Make Me Sin (Dark Gods #1)

Chapter 9

-Two days before-

I could write a book about all the things that are wrong with me. And I think it would be most appropriate to begin with my newest obsession—Serena. The woman who holds what I can loosely describe as the last splinter of my soul.

It's like every time I close my eyes, her name engraves itself deeper into a place within me that seems impossible to reach and I can't convince myself to keep her away from breaking that boundary. I'm not even sure I want to.

On the day I went to see her in Elko, I couldn't even convince myself to return home to Vegas. I only made it to the highway before my foot refused to push the gas pedal and drive on. It was the first time I had let something interfere with my business at this level, but if I had returned to Vegas I wouldn't have been able to attend a single fucking meeting—at least not with a clear head.

Turning the car around, I stopped at the first motel I found outside of town and made the desk clerk’s office my own for a couple of hours. There's nothing money can't buy, and I spare no expense when it comes to getting what I want.

The few video calls I couldn’t postpone and the papers I needed to sign helped the hours pass more easily. I know Serena is still home. I have one of my guys tracking the location of her phone at all times, including her texts and calls. She's going out with one of her friends at a local coffee shop. My gut twists at how badly I want to follow her there, but there's no real way of making that happen. Googling the location I realized it would be impossible to blend in—not there, not even somewhere across the street. There’s only a flower garden there, and I don’t exactly look like a fucking daisy.

I grind my teeth knowing that I would only get to see her when she returns home, but fate smiles at me, as usual. Just before nightfall, her phone's GPS is moving to another location—a bar. Now that's a much more suitable place for me to blend into the crowd.

It takes me less than twenty minutes to get there. Nothing interesting is happening in that place anyway. It's a shit hole compared to Vegas, but around here it seems to be the nicest bar for miles.

It doesn't even matter. All I want is to see her again. A screw must be really, really loose inside my brain, but I can't help myself from counting the seconds until she’s mine.

Sure, I could fix that in just a few minutes. Sinners or innocent, I can bend any woman of my choosing to my will. I don't even need to flex a muscle or have any kind of special power to do so. It’s just family heritage. The instant I decide I want Serena, she will be mine. Just not yet. I'm a sick bastard who likes the chase, and I'm not gonna rush the thrill of the game just so that my cock finds satisfaction sooner. We're facing eternity. I want to enjoy the adventure of her becoming mine, along with the pain and the thrill born in the process. Other women in my past were objects used for release and entertainment, while Serena has the potential to be the breath of air I need to keep me here on this earth.

I've always been extreme in my decisions. That's only because I know myself so well that I can instantly determine how that one-moment choice would fit into my life. She is a madman's paradise, and I am exactly that kind of madman. I’m fucking mesmerized by her. I could look at her for hours, just watching the way her head moves from side to side letting her long hair swing over her shoulders.

Serena is beautiful and she knows it, but she doesn't use it in her favor as other women do. Her gestures aren't meant to satisfy an audience. On the contrary, they are as natural as they could be, without the purpose of catching the men's attention. It comes either way. Involuntarily all eyes seem to be set on her. Ugly or charming, all straight men at the bar watch her, while she doesn’t pay attention to any of them—not even me. The chances of that happening are slim anyway. I’ve found my place in the secluded corner, from where I can watch her without being noticed.

I don't want her attention for now . At least not her direct attention.

Despite that, I do want her to know I’m here—watching, waiting, observing my most valuable prey. That's exactly why I chose to pay her tab. She needs to know she's not alone anymore. She's got an angel watching over her. Too bad that angel is the direct descendant of the devil.

I can see her becoming agitated, realizing someone picked up her tab. Along with a $100 bill, I gave specific instructions to the barman to forget all about me. That gets me his silence and her wrath. As for my wrath, I can barely control myself when I see her getting behind the wheel after she’s just had a few cocktails. This woman has a death wish and I don't plan on losing her too soon—at least not until my appetite is satisfied.

