Chapter 12 Cain
Ihave never desired a woman as intensely as I want her. Never in my life have I fantasized so wildly about anyone else. She awakens primal, animalistic instincts within me.
It’s been a day, a whole fucking day that I haven’t seen her, and just knowing she’s in my house makes me wanna fuck everything, find her, and fuck her violently as well.
How innocent she is. She thinks she can escape from me.
From my obsession. From my madness. Little does she know that the more she resists and runs away from me, the stronger my obsession grows. Darker and deadlier.
I need to see her. I need to breathe her, touch her. Get inside her.
I still remember the first time I saw her in her hometown. A place so breathtakingly beautiful it felt almost magical. And yet, to me, it was tainted. Stained by his presence.
I had only been there once before.
When Landon told me he had found footage of a man who looked exactly like him, I laughed it off. Impossible. But then I saw it with my own eyes, and my blood ran cold.
It was him. Alive. Walking. Fucking breathing.
But how? I killed him. I know I did. No one could have survived that explosion. Not when the fire swallowed his car whole, turning steel to ash. Not when I stood there and watched the flames consume everything.
And yet, here he was, trying to play tricks on my mind.
I had to see for myself. I went to that cursed place and searched.
I threatened scumbags. I bribed cops. I questioned anyone who might know anything about him.
But in the end, no one did.
Not a whisper. Not a trace. It was as if he had never existed.
And yet, I had seen him. I knew he was real.
Which meant he was hiding. Or worse, he was waiting.
And then, one day, as I observed the people around me trying to convince me that I was not crazy, I saw her.
Kate?ina.
She walked down the cobblestone roads of Prague, lost in her thoughts. She wore a simple outfit. Light-washed jeans and a black leather jacket over a white shirt. She was spring itself, drifting down the road.
Her expression was troubled. Sad, even. Yet somehow, that sadness only made her more breathtaking. More ethereal.
She was beautiful. More beautiful than any woman I had ever laid eyes on. Even in sorrow, she was the sun, casting light upon everyone around her. A kind of light I had never known—a type of warmth I had never deserved.
She was perfect. Too perfect.
I wanted to go and speak to her. To know what thoughts ran behind those magical ice-blue eyes. To touch her, just once.
But then I hesitated.
She was too pure. Too untouched by the darkness that clung to me like a second skin. She didn’t belong anywhere near a mind as deranged as mine.
So, I stayed in the shadows. Watching. Wanting.
And that’s when the obsession began.
I watched her. Everywhere. Every day. At first, from a distance, hidden in the faceless crowds of the city.
But I needed more.
I decided to stay in Prague for some time.
I learned the rhythm of her life. I memorized the way she smiled at strangers but, in a weird way, never at herself. Something about her made me want to stay. Keep observing.
I learned about her interests. Her love for dance faded when no one ever supported her to follow that path. Her parents never allowed her to dream it. It would be too against their filthy values and mindset.
They saw a doll to be controlled and nothing more. They used her like a tool, demanded more than she could ever give, and when she failed to meet their impossible standards, they pushed her aside—locked her down, forgetting her existence.
How much I want to murder them for daring to treat her this way.
I couldn’t stand it. They treated her like nothing, like a burden, a disappointment. They didn’t love her. They never had. And now I regret I didn’t shove a knife down their throats.
I told myself I wouldn’t touch her. I wouldn’t taint her. But God, I wanted to.
I wanted to feel her skin under my fingertips. To make her shudder from pleasure as she moaned my name louder. I wanted to mark her, to claim her in a way no one else ever could.
To hear that voice tremble, to feel her body stiffen in my arms as she realized that there would be no escape from me.
So the obsession with finding him faded away, and the obsession with her grew inside me. It clawed in my mind, like the darkness they spilled in my soul, and hasn’t let me relax ever since.
After coming home from work, I enter my house and head straight to her room. There's no point in wasting more time.
I march down the hall and forcefully open her bedroom door. She instantly jolts up from the bed she was lying in.
“Oh, it’s you,” she breathes as if relieved and lies back in her bed.
“Were you expecting someone else?” I walk farther into the bedroom.
“The police, maybe?” The corner of her upper lip curls higher as she throws her venomous scorn at me. She turns her back, covers herself with the blanket, and sinks in the bed.
I can’t even begin to describe how amused this woman makes me. Everything about her turns me on, even her spiteful tongue and resentful attitude.
I take a cigarette from my pants pocket and light it up, inhaling deeply.
“Stop being a martyr.” I drag and keep the smoke in my lungs. “It doesn’t suit you.”
“And do what?” She jolts up, facing me again. “Huh? Wear the dresses you bought for me and walk around your house waiting for you to chase me down and fuck me?”
I love that feisty side of hers. She’s such a fucking turn-on.
“I haven’t done that. Yet.” I let the cigarette dangle from my lips and take one step closer. “However, I cannot deny that your pleads to fuck you ring in my ears loudly.” I remove the sandy blonde strand of hair that falls loose on her face.
“Fuck off!”
I grab her face and squeeze her cheeks. “Tsk, tsk, tsk, such a dirty little thing.”
“What do you want from me, huh?!” She slaps my hand away. “You’ve trapped me here in your terrifying house, and you’re not even around. I am alone all day!”
“Would you want me to be with you all the time?” I smirk.
“I-I didn’t say that …” She falters and pulls herself back. I hum in an attempt to hide my amusement once again. “I don’t even have the basics in here.”
My eyes narrow. “Basics?”
“A straightening iron.” She crosses her arms.
“That will make you happy?”
“Being free will make me happy.” She scoffs, a snide smile adorning her sexy face.
“Not gonna happen.” I inhale the smoke again.
“You know what? If you didn’t smoke in my face, it would make me happy.”
