Chapter 3 Cain
Fuck …
I shouldn’t have touched her.
I should have let her fall. But, no—she might have hurt herself, and I couldn’t allow that.
Fuck, I can’t stop thinking about her stunning, ice-blue eyes looking deeply into mine.
I can’t stop thinking about her trembling breaths hammering against my lips.
The way her beautiful blonde, long, wavy hair embraced her tiny, fragile body.
The way I want to wrap myself around her.
I can’t forget her scent, consuming my clothes and my skin.
I can still smell her all around me. I can still feel her skin underneath my fingertips.
And now? Oh, lord, now all I can think about is having her beneath me, sliding inside her and making her helplessly scream my name, begging me to continue.
I can feel the obsession devouring my deranged mind, eating away at whatever sanity I have left. Her intoxicating scent infects me, consuming every thought until I can’t think of anything else.
I should have stayed away. It would have been safer for her. This was a mistake, a grave mistake that could put her in danger. But little does she know, no one can escape my wrath if they hurt her. That would be their demise.
God, if she only knew. If she knew what I want to do to her, without a moral compass or any decency, it would only scare her away.
If she knew the extent of my obsession, my unhinged thoughts, the way I want to ruin her, her body …
her little pussy. If she knew the way I want to make her squeal with pain, begging me to stop—or to continue …
but I know that once I start, there’s no going back.
I know that by the time I’m done with her, she’ll never want to leave.
Wandering the mall’s corridors, I light up a smoke in a stupid attempt to calm my mind and my racing thoughts. How foolish do I sound? Like a child who thinks they’ll slip away with a lollipop or a tiny, stupid toy.
People are staring at me. God, I want to murder them, one by one, for provoking my temper with their fucking pointless glances. After all, touching her doesn’t purge my impulse to slit the throats of anyone who dares lay eyes on her or even allows themselves the faintest, unholy thought about her.
As I walk past a flower shop, my gaze catches on a single crimson rose standing alone in an empty vase. It’s flawless on the surface, yet something feels off about it, as if there’s a reason it’s been left on its own.
Strange, because it looks fresh, vibrant, alive. Out of all the flowers in the shop, this one draws me in. There’s something beneath its obvious beauty, something that makes me want to ruin it. To savor its scent, take in every bit of its perfection, and then tear it apart.
Just like I want to treat Kate?ina. I want to ruin her, shape her into something beautiful, but the way I see it. I want to break her and make her realize what true beauty means.
I walk inside, move closer to it, and hold it between my fingers. Flawless and fresh indeed.
“Need any help, sir?” the florist asks with a bright smile.
I take out a ten-dollar bill and hand it to her. “Just this.”
A faint and awkward smile laces her lips as her eyes linger on mine for a little longer. She hesitates for a bit. “Is it for a girl?”
My eyes dart involuntarily and catch her passing outside the flower shop. She’s alone now; her friend is not anywhere nearby. “Not just any girl.”
I walk outside, unable to resist the urge to be around her once again.
Her eyes linger on me for a few seconds before they smile at my sight. Her captivating glacier-blue eyes can smile brighter than her gorgeous, full lips could ever do.
Damn, every time I see her, she’s more beautiful, radiating absolute sexiness and elegance. Her blonde, long, and silky hair cascades on her defined shoulders and laces her prominent collarbone.
“It’s you again!” She smiles. “My savior.”
Fuck, her perfume smells like roses. How didn’t I realize it before?
I halt a few inches closer to her and let my eyes examine her. She’s different. She’s carrying a bag. She probably bought something. I peek at the bag hanging on her shoulder, and there I see it.
She bought the dress I had suggested. Good girl. She listens.
She notices my stare, and her cheeks turn reddish. She blushes at my presence, and that makes me even harder for her.
“You were right, after all. The dress was beautiful,” she says.
I look at nothing but her full lips and tongue. I can’t stop thinking a million ways that I want to ravish her pretty mouth until she chokes and gags on my cock. I want to bite that well-defined cupid’s bow on her upper lip until she hisses from pain as my teeth sink deeper into her skin.