The level of stress in my body rises so high that I'm one step away from cutting in front of her car, and dragging her the hell out of that piece of junk she’s driving. She's careful, I’ll give her that, but you can never be careful enough when it comes to alcohol. I’ve seen enough shit in my life by now to know that one stupid mistake can get you six feet under. And I still have some business with her at earth level.

Seeing her drive with the speed of a snail manages to calm me down, just not enough to stop me from following her home. I need to know that she's safe even if she's driving straight into Nick's arms. I’ll take him out of the picture soon enough. Maybe he’ll even do me a favor and disappear on his own. While I was at the bar, my men already gave me a report on what he was up to, and somehow it fit straight into my plans.

I don't stick around to see what happens after she gets home. I'm too afraid of my own reactions, and blowing up the building would be a bad decision for my agenda. I have a feeling he’s not getting into her panties tonight. Call it a hunch, but she doesn't seem the kind to forgive and forget that easily. I am counting on that when it comes to Nick.

I managed to drive back to Vegas even though I was on the verge of turning the car around several times. It's like my mind is fixated on her, and no matter what I do, I can't accept the thought of leaving her behind.

It's morning by the time I get back to my hotel. I own several businesses in Vegas but this is my favorite playground. It's not about the absurd luxury the place provides for the thickest wallets. It's about control. The town is like a country of its own, at least when it comes to its wealth and trained manpower. And I fully intend to become its king. But influence also comes with disadvantages. Wealth comes at a price. There's always someone to meet or some papers to sign. These are the things that keep everything rolling. This and the power of my word.

I don't go back to sleep; I can spend days without closing an eye, especially if something doesn't give me peace. And right now it feels like a fucking storm is brewing in my veins. I need to feel Serena next to me and I always get what I want.

The second I step into the hotel’s lobby, one of my men comes in to let me know I have a meeting with Nick and his partner the next morning.

That's fucking music to my ears. My mood instantly picks up, and I am ready to make all necessary arrangements for Serena’s accommodation. She's gonna be treated like a princess. All she needs to do is learn how to accept this title.

It calls for a celebration so I make my way to one of the hotel bars for a few glasses. I often like the solitude of my penthouse—not today though. Today I feel alive .

The foundation of something new is being raised, and I’ll work on it until it turns into a fucking castle.

I don't talk to people much. I am the leader, not their friend. Indulging in useless conversations usually gets them to cross this line. And that always gets them killed.

I come to the bar to observe things—people, behaviors, life in general.

When Father shared our gifts, I received the power of knowing people’s deepest desires. And one thing I have learned throughout the years is that it’s not love that people yearn for. It's wealth and money. They're foolish enough to believe that love is complementary to these things while I’ve lived through centuries to know better. The love for a man's pocket has nothing to do with the one for his soul. Sometimes, this kind of love for money and other physical possessions drags something so ugly to the surface that it has the potential to destroy the world.

The number of women who loved me over time could form a phone number on its own. I’ve never experienced this feeling in return. I’m not so convinced I'm experiencing it now, but at least I feel something, and it sure beats the hollowness that had claimed my soul for centuries.

And as if to reinforce my statement, a high-class diva in her late 20s approaches me. “What makes a man drink alone in the middle of the day?” she asks, casting a smile that in different circumstances I could find quite seductive. Not today though.

I could have her wrapped around my fingers with just two words, but there's something so screwed up within me that the thought of another woman touching me, except Serena, comes with slight disgust.

That calls for another glass of whiskey and an answer that I know will sting. “Celebrating. My girlfriend is coming into town.” I could laugh at my own words. Serena isn’t my girlfriend. I'm not sure if she will ever have that status. I'm just trying to keep the woman's pride intact and save her from my rejection.

Although I’m not sure what pride, It's so fucking easy to reach inside her mind and hear her strongest desire. She wants my dick inside of her. No plans for the future, overflowing bank accounts, or romantic dates. It's that simple, low-key turns me on. Still, not enough to consider her even for a second.

I do want to be buried deep within someone. Just not her.