I pause for a few seconds and look into her glacier-blue eyes. Her gaze locks on mine, trying to decode my expression. Her features soften. Such an innocent, gorgeous fucking dollface.
My eyes drop to her lips. Those full lips that I can’t take out of my head and make me fantasize about a million and one scenarios about how badly I want to violate them to the point they’re swollen and red.
Until she can no longer take it. The soft, natural lines framing her lips become more pronounced as her impatience for me to speak grows.
I grab her chin gently, enjoying the way her nostrils flare stronger by the second, and her chest moves up and down faster. She doesn’t draw back, nor does she resist.
Her skin is soft beneath my fingertips. Her long lashes flutter as her breath quivers against my lips.
This is one more time that I want to grab her face and fuck her lips violently just because she dares to defy me.
Just because she dares to be so fucking perfect that my mind can’t even comprehend it.
Because now she’s perfect—now that she breaks and reveals her fiery, defiant side.
Now that she’s finding the courage to seize life and slowly take control of her choices.
Every single glance or thought becomes one more obsession for me. One more reason for my mind to race is imagining things that most people can’t even fathom doing to others. Every time I smell her, see her, or touch her—hell, every time I am around her—her presence consumes my mind and numbs it.
I should bend her over and ram into her.
But instead, I decided to tease and infuriate her a bit more, making things funnier.
I blow the smoke in her face, causing it to scrunch with loathing and disgust.
“Fuck you! I hate you!” she squeals.
“You need to rest.”
“I need to kill you!”
“Get in line, little rose.”
I turn on my heel and leave her room, closing the door behind me. She’s cursing me in Czech, causing me to chuckle in amusement. This woman is something else.
But enough entertainment for today.
I walk into my office and take a seat in the comfortable black leather chair. I wish I could stay in it for a while without doing anything, but the world is moving, and I’ve got business to attend to. I light up one more smoke and dial Landon’s number.
After only two seconds, he picks it up.
“Yes, boss.”
“My office. Now.”
I hang up and lean back in the chair, dragging the smoke deep into my lungs.
I snatch the Rubik’s Cube from the edge of my desk and begin twisting it instinctively, my fingers moving without a thought.
I must admit that she has me thinking. I thought that she wasn’t a material woman.
I believed that she didn’t need such things as cosmetics or hair devices.
Perhaps because she doesn’t actually need any of these, and she looks stunning even when wearing nothing or right after she wakes up.
Or at least that’s how I see her. I guess that deep down, she is just a woman like all the others, and she needs a few material things to feel pretty.
Or maybe she’s trying to play me and pretend she needs them because she’s a spoilt brat. Though she’s not, I know it. On the contrary, she’s a woman who never had a word and always followed her parents’ will and commands.
In any case, I got my daily dose of her intoxicating presence. Of course, it’s not enough. It will never be. But for now, that’s okay.
Landon knocks on the door thrice—just like he always does—interrupting my thoughts.
“You called, boss.”
I don’t talk; I don’t want to cut short my so-longed-for seconds of peace this little buddy can provide just by keeping its smoke a bit longer inside my lungs. I merely gesture for him to sit across from me.
He does so, his usual smirk plastered on his face. This bastard looks more twisted by the years.
“What’s going on with the shipment to Puerto Rico?” I ash my cigarette into the crystal ashtray on my desk.
His expression softens. Busted, big boy.
“It’s a bit late. There was a storm—”
“There’s always a storm.” I cut him off. “People died for that shipment.”
“Maxwell was a traitor. He deserved it.”
“And yet here we are.” I lean in on my desk, my gaze piercing his. “Maxwell’s dead, but my guns are still floating somewhere on the Atlantic. So, tell me—who else is going to disappoint me today?”
“No one else, boss.” His sick and twisted expression relaxes instantly. “The shipment arrives tomorrow morning.” His lashes flicker, and his eyes dart all over the place, avoiding looking at me. “You have my word.”
“Careful, Landon. You might be enjoying your job, but I can assure you that I enjoy it more.”
He gulps. Look how the tables turn. The lion seems like a scared little kitty.
“I know.” He falters. “It won’t happen again.”
“I’m sure it won’t.” I lean back. “Because if it does, you’ll be floating in the harbor alongside those crates.” I click my tongue. “Am I clear?”
“Crystal.”
“Good. Does Torres know how stupid his attempt was?”
“I don’t think so. You killed the messenger, remember?”
I hum, recalling that night. “Send a message. I want to spice things up.”
His sinister smirk returns on his face. “How loud?”
“Dig out his head and send it. I want to meet this parasite myself and see what he knows.”
“But you didn’t chop it off.”
I raise a brow. “Fix my mistake.”
He nods, satisfied. “Of course, boss.”
I set the cube back on the desk, feeling his gaze burn into me.
“What’s with that cube, anyway?” he asks. Fool.
“Mind your business.”
He clenches his jaw. “Of course,” he says, his voice tight, but I can feel the fury behind his words because I scolded him.
“Now go. I have some calls to make.” He stands up, straightening his black blazer. “Tomorrow, I’ll spend almost all day at the office.”
“Do you need me?”
I inhale through clenched teeth. “No, you have a day off.”
“What about your guest?”
My gaze turns dark. “What about her?”
“I can stay here and watch her.”
“No.”
He scoffs. “Trust me. I’ve got this.”
“How foolish of you, Landon. I don’t trust anyone, and you know it. Especially around her. Not you, not Eleanor. Hell, not even myself.”
He lowers his head before turning to leave. “Understood.”
“Any news from …?” He knows I believe he’s still alive, but Landon wasn’t one of them back then, not like Eleanor.
He shakes his head. “No. Nothing.”
I light another cigarette and take a long pull.
“Then we’d better start digging graves.”