings featured the room or the chair.

  One of the abstracts had a woman missing her eyes, but her mouth had been sewn closed around one of them in the middle.

  A darker painting had a man in it. His skin looked similar to an eroded penny, and his nose was missing. Without realizing what I was doing, I began tracing the outline of the frame. I could picture Mason taking his time to get the definition just right.

  How did something like this manifest into a hobby? I wanted to be a violinist once, but I didn’t go around slicing people up for inspiration.

  “What do you think?”

  I jumped, pulling my hand back as if I’d been caught doing something wrong. Looking over at him leaning against the door frame, I felt my face flush.

  He’d left me with a jumble of conflicted feelings and a body that ached for his touch. Seeing him again had them returning full force. I shifted on my feet, squeezing my thighs together. It was uncomfortable, to say the least. I had crotchless underwear on and could feel the heat gathering between my legs.

  “They’re interesting,” I admitted honestly, looking away.

  “Do you like them?” he questioned, coming to stand behind me, sliding his arms around my waist. I melted back into him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

  “I do like them,” I answered quietly.

  Five points for honesty.

  “Are these all of them?”

  “Katie-Kat, I’m thirty-two years old. There have been way more than just four.” He smiled against my neck, maneuvering me away from the wall.

  He was thirty-two? That meant he had a good eleven years on me.

  “How did you know what I did?” The question burst from my mouth like a balloon losing helium. Turning me around, he looked down at me as if debating how he wanted to respond.

  “When I realized I couldn’t trust your mother, I put cameras in your house. I just happened to be around that night. I saw it on my phone.” He didn’t bat an eyelid after dropping that bomb. “It must have been fate for me to save your life.”

  “There is so much wrong with everything you just said. Mostly that you know my mother. I thought you knew my dad.”

  “Come with me. There’s something I need to show you.” He kept one arm around my waist, guiding me out of the room and down the back hall.

  We walked into an office that sat all the way at the end; it was a room that had been locked shut the night before.

  There was a large mahogany desk in the center of the room; a thick black leather chair sat behind it. Rows of dark shelves were built into the back wall. A leather sofa was directly across from it, and a large arched window made up one entire wall. I assumed it gave him a full view of his backyard.

  “Sit here.” He walked me around the desk and sat me in his chair. I watched him fiddle with the computer mouse and pull up a white screen with various dates logged on a spreadsheet.

  “Do you see these dates?” He dragged a little black cursor up and down the screen.

  “Yes,” I answered, nodding.

  “Do you see today’s date?” He pointed across the room to where a calendar hung on the wall, then moved his cursor to the bottom part of the monitor to show me it said the same thing.

  “I see it,” I acknowledged that they were a little over a year apart, wondering where he was going with this.

  “Good. Now listen.”

  He hit a play button, and a woman’s robotic voice started speaking, reciting that the date was May eleventh, year two thousand and seventeen. Two voices began speaking after that, a conversation I could immediately tell was between Mason and my mother.

  Mason: “I’m beginning to think you’re obsessed with me. What do you need at three in the morning?”

  Glenda: “You would know all about obsession, considering Katie is all you seem to be interested in.”

  Glancing at Mason, I wondered if he had heard the blatant hostility in her voice when she said my name.

  As the conversation continued, the way she felt about me became even clearer.

  Mason: Are you drunk?

  Glenda: I wish I were drunk. I wanted to be sure we were still on the same page. You never answer when I call, so I figured now was a great time.

  Mason: Some people actually work, Glenda. I know the concept is strange to you, but I like having money to afford the finer things in life. Nothing has changed. We tell her nothing. We both know she can’t handle the truth.

  Glenda: Ah, yes. Money. I had the privilege of affording nice things too, once. Then that bastard gave me two kids, and all the money seemed to vanish.

  Mason: The next time you feel the need to have an emotional one on one, call a fucking therapist.

  Glenda: I’ll be coming to see you soon, Mason.

  There was a little beep after that, and the audio ended. I sat staring at the screen long after he hit the big X in the corner.

  “Mason, what are you trying to tell me?”

  “Look at this.” He gestured to the screen again, this time showing me a web page with my father’s house displayed.

  I watched the screen move down to a part that said ‘Pricing and History.'

  One click of a button had me even more confused. The house had been sold July twenty-sixth of the same year. Almost two months exactly after that phone call.

  Rubbing my chest, I began trying to sort through this information in my head. It was pointless, because I had no idea what his intentions were, and the voice in my head was trying to rationalize everything at once.

  As if reading my mind, Mason began to explain.

  “She owes me a substantial amount of money, and you’re her pretty little lump sum. Your father ensured you would be well provided for. Why do you think she had her claws in you so deep?”
<
br />   “Wait.” Rubbing my forehead, I struggled to make sense of the situation, “Are you trying to tell me that this was planned? And what lump sum? I don’t have any money.”

  “She knows I have you, if that’s what you’re asking. That little trip to meet your extended family was bullshit. She doesn’t have any family. I’m guessing she was going to get rid of you and collect the profit.”

  Looking up at him, I couldn’t understand why he was so callous about this.

  “You don’t even care.” My voice cracked on the last word.

  “You’re right; I don’t care, and neither should you. That woman treated you like dog shit not even worth wiping from the bottom of her fake designer shoe.”

  His words cut deep, but only because they were true. No one wants to admit that their mother hates them for reasons unknown to them. I suppose I always knew it. The girls on television and in town had completely different relationships from the kind my mother and I had.

  My father, the tutors, and my nanny always treated me better than she did.

  “Is she coming here? Why did she need to see you? What is it you aren’t telling me, Mason?” I questioned.

  “We can discuss this another time. I didn’t have you dress up so we could sit around and talk about the past. I just wanted to give you some clarity on what’s going on. I know that mind of yours can get ahead of itself.

  “You don’t have to worry about your mother. I won’t let her hurt you anymore.”

  He reached for my hand and pulled me up from the chair, closing the discussion without giving me any answers.

  Chapter Nineteen

  When we entered the dining room, a wisp of a girl disappeared through the other doorway. If I had blinked a second slower, I would have missed her.

  “Who is she?” I asked, peeking over my shoulder at Mason.

  “Kendra. She’s been cooking for me for years. Don’t worry about her; she’s harmless.” He pulled a chair out for me, and I sat down.

  “What do you mean, she’s harmless?” I mumbled absent-mindedly, partially lost in my head.