“Maybe I can keep you company until she gets here.” The woman smiles again while strolling her finger on top of her glass.

I have nothing against a woman hitting on a man, but everything when it comes to someone who doesn't get the hint. I don't like it when people are thick in the head or overly insistent. Plus I find it degrading when a woman pleads with a man—even indirectly—that is unless I want her to beg.

“I have enough company as it is,” I reply, seeing one of my lawyers heading my way.

More documents to sign. Fucking great!

My lawyer prevents the woman from the upcoming embarrassment, but almost pushes her aside as he shoves some papers in front of me. I’m starting to suspect this guy is closer to the devil than I am. He needs to be to solve all the shit I give him, like the latest property transfer without the total agreement of the owner, especially since the owner was already laying six feet under.

Something has to happen to all the wealth of the people I dispose of. Not a single one of them is a decent human being. I keep the balance between good and evil and I also get to keep the goods. Seems like a fair trade to me, and for my bank account.

As soon as my lawyer leaves, so do I.

I may be able to postpone rest longer than other people, but I prefer staying awake to watch over Serena. And since she's not in town yet, I need to visit my bed for a few hours. I don't stay long there either. I only manage to doze on and off. She's so fucking close that I can feel her, my heart pulses much faster than usual and there's a heavy need that seems to drain into my groin, torturing my restless cock.

I don't usually deprive myself of sex for too long. I'm stressed out as it is with all the shit going on in my life. Why wouldn't I give myself a decent release when my body asks? Except now I want to deprive myself of it. I want the torment to take control of me, making the wait that much more intense.

It's almost 4 a.m. and I decide I can't stay in bed any longer. There's no chance of falling back asleep and every chance my temper will flare up if I remain between the sheets.

I hit the gym for a couple of hours. My family genes don't require it, but I like to be trained at all times. I can never know when I'll meet my next opponent. I have to stay above whoever that would be, especially since my body's construction is pretty much human. I don’t age, but I do bleed.

I asked one of my assistants to prepare my board room for when Serena and Nick get here. Despite my personal cravings, I don't want any kind of flaws in our plan. My man will provide them with all the information they need while my money will give them the necessary tools to succeed.

I anxiously gaze at my watch. I almost laughed at myself because I couldn't really remember the last time I was this anxious about something. It's been a while, that's for sure.

It's 10 a.m. They should've arrived. Yet, I leave them waiting for a few more minutes. It wouldn't look good if a man like myself showed up on time. It would make me look desperate, and I'm very far away from that.

My assistant texts me that they have arrived. It's time for a proper introduction.

My phone rings just when I'm a floor away from the boardroom. It's one of my men with partial information about another artifact I'm interested in—just when I thought that nothing else could piss me off.

Somehow I manage to make this call work in my favor, but just as I am about to hang up I notice someone down the hallway. I could recognize that ass anywhere. It's Serena.

By the looks of it, she's trying to fix herself in a mirror. Why fix perfection? I know it's a womanly thing. What I don't know is who she's trying to impress, Nick or me.

I take a few steps in her direction but stop at a fair distance, keeping my phone glued to my ear, even though I no longer have any idea what the man on the other end of the line is saying.

Shit, I'm so high on this new feeling that nothing in the world could make me lose this addiction. Not sure that I would want to either.

I pretend to ignore her. This was never a difficult task when it came to other women, but with her, it's fucking torture. I'm not sure if I can stop myself from crashing her against the wall and making her renounce all her gods if she would approach me at this moment. The tight black skirt she's wearing along with the cut-out-back blouse make her even more feminine than before. And that much more fuckable.

It's gonna be a long and interesting meeting.

I don’t put down my phone, giving her a chance to study me for a change. I know she's watching every move I make, assessing me from head to toe. I want her to watch. I want her to reach the same level of madness that I'm in. She will belong to me the same way I feel I'm going to belong to her.

This is much more than one of my mood swings. I've never been so unfocused on the world around me before. That bothers me at a certain level. I'm here on a mission and there is not an option where I can fail. Failure would mean the end, including Serena’s.

