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Yes.
It’s safe to say he isn’t happy to see me.
At this moment, though, when my body experiences the proximity of a man who finally awakens its hidden desires, I understand one thing.
Coming here was a mistake.
A mistake that might cost me my sanity.
But once again.
What choice do I have?
Octavius
If the gods wanted to create a human representation of quiet beauty destined to tempt the men around her with her softness and gentleness, promising reprieve from the agonizing pain and solace in the nightmares that are our lives, only to surprise you with her strength, it would be her.
A raspy breath escapes her when I drill my gaze into her, her shoulder-length curly hair swaying lightly under the AC and bringing attention to its unique brown-and-red color that glistens under the sunlight. My hand flexes. I barely contain the urge to wrap her curls around my fist and inhale her rose-mixed-with-lavender scent, wanting to feel its silky texture.
The color of sunrise, it speaks to the dark part of me that craves light and hope despite facing nothing but misery all this time.
Her flawless and smooth tan skin calls my name with every breath she takes, my insides craving to take my knife and slowly drag the tip of it over her flesh, watching the goose bumps pop all over her while fear fills her eyes.
A blank canvas that I wish to taint with my marks of ownership so whoever is stupid enough to look at her would know who she belongs to.
Because my imprints would be all over her, visible stamps indicating her complete surrender to the man everyone calls a barbarian.
Mine and no one else’s.
Her innocent, sensual aura attracts men like moths to a flame, charming them into believing they can conquer the stubborn creature whose striking gray eyes remind me of molten steel, and they flare in challenge when she raises her chin and meets my stare head-on.
Eyes that sparkle whenever she speaks passionately about something, eyes that cannot hide her emotions and leave no doubt in her honesty that soothes the part of me that has faced endless lies.
Gray has always been my favorite color.
Isla could never be called gorgeous in the classical sense of the word despite her symmetrical features and high cheekbones leading to her full lips that I crave to bite and suck on, listening to her whimpers and moans.
That’s what attracts me the most to her, and possessiveness overshadows common sense, thinking how I’m the one to see the true beauty. If I listen to my desires, I can keep her all to myself.
My obsession would know no bounds, for she has been a constant in my mind since the minute I saw her, and by the time men realize what they’ve lost, it would be too late.
She’d be mine, attached to me in such ways most people would find me insane, and I’d kill anyone who so much as looked at her with lust, let alone think he could have her.
Men who don’t appreciate her don’t deserve her anyway, so why should I show them any mercy?
The oversized sweater and jeans along with scuffed leather shoes do little justice to her petite figure, her generous curves covered beneath the cheap fabrics and showcasing our difference in all its glory as she has no idea what existing in my glittering and luxurious world entails.
She deserves to wear silks and cashmere as diamonds grace her neck and ears. Unfamiliar sensations wash over me, imagining holding her in my arms and parading her blinding beauty around them, protecting her from their scrutiny, but also…
Claiming her over and over again. I feel my body growing hard just imagining having her all to myself, watching her skin flush in need and desire matching the one consuming me.
The beast inside me snarls being denied this right. I force myself to put my hands inside my pant pockets while she swallows hard, bringing attention to her wildly beating pulse that I need to trace with my tongue as I drive into her, her moans echoing through the space and coating it with something wicked and maddening just like my reaction is to her.
My instincts scream at me to drag her to my cage and trap her there for eternity, the voices so loud I barely resist the tempting urges pushing me in her direction with each passing second while she gasps for breath, feeling the sizzling energy between us.
Like a gazelle noticing a predator in the distance, ready to fight and run as far away as possible from her unfortunate fate.
A fate that became inevitable the minute our destinies entwined, and that connection serves akin to cold water pouring from above me, reining in my cravings, and I will all my control to help me do what’s necessary.
