by Ally Vance
“I can’t sleep.”
“Should try,” I tell her.
I can feel the weight of her eyes on me, searching in the dark for answers to the enigma she sees me as. She’s wrong. I’m a simple man with simple needs. My needs are just dark, depraved, too disgusting to discuss with someone as pure as Amalia, with anyone. Even my brothers who have their own demons would not understand my lust for blood, my need to cause harm. My nature goes against everything society stands for. I know I’m broken. I gave up a long time ago trying to fix myself. There’s no remedy for what’s wrong with me.
“Do you think he’ll come back tonight?”
“Don’t know.”
It depends if the break-in was random or if she was targeted. I suspect she disturbed an opportunist, which means I have no reason to be in her flat. He won’t try the same place twice, if he’s smart, so she’ll probably be fine without me here, but even the hint of danger makes my hands get clammy and my chest ache like I’ve never experienced. The thought of anything happening to her makes me homicidal. I don’t know how this woman became important to me, but she’s everything I need, but everything I don’t deserve.
She pulls something off the back of the sofa and to my fucking surprise covers me with a blanket. The yarn is heavy, but instantly warms me. I’ve never had a woman take care of me like this. I don’t know what the fuck to do with the emotions she’s making me feel. I don’t know what the fuck to do with her.
She snuggles down.
“You should go to bed,” I order, my voice sounding thicker than usual.
“Not while you’re still awake.”
The stubbornness in her tone has my mouth lifting at the corners into something I didn’t know I was capable of—a fucking smile.
What the hell is she doing to me?
I clear my throat, trying to regain control of this situation, but she has me dripping in confusion. I don’t know which way is up and which is down. She turns me inside out, makes me question things I’ve never questioned before. I don’t know how to deal with what she’s doing to me.
“Amalia…”
“You don’t get to boss me around, Fury.” Her voice is serious, but there is a hint of humour in her words too.
This woman does things to me I can’t explain, things I don’t want to explain. She makes the claws digging into my heart loosen enough to let that little muscle beat freely on its own.
“Ain’t bossing you. Just don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I won’t.”
“Don’t know that.”
I hear her little contented sigh. What the hell she has to be content about, I don’t know. This situation is fucked up. She’s sitting with a psychopath, a devil dressed in leather and denim while waiting for a crazy lunatic to try to break into her flat again.
As much as I try to deny it, I like her sitting next to me. I imagine my hand slipping onto her thigh, feeling the warmth of her skin under my hand, but I don’t move. I can’t. It wouldn’t be right to touch her, to poison her with my darkness.
We sit in silence, but it’s not uncomfortable, though it probably should be.
“Fury?”
“Yeah?”
“You don’t like being touched, do you?”
“No,” I admit, a hint of shame flooding my veins. I’ve never liked it, since I was a little boy and the men my mother brought around would try to caress me in ways no little kid should ever be touched. It made my skin crawl and to this day I can’t stomach it, but Amalia is the first person I’ve thought it might not feel so bad to have touch me. I hate that I’m like this. It makes me feel like what Sin says I am—a freak.
“Have you always been this way?”
“Don’t try to psychoanalyse me.” My reply is gruff and I’m glad it’s dark, so she can’t see the shame crawling over my skin.
“That’s not what I’m trying to do.” She pauses. “Can I touch you?”
I swallow hard, my stomach filling with something I’ve never felt before—expectation. I want her mouth on mine so badly it hurts.
“Why?”
“Does why matter?”
To me, yeah, it does. I need to know if her motives are sincere or if she’s poking the bear to see if it’ll come out roaring. I don’t want to unleash anything dark on her. Ever. The urge to protect her is strong.
“Can I?” she presses.
I can’t deny her anything. As much as I want to say no, I also want to see what it will feel like to have her hands on me. Will it be as I imagined? She’s touched me twice before this and each time I felt the familiar sting on my skin, but this is different. This isn’t taking me by surprise, this is being done with permission. I swallow my fear down and steel myself.
“Okay.” My voice sounds like it’s shredded raw and I hate how weak I sound. I’m not that kind of man, but Amalia shreds what’s left of my control.
I brace as I see her hand come towards me, holding my breath until I feel light-headed. Her eyes slide to mine before she slips her hand onto my chest, over my heart. I freeze, feeling her heat blazing onto my skin, but I’m not crawling in the usual filth I feel when someone touches me. It feels good, right, nice.
It’s a crossroads, one I didn’t realise I was standing at until this moment. When she leans in, I brace, not sure what to expect, but her mouth presses against my cheek. I expect my body to tense, but it doesn’t. I feel nothing but the thrill that her lips are on my skin.
It’s over too fast and when she pulls back, I feel the loss of her touch like a hit of grief. I let out a shaky breath and run my fingers over my head. My skin tingles with electricity. She touched me, and for the first time it didn’t burn or hurt. I felt… normal.