I allow her to examine me for a few more seconds but I'm not a fucking exhibit at the museum. I want her to know I know she's watching me. I turn to look at her, to let her know that she's been caught, but her gaze isn’t pointing to my face. She's studying every inch of my body and I probably just missed the part where her eyes scanned my crotch. That would’ve been interesting to watch.

I can tell she likes what she sees. Modesty was never my thing. I don't have a single thing to be modest about. I know my qualities, and I know my flaws. The perfect creation of the devil.

Her eyes finally raise high enough to take notice of my own. I still pretend to be focusing on the phone conversation, but in reality, I can only stare at her plump lips and imagine how my tongue would make room between them.

I might not be able to play this for as long as I want. The bastard in my pants is getting more and more impatient, and I think this time his will could overcome the will of my mind.

She knows I'm also watching her. Prey always feels when it's being cornered, and just like an innocent little deer she turns on her feet and signals the game to begin.

All predatory instincts kick in. I would like nothing more than to chase her down and play with her as a lion does with his prey.

It's not time yet.

I try to convince myself to conceal my real intentions as much as I can, but seeing her so fragile, so meant to please my every need makes me want to shut down the whole hotel and make a real game of hunter and prey out of this.

There's a vicious pulse in my veins that wants her scared. I want to feast on her fear and turn her road to hell into my road to pleasure.

I leave her a few moments to take in the adrenaline that I know makes her feel more alive than ever. Only then do I walk through the conference room door.

I pretend not to give her any importance. At this moment, it seems like the hardest thing I've done all day. She's standing next to Nick while the bastard is sipping on my finest whiskey.

I could kill him for way less than that, but in the light of the latest information I have on him, for now, he’ll serve me much better alive.

I don't do the talking today. I’ve already told my assistant this would be his job. Usually, I personally see to this kind of mission, but I want to have time to observe other things. As for this job, they already have everything they need to know in the files my man gave to them. I'm much more preoccupied with obsessing over the small pulse spot above Serena’s collarbone. Her heart must be racing by now. Although she makes considerable effort to hide it.

I can see she's trying to focus on the information my man is sharing. But I can also see she's not succeeding. She knows she's being studied. She just probably doesn't know my reasons. I recognize her type: beautiful but shy when it comes down to playing a real game. Sure she knows she can seduce any regular guy walking down the street. But she also knows I'm no regular guy.

By the end of the meeting, she barely controls herself from storming out of the room. My gaze doesn't cut her any slack. I want her to feel it burning through her the way it will do every single minute for the rest of her life.

My mind has already fucked her in every corner of the boardroom by now and it's getting almost impossible to stop my body from doing the same. The time will come, her moans will be heard in every room of this fucking hotel.

Nick suddenly interrupts my daydream, trying desperately to sound interesting. He's nothing except a piece of human trash, and my patience has very thin limits. I don't let the bastard speak so I wouldn't do something foolish that would force me to finish his miserable life before I get my artifact.

I ask Serena to be the one doing the talking. She’s the one of interest, after all, in every sense of the word.

Her lips are trembling as she explains that she will do her best to pull things through. I can barely hold myself back from going over to her and biting that trembling lip. Still, I hold my ground, trying to focus on the confidence she’s showing, not on the fear she's trying to hide.

I bite back a groan that's been ready for minutes to escape my throat. I find it impossible to be here any longer without doing something stupid that would interfere with all my future plans. Ending the meeting, I give them a final warning. “Fuck this up and you're dead. Both of you.” This is something I don't joke around with. Failure and betrayal weigh heavily on my scale of values. And no one is allowed to cross either of those, not even Serena.

Once I leave, my man will invite them to stay as guests at my hotel. I want to keep an eye on her, a very close eye. That's the main reason I asked him to assign them to a very special accommodation. It's a suite I usually reserve for my business partners. I like to know who I'm dealing with, and gain an upper hand. Therefore, a couple of years ago, I installed several cameras throughout the rooms and double mirrors in both bedrooms.