“Everything looks beautiful on you, Kate?ina.”
She lets out a hesitant sigh. My brows furrow in question.
“The way you pronounce my name is …”
“Wrong?”
“No, it’s …” She tucks a strand of her long hair behind her ear. “Different.”
“Different?”
“It’s as if you’re enjoying it.”
I lean in and smile. “That’s because I am.”
She reciprocates my smile. Fuck, she’s mouth-watering.
A thought strikes me instantly. She does look like a rose. Or, more precisely, like the one I’m holding. Her parents kept her isolated from the real world, just like this rose sat alone in its vase. They’ve fucked up her mind, making her believe she’s not enough. Stupid fuckers.
Just like this flower, she’s delicate, untouched by the trash outside her filthy cage. But roses wither, and innocence never lasts. And I’m here to be the one who proves it to her.
A rose is the only flower that can represent her natural beauty and elegance. The only one that can depict my longing for her.
“This is for you.” I offer her the flower.
“What is that?” She smiles bashfully, unable to believe my gesture, and holds the rose gently in her hand. Her fingertips skim gently against my skin, adding to my thirst for her touch.
“As a welcome to the country.”
“Oh …” She sniffs the rose, her eyes nailed on me. “This must be fate.”
“How so?” I ask, pretending I don’t know what she means.
“My last name means ‘little rose’ in English.”
“You don’t say.” I brush my hand over my stubble.
How innocent she looks. How oblivious to my obsession with her.
Of course, I already know her last name and her full background.
What she doesn’t know is how much I struggle on a daily basis not to fly to the Czech Republic and slit her boyfriend’s throat just because he dares to touch her and treat her like trash.
“Then I hope you like my little gift, r??i?ko.” I smile back at her.
“Actually, my last name is R??i?ková,” she corrects awkwardly.
“I know.” Unable to hold my hands to myself and keep my cool, I brush a strand of her feathered hair behind her ear, revealing more of her beautiful, porcelain face. Her eyes follow my movements, and she quietly accepts my gesture. “I literally called you ‘little rose.’”
“Oh.” She smiles coyly as her long, black lashes flicker. “I love roses.” She pulls back and lowers her feline eyes, trying to avoid my persistent eye contact. “I love everything about them. The smell, the sight of them, their colors.” Her voice sounds awkward, nearly shaky.
Inevitably, I want more. I want all of her. I want her eyes, and her mind focused on me. I want to touch her again and show her a glimpse of my fantasies about her.
“Have you tasted it?” I ask.
“I … what?”
Without breaking eye contact, I reach for the rose in her hand, pluck a petal, and press it to my lips, letting it slip into my mouth. “You don’t know the true power of its scent until you taste it.”
A faint smirk curls her lips, laced with both curiosity and anticipation. I can see it. I can feel it.
With the taste of the rose lingering on my lips, I lean in closer, brushing my thumb gently over her luscious lips before moving mine toward them.
She doesn’t move. She wants more. She’s practically begging me to continue.
“The taste of it will remind me of you, little rose,” I murmur, slowly tracing her lips with my tongue. Fuck … it’s almost euphoric. “You’re both sweet and velvety.” I pause, feeling her breath, shallow and quick, brush against my lips once more. “And all I want to do is savor every inch of you.”
I pull myself back and enjoy the sight of her licking and biting her lips in an attempt to taste it all over again. Her eyes stay locked on mine, lips parted, waiting for more, and I feel myself on the edge of losing control.
I catch sight of her friend coming back from the restrooms, where she must have smoked another cig.
Enough. I have to go before I put her in more danger just by being near her. I need to leave before he sees us.
“Have a good day, Kate?ina.”
I turn my back and leave without waiting for her answer. What could she even say?
My eyes dart all over the place, searching. Scanning. Fearing that he might be somewhere near, witnessing my happiness as I get closer to my obsession. Closer to tasting it. Fearing that he is somewhere around, waiting to threaten her.
Fuck, it was a mistake. Now I want more. I need more. More than before. Harder than ever.
She has to be mine. All mine.