The urge to take her grows inside me like a poison spreading through my veins. I shouldn’t, but my body moves before I can stop it. I flip her so she’s under me along the length of the sofa. She feels warm, soft beneath me. I should be freaking out, but I feel strangely calm.
I can’t see her eyes fully in the darkness, but she doesn’t push me off or tell me to get off her, so I dip my head and press my mouth to hers. She moans against my lips and that makes my cock go solid behind my zip. I can hear nothing but the sounds of our breaths as I trace along the seam of her mouth and gain access to one of her greatest treasures—her tongue. Slowly, I caress its length, sucking it into my mouth and when she pants against me, I nearly come in my jeans. She’s the first woman I’ve kissed in so long, I’m not sure I can remember how to do it, but it’s like muscle memory kicks in and I’m moving without thought.
She doesn’t touch me, I notice, which I’m grateful as fuck for. I don’t think I can keep doing this with her hands on me, but she lets me take control. My brain is screaming at me to stop, but my body is reacting on instinct, taking what it wants, what it needs.
I get a hand between us and slide it down the waistband, finding the slick warmth between her legs. Her back arches, pushing her tits towards my face. When I slip two fingers inside her, Amalia cries out and I feel triumph like I’ve never experienced roar through me. I push in and out of her, listening to her mewls of pleasure and adjusting my angle depending on the sounds she’s making.
My angel, my beautiful angel.
I’ve never cared about making someone happy. It never entered my head as something I’m supposed to do, to care about, but with her I want to do better. She makes me want to be a better man.
Amalia comes, yelling my name and I can’t stop from grinning. It feels fucking amazing to hear it.
She reaches for my jeans and my heart twitches. I stop her, my hand snagging her wrist.
“Not yet.”
She doesn’t push and I’m grateful as fuck she doesn’t. I lift off her and sit next to her, my balls hating me, but I can’t. I’m not ready to take that step with her, as much as I want to.
“Thank you,” she says.
This woman seems to make a habit of thanking me when I least expect it.
�
�For what?”
“Trusting me. I know that took a lot.”
She has no idea how much that took, but the more time I spend with her, the more I’m realising I want her, and not just because I’m infatuated with her, but because I need her like I need my next breath. She’s becoming an integral part of my life, one I’m not sure I can live without.
My heart stops before it remembers to beat again.
“Yeah,” I mutter.
“Small steps,” she murmurs.
I can’t help but think nothing about this has been small steps, but I’m okay with what’s happened.
“You’re not a bad man, Fury.”
She’s wrong. I’m the worst man, but I don’t want to break the bubble we’re in, so I keep my silence.
After a while, I hear her breaths even out and realise she’s asleep. She suddenly moves, leaning her side against my shoulder. She’s touching me, but the world isn’t imploding. Rage isn’t filling me, disgust isn’t crawling over every inch of my skin. I feel something else, something I can’t quite put my finger on.
Stiffly, I shift so her head is at a better angle and I let my breath rip out of me.
For the first time in a long time, I feel complete.
Chapter Seven
Fury
A noise catches my attention, dragging me out of my thoughts of Amalia. I don’t move an inch, barely breathing as my eyes seek out the window. There’s a darkened figure standing on the other side of the glass.
I keep perfectly still as I watch this cunt jimmy the frame. The cold air hits me immediately, but I still don’t move. Instead, I watch as he climbs through the open window and as soon as his feet touch the carpet, I’m up.
Got you, fucker.
I wish Amalia was safe in her room, but I can’t think about that right now. I have to protect her. I don’t think, my reactions born from instinct. I grab him around the throat and slam him against the wall. He lets out an ‘oof’, which wakes the beast inside me for a split second. I pull my knife from my belt and slam it into his gut over and over. Motherfucker tried to harm my angel. He’s going to die for that.
I don’t stop stabbing. Blood spatters over me, going everywhere.
“Fury! Stop!”
The room floods with light and at the sound of her voice the bloodlust fades from my eyes, the ringing stops in my ears and all I can hear is her. Then her hands are on me, trying to pull me away, trying to save my soul. Does she not realise this is who I am? That the darkness that lives in me can’t be tamed—that I can’t be tamed.
Her fingers burn a path where they latch around my bicep. This woman has a habit of touching me, and while I should hate it, usually would hate it, I don’t know that I do, and that scares the shit out of me. I’ve never let anyone touch me. I can’t stand the dirt it brings, having hands on me, but Amalia brings something else, something different. She brings light. Hope. Desire.
Even so, my words tear out of my throat as I demand, “Move back.” She releases me, and I feel the loss of her touch score through my soul, but I don’t want her too close to this fucker or to my demons, which are too close to the surface to control.
My eyes linger for a moment on her sleep shorts and camisole top that leaves far too much exposed. She sat next to me like that all night? Jesus, fuck. My mouth dries and I want to taste her more than I’ve wanted anything in my life before, but I can’t. She’s not mine, and she’ll never be mine.