Politicians, businessmen, and celebrities come to Vegas to have fun, taking the fun part to the extreme. I thought my kinks were pretty messed up, but I am like a fucking angel compared to what I have seen going on in those bedrooms. In fact, so bad that I made them buy new mattresses. I won't have Serena sleeping in a puddle of lube and dried-out sperm.

One of my employees shows them to their room. From what I can see on the security cameras, Serena doesn't stay there for long. She’s so eager to leave the place that I almost feel offended, but I have a feeling it’s not the accommodation she doesn’t like. It’s her soon-to-be ex-boyfriend.

In less than half an hour since my man had taken her bags inside the suite, she’s already heading toward one of the hotel's cafes. I didn't see that coming, but I'll make the best of it. I've got a meeting across town anyway, and I just decided it's her turn to watch me.

I ask the valet to bring my car somewhere in front of the cafe Serena is in. There's an exit straight through the café terrace. I’m planning to make use of that. I'm not someone you can easily ignore, and I know Serena won't make an exception.

I let her internally drool as I stop in front of the car for a few more moments so I can sign some papers for the hotel. There are always some fucking papers to be signed. Sometimes I swear the apocalypse won't be fire or plague. Bureaucracy will swallow us all.

By the time I return to the hotel, Serena has gone back to her suite. I can look at her security cameras through my phone. She’s having a fight with Nick again, but I can't hear what they’re saying since I’m caught up with business. I will check on the footage later. Main thing is that he's gone. I can’t stand him being around her. That's one of the reasons why I accommodated them in this particular apartment. That, and my obsession with her.

I don't even waste a moment on the army of staff that's waiting for me with more problems to be dealt with. My last hotel manager ended up in the Grand Canyon just a week ago for trying to overcharge some rooms and take the numbers to his bank account. I keep telling myself I'll find a new one but I didn't even have time for that interview. My assistants try to take on his jobs, but sometimes it proves to be more than they can handle.

Right now, I don't give a fuck. I just want to see Serena up close. The camera footage was just a drop of kerosene into an empty jet tank. I need more, a whole lot more.

Hitting the 13th floor, I enter the janitor’s room, which has direct access to both of the mirrors in her suite’s bedrooms. No one uses the service room; only I have the key. It's not even a room, more like a circular hallway surrounding the apartment, giving a clear view of both bedrooms along with direct access to the living room—just in case of emergencies.

I saw earlier on camera where she took her bags, so I headed directly to that part of the apartment.

As if she's waiting for me there, Serena stands in front of the mirror. Fuck, I feel like she's looking straight at me, and that interferes with any clear judgment I might have. Still, I instantly notice she's upset. That must be Nick's doing. I'll soon put a stop to that, but for now, him being a jerk works in my favor.

She's wiping off her makeup as I look at her. The eye contour makes her blue eyes stand out even more. That reminds me of Egyptian women.But she's as beautiful without any kind of makeup. She has that inner glow that highlights every line of her face far better than any cosmetic product ever could.

I can tell she's agitated, her movements sharp and restless. She looks in the mirror like she is studying herself, lost in her reflection. I know she's not in a good place. That brings me joy at a twisted level. I need her to be broken so I can claim every piece of her as my own.

After just a few seconds, she heads into the bathroom. I don't want to turn the bathroom camera on. It doesn't have anything to do with respecting her privacy; it’s about conserving my willpower so I won't storm into her suite claiming my property. There’s something else too—I want to save the sight of her naked body for when the time is right, to unwrap her like my finest birthday gift.

I leave her alone in there, but for now, I can’t pull myself away from the other side of the mirror.

She must’ve been showering because she exited the bathroom dressed in the hotel white robe and then searched for a pair of panties and a nightgown to wear. She returns to the bathroom to get dressed, probably so she can leave the robe there. That eases things for me, though not enough to calm that nervous twitch in my pants.

Her next stop is the living room where I can see on the camera that she gets herself a glass of water. Water never saved anyone. The answer is whiskey—or any other poison of her choosing. But I prefer her sober for now, especially since I don't know when Nick will crawl back.

She doesn't stay in the living room for long, either. For some reason, she runs to the bedroom and throws herself into bed.

I don't know what scared her; maybe it was her own conscience.

The bed doesn't seem to work for her either, so she heads to the balcony, pulls the drapes aside, and throws open the double doors.

She's acting like a panther in a cage, when in reality she has no idea what being trapped really means.

Following the same erratic behavior, she slips back into bed and hides beneath the sheets. I expect her to fall asleep, but I quickly understand where her state of agitation is coming from. She's searching for something else besides sleep, and the sheet begins to move with an almost undetectable rhythm at first. She’s seeking the slightest hint of pleasure, and I'd like nothing more than to open the door and rip that sheet away from her so I can feast on every movement of her fingers. But for now, all I can do is watch from a distance. Soon enough, the time for us to play together will come.

Her eyes shut tight. Ecstasy is building between her thighs as I register each twitch of her lips.

I can't see much beyond her facial expressions, but I can't wait for the moment when I’ll be the one making her face contort with pleasure.

At this point, I'm so envious of her own hand touching herself that I'm ready to break through the mirror. I feel she's wasting time—time that could be spent with me. If only she knew what’s waiting for her.

One of her hands falls beneath the bedsheet taking hold of her breast. I notice her picking up the pace. Hell, I'm almost pushed to my last limit. A dangerous thought creeps into the back of my mind. It's just something I need to do so I won’t lose all patience. I need to feel her close to me tonight. I'll make that happen somehow, even if it means crossing some lines.

I'm still figuring out a plan when I see her hips arching into the bed and her body spasming with the first drops of ecstasy. She moans when she finds her release. The sound is much more than just seductive. It makes me so hard that my pants begin to bother me. But nothing can ever come close to the next sound that leaves her lips, “Seth.” My name fills the room. She's moaning it already, and that without me even touching her . I’ll be damned . Oh wait, I already am.

Things just went to a whole different level, and the game suddenly has a new set of rules. I want her, and I'm gonna have her against my body tonight, no matter the consequences.

I replay the camera footage on my phone, looping it like a madman, over a hundred times to hear her whisper my name over and over again. The feeling is hypnotic, almost like a siren's song meant to drive a man wild.

Shedding a drop of my sanity, I storm to my penthouse to search for something that could give me easier access to her bed for the night. My eyes never leave the live camera.

Serena stays between the sheets,trying to sleep. And I won't let that happen—not yet anyway, I want to make sure she’ll be far away in Dreamland when she closes her eyes for the night.

I return to the janitor's room but this time not to gaze in the mirror. I walk past the bedroom and go straight to the secret door that allows me access to the living room. For the unsuspecting eye, it looks like a section of plaster on the wall, covered with a beautiful gold hieroglyph painting. For me, it’s the fucking gateway to heaven.

My eyes are still on the cameras. Serena is still awake in the bedroom. That gives me time to go forward with my plan. I took a little sedative from my penthouse. I usually need it to calm some of my anger. Most of the time is not enough, but for her body weight, it should do the trick.

I place a few drops of the sedative in her glass of water. I'm not sure if she's going to drink it or not, but I know how to improve the chances of that happening.

As soon as I finish my job, I drag my feet across the floor so she could hear me. Then I disappear to where I had come from. She will know I was here. The same way she will know it's futile to fight me. I just hope she’ll be agitated enough to stick around the living room and hopefully touch her water.

Exactly as I planned, she goes to the living room to investigate. I'm long gone by then, but I can see her on the camera. She's nervous. She knows I was there.Her little kitty cat nose is sniffing the air, trying to catch my cologne that’s still floating around in the room. That gets her further away from the living room and into the hallway, away from where I want her to be.

Fuck it!

But just when I'm sure she'll go back to bed, she changes her plans for the evening and texts her sister to go out for drinks. I didn't know her sister was in town. That should be interesting. But now my focus is solely on Serena. She's becoming unpredictable. It only confirms I’ve gotten inside that pretty head of hers. And I'm gonna stay there for the long run.