I give her burglar my full attention. He’s wearing a black knit beanie, his clothes all black too. He has a small nose, a narrow jaw and eyes that look entirely too small for his face. I don’t recognise the cunt, and even if I could, I can’t see his features through the mess of swelling and blood. He’s also not moving.
Amalia pushes past me and ducks in front of him, two fingers going to his neck. I watch her throat work and I know what she’s going to say before she does. My chest heaves as I watch Amalia’s eyes widen, fear landing in them.
“He’s dead,” she whispers the words like they burn her tongue.
I stare at her, my heart racing, knowing this thing that was building between us is done. There’s nothing I can do to save it. She’s seen the monster come out in me twice now, and she’s experienced my darkness. There’s nothing more to say.
“You killed him.” Her voice wobbles.
I try to control my breathing, feeling the situation spin out of control.
“This is who I am,” I tell her. “Ain’t changing. Can’t.”
“This isn’t all you are. You’re more than this. I’ve seen a glimpse of the man you are. You didn’t need to stay, to protect me, but you did.”
“Ain’t someone that needs to be saved either.”
I leave those words dangling between us like a lead shroud. There’s nothing else to really say.
“Fury…”
“Need to stay away from me.” The words are a pick axe to the chest. “Ain’t good for you.”
“But—”
“No buts. I’ve got dark in me that you can’t fix. You can’t mould me into what you want me to be.”
“That’s not what I’m trying to do.”
“Met you ‘cause I blew a man’s brains out. Killing is a part of me, Amalia.”
Her face pales. “I don’t want to change you, but I want you to see you’re more than you think you are. You’re not irredeemable. You’ve got a good heart.”
“Ain’t nothing beating in my chest, but darkness. Still think I’m a good man?”
To keep her safe, I need to stay away from her. It’s the only way. I step back from her and with a lingering look, I put distance between us.
I pull out my phone and dial Titch. He picks up on the third ring.
“Need a clean-up, brother,” I tell him.
“Where?”
I rattle off Amalia’s address. “Be there soon.”
He hangs up and I pocket my phone. “You should wait in the bedroom,” I tell her, feeling pain lance through my chest. This is not how I expected this evening to end. I thought we’d made a breakthrough, but this has the power to derail the train.
I don’t meet her eyes as I stare down at the body. She has me twisted up and I don’t know how to deal with this shit. I haven’t let a woman touch me like that in a long time. I’m not sure why I let her.
“Fury—”
“The bedroom.” My voice cracks out the command and I wish I could take it back immediately when her face drops.
Fuck, this woman kills me.
Her mouth pulls into a line, but she turns and storms into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her, and I breathe easier for a moment.
Titch turns up a few minutes later with Kyle, the prospect. He doesn’t question what happened, or whose house this is. He just helps me remove the body while Kyle cleans up the blood stains off the carpet and walls.
I don’t want to do it, but I know I have to leave. She doesn’t deserve to be in the same airspace as a depraved bastard like me. The only way to keep her clean, unmarred, is to walk away. I glance at the bedroom door, and with my heart shredding into a hundred pieces, I walk out.
For the next few months, I avoid her. I don’t go to her flat, I don’t see her around town. I keep my mind an Amalia-free zone, but I grieve for her like I would a lost lover. I miss her with every breath I take, feel her absence keenly.
I manage eight months before I’m back outside her flat, watching, waiting. The small slither of hope she gave me that I could be normal for a moment is a heady feeling. She’s my drug, and I can’t get enough of her. She’s my salvation, but she’ll also be my ruin because I can never walk away from her.
This isn’t love, it’s obsession, and I am completely infatuated.
THE END… for now
Fury and Amalia’s story will continue in Fury, coming soon…
About Jessica:
Jessica Ames lives in a small market town in the Midlands, England. She lives with her dog and when she’s not wri
ting, she’s playing with crochet hooks.
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Devious Obsession
Erin Trejo
Edited by: Elfwerks Editing
Chapter One
Devious
I watch her. No, I stalk her. Every goddamn move she makes, I already know as she makes them. I shouldn’t even be looking at her considering she’s a fucking club princess of a rival MC, but I can’t seem to pull my eyes off her.
I didn’t know who she was at first. She was just a girl who liked sitting outside on the rooftop across the street from my apartment. Something about the way her long dark hair blew in the night breeze kept me coming back for more. It started with one night. Then I came back the next for more. And now I’m obsessed.
“Are you even listenin’ to me, motherfucker?” King, my VP, asks through the phone.
“Fuck you, King. I told you I was busy, and you called my ass anyway. What the fuck do you even want?”
“I wanna know what the plan is for the weekend. Are we hittin’ that warehouse or not?”
But I’m not really listening to him. Because someone else is occupying my attention. There she is. Perfectly timed. It’s eleven p.m. and she is now sitting on the edge of the roof looking up at the sky. I wonder how daddy would feel if he knew I was watching his baby girl. I wonder how he’d feel if he knew every time I saw her, my cock got hard.