I have her exactly where I want her. Confused. Desperate. Intrigued.

Her night out on the town doesn't last long. Both she and her sister down the cocktails like it's a drinking competition. There must be some serious shit troubling them. And I know when it comes to Serena, I am responsible for most of the disturbing thoughts that cloud her mind.

I go through some reports about who did what in my town, all while keeping an eye on my phone, watching the camera in the bar. I have men everywhere, carefully observing both rivals and supposed friends.Vegas seems welcoming to the untrained eye but, in fact, it's just a pit of snakes. It’s the only way I can keep things in control around here and stop the wicked forces from prevailing.

The second I see Serena moving, I do the same. She's heading back to the apartment while I am heading back to the room behind her mirror. I need to see how drunk she really is. My demons surface to play, and no decent thoughts come to my mind. I want her sleeping in my arms tonight, and she just made it happen.

She hasn’t made it to the bedroom yet, so I instantly set my phone to the living room camera just in time to catch her drinking from the water. Fuck, I wasn't expecting that. The drug combined with the alcohol will hit her system much faster and at a higher intensity. That works perfectly for me, I just hope we won't end up in the hospital emergency room tonight.

Keeping up with her erratic behavior, she heads toward the balcony. Another thing I don't see coming, but this time the danger exceeds any reasonable boundary. She's too wasted to be there alone. As if that isn't enough, her mood deteriorates by the second. Tears begin knotting under her chin as she goes from happiness to confusion, then instant sadness.

She's not crying over me, that's for sure. Her tears wear the name of that bastard she's been dating. The thought brings a sharp pain to my soul. I know one day I will replace Nick in her heart, but I can't let her waste a single tear on him.

I can see her feet are getting unsteady in the heels she's wearing. That combined with her fragile mental condition has lethal potential. She leaves me no choice but to step in and get her back to safety—even if that safety could mean that in the next five minutes, she would be wrapping her legs around my waist from beneath me.

She’s still crying when I reach the balcony. She doesn't hear a single thing as I come behind her, just inches away from her body. I could throw her over the balcony myself knowing she's wasting her tears over Nick. But I know there's something else too—she’s battling the chaos I stir in her mind, torn between seeing me as her stalker, and the man who makes her insides quiver with lust.

One shaky step nearly brings her over the ledge, but my arms won't let her go. They capture her from behind, letting her body crash against my chest.

I'm not prepared to explain myself, turns out I don't even need to. Her eyes are already closed when her head lands on my shoulder. She's struggling to open them again, but she doesn't have much success with that.

The right thing to do would be to lay her down in her bed, then walk away. But when have I ever done the right thing?

Sweet moans are reaching my ears just when I try to get her back on her feet. It feels like it’s a test, and I'm going to fail. I never thought she would be that fragile, but now that I have her in my arms, she feels like a feather about to be swept into a hurricane.

Being so close to her doesn't come without its own consequences. I feel my will might never be strong enough to let her go again. I need this kind of union in my life. I just never expected things to be so serious until now.

I laid her back down on her bed, trying to decide whether to stick around or not. I'm not in a good state of mind. I need her so much that it clouds my judgment. I want to do bad things to her. Things that would be forbidden even in hell. I want to drive her so mad that she’ll only respond to the sound of my name.

Too soon.

I groan, giving myself a final warning to leave, but I can't do that. Not because of my will, but because of the delicate hands that clench to the upper part of my arms. Serena isn't awake and isn't asleep either. She's in a disoriented state.

All logic tells me to go. There will be another time to satisfy my needs. Maybe I would have acted like a decent human being—chances were I wouldn't—but she never gives me that opportunity. “Don't leave.” Her lips rise so close to my ears that her words slip down my eardrums, directly into my bloodstream.

How can I be the good guy and resist such an ardent calling, especially since my cock is asking for control over my judgment?

I need just a taste of her.

That's what I fool myself into believing. But how could I ever settle for just a taste of paradise?

I want to know the flavor of her lips. I often wonder what I’d feel the first time I’d kiss her. Maybe the spell will break and I’d be free from the invisible chains she put on me. But I don't want to do it now. I want her to be fully awake when she gives me her first kiss. Some things I need to do by the book, while with others, I'm free to lose total control. I am a freak when it comes to my minor obsessions, but there are things that set me off so strongly that I forget all about my human nature.

I don't kiss her, but I do trail my tongue along her lips. I can't go on without knowing what she tastes like. It's vanilla, vanilla mixed with something so intoxicating it nearly steals my reasoning. It's not the alcohol I sense, it's her specific scent created to arouse down to the last cell in my body.

I should leave because I fear I can't stop, but her ragged breath keeps me there for a little longer, while the gasp she loses when my lips abandon her convinces me I need to remain there with her.

Not sure if she confuses me with Nick, or she’s just having one of her fantasies, but I feel her arching beneath me, stealing away the last drop of anything similar to restraint I have left. Her nipples are already hard beneath her dress. I try to slow down, but it's becoming close to impossible. She's on fire, and she's relying on me to ease her suffering. Not that I don't want her to suffer just a little. Pain builds character. Pain bonds people in unknown ways.

I never pretended to be even close to a decent human being—probably because I'm not even human, but I never felt so over the edge about someone before. Women come to me, never the other way around. Yet with her, I want to play a whole different game.

The dress she's wearing has out welcomed its stay on her body and my patience is approaching the end of the line. I need something, as little as it may be, I need something to keep me afloat until she will be mine.

I can't stop myself from pushing the material down to her feet and then on the floor next to us. I need to have a taste of her needy breasts and as soon as I make her nipple disappear between my lips, I feel her melt in my arms. My hands drive beneath her perky ass, drawing her painfully close to me. I want to fuse with her, and not just with my body.

The movie of the most attractive women I ever slept with comes to my mind. None of them could ever come close to her. It's not even just because of her beauty, it's a connection so deep that I never thought possible.

Her eyes are still too tired to open. She's struggling to stay awake but she's just somewhere between dreams and reality. I want her this way, at least for now. I don't want her realizing it’s me in bed with her yet. She’d freak out, and that would ruin everything.

I spend a few minutes letting my mouth roam her breast. I swear I’ll never get tired of this, but right now time isn't on my side. Serena could come to her senses at any moment, and I haven't even gotten to the best part yet.

My mouth travels across the silky flank of her body, taking its time so I can listen to each moan and feel every hitch of her breath. She's here but also so far away, clinging onto my shoulders as my mouth heads deeper between the sheets.

All I can think of is that tight pussy of hers, and how I'm going to make it throb until she won't even be able to breathe. That thought alone makes me bite her straight above the panty line. Nothing too intense, I don't want to wake her up.

Still, my rushed gesture makes her legs wrap around my torso while her hands search for strands of my hair to grasp onto. She needs me so badly that I feel she's going to start crying if I don't get inside her soon enough. I'm even beginning to doubt that I would be able to keep myself from doing that. My cock's become so anxious that I don't know how I'm going to stop it from having at least a feel of her.

My breath is picking up, and my lips go from temperate to savage. I'm trying to still my thirst with fire. And it's not fucking working!

I never had this before. I might be uncontrollable when it comes to my need for destruction, but never lost my temper between a woman's legs. And I've done all the shit I could ever think of by now.

My teeth sink into her inner thigh in a last attempt to stop myself from removing her panties. Didn't pan out. The sexy piece of material falls down to her knees with impossible speed. My teeth race to play on the newly exposed surface, but at the same time, her hands gently fall to my jawline.

She knows something is wrong. Her fingers fumble toward my ears, though her head still can't rise from the pillow. They stop on one of my piercings like she's been checking for something.

Nick doesn't have any fucking piercings. And she's just about to discover he’s not the one between her legs.

Fuck, I have to go.