Chapter 9
COLTON
I slam my fist into the steering wheel, my knuckles splitting open as the rage courses through me. The fucking therapist was wrong—this isn’t about control, it’s about ownership. Luella is mine . She’s always been mine, even when she ran.
Especially when she ran.
My hands are shaking as I grip the wheel, trying to steady my breathing. That little display at the bar— Christ . The way she looked at that fucking bartender, knowing I was watching. Knowing exactly what it would do to me.
Did she want him to die? Because I’m not ashamed to admit that I imagined wearing his skin like a robe after the way she smiled at him.
She’s in my blood now, deeper than before. The darkness inside me writhes and pulses, begging to be unleashed. I thought therapy would help, thought talking about my “issues” would somehow make me worthy of something more than this sick game we play.
But fucking her tonight...it awakened something in me I’ve been trying to suppress.
“Fuck!” I slam my hand against the dashboard, welcoming the sharp sting of pain. It grounds me, reminds me I’m still here, still human. Sort of.
The therapist’s words echo in my head. “You need to establish healthy boundaries, Colton. This obsession isn’t healthy for either of you.”
Healthy? I laugh, the sound harsh and bitter in the confined space of my car. There’s nothing healthy about the way I want to possess Luella, own her, destroy her. Nothing healthy about the way she craves it.
And she does. She wants me so badly.
But I can’t go back to that fucking therapist and her practiced sympathetic nods. Not now. Not after feeling her beneath me again, watching her come undone by my hand. The darkness inside me has tasted freedom, and it wants more.
She deserves better than this. Better than me.
But I’m too far gone to care.
The monster inside me purrs, satisfied with tonight’s claiming, yet hungry for more. Always more. And Luella...she feeds it, nurtures it, makes it grow stronger with every defiant glance, every deliberate taunt.
I start the car. The darkness throbs inside me, a living, breathing thing that only she understands. Only she accepts.
Maybe that’s why I can’t let her go.
Maybe that’s why I never will.
I settle into the familiar darkness that cloaks my car. The seat’s worn in just the right places from countless nights spent here, watching, waiting. The leather creaks as I shift, my eyes fixed on her bedroom window where a soft light still glows.
“I’m protecting her,” I mutter, but the lie tastes bitter on my tongue.
Protecting her from who? She killed her monster, didn’t she?
No .
My lips twitch as excitement builds in me.
It’s me. I’m her monster.
My fingers drum against the steering wheel as I watch her silhouette move across the window. Her curves make my mouth water—then there’s the sway of her hips, the graceful arch of her back, the delicate slope of her neck that I just want to bite. Even from this distance, the way she moves is hypnotic, deliberate, and seductive. Worse still, I know what lies beneath, driving me to the edge of madness with just her movements behind that thin curtain.
The darkness inside me purrs as I remember how she felt, how she tasted. How she surrendered. But it’s not enough. It’s never enough. It’ll never be enough.
I need more.
My phone buzzes with another message from my therapist. I ignore it. What the fuck would she know about this? About the way Luella feeds this thing inside me, makes it grow stronger with every breath she takes?
A man walks past her building, his head turning to look up at her window. My hand tightens on the gear shift until my knuckles turn white. One wrong move, just one, and I’ll...
But he keeps walking, and I force myself to breathe.
“Just making sure she’s safe,” I whisper to myself, but the monster in my chest laughs.
We both know what this is. What it’s always been.
An obsession.
A possession.
A claiming.
I could sit here all night, watching her window, telling myself I’m keeping her safe. But really, I’d just be feeding this darkness that threatens to consume us both.
But something is bothering me. Something I can’t ignore.
The music from the bar pulses behind me as I follow the bartender down the dimly lit street. His shift ended ten minutes ago, and now he’s walking home, completely oblivious to the shadow trailing him. My fingers twitch at my sides, remembering how Luella smiled at him.
I own that fucking smile.
He stops at a crosswalk, checking his phone. The streetlight casts an orange glow over his face, illuminating that pathetic neck tattoo he probably thinks makes him cool.
I could end him right here. It would be so easy. Just a quick movement, a sharp twist, and...
“Hey, man, you got a light?”
I freeze, realizing I’ve gotten too close. The bartender’s staring at me now, recognition flickering across his face.
“Oh shit, you’re the guy from earlier. With that hot girl.”
My jaw clenches so hard, I hear my teeth crack. Hot girl. Like she’s just some random woman he can comment on.
“Yeah,” I manage to growl out, reaching into my pocket. My fingers brush past my knife to find my lighter. “Here.”
He leans in to light his cigarette, and the monster inside me screams for blood. One quick movement. That’s all it would take.
But Luella’s face flashes in my mind. The way she looked at me tonight, like she saw past the monster to something worth saving.
“Thanks, man.” He leans back out, completely unaware of how close to death he just came. “Is she your girlfriend?”
My hand shoots out before I can stop myself, gripping his throat. Not squeezing, not yet. Just holding. A warning.
“She’s mine,” I state, my voice eerily calm despite the rage coursing through my veins. “That’s all you need to know.”
Fear floods his eyes as he realizes his mistake.
Good. He should be afraid.
I release him, watching as he stumbles backward, cigarette forgotten on the ground.
“Jesus fuck, man!” He rubs his throat, backing away. “You’re fucking crazy!”
I smile, and he runs.
Smart boy.
The monster in my chest roars in frustration, denied its prey. But something else, something quieter, whispers that I made the right choice.
For her.
Always for her.
I turn back toward my car, leaving the bartender to his pathetic life. He’s not worth it. Not worth losing what little progress I’ve made.
But if he so much as looks at her again...
Well, maybe next time, the monster won’t be so easily tamed.
The voices won’t shut up as I drive, their whispers becoming screams that echo through my skull.
She’s yours. Go back. Take her. Keep her.
My hands clench the steering wheel as I try to focus on the road, but the darkness inside me writhes and twists, demanding attention.
“I can't,” I growl, but even I don’t believe myself anymore.
You left her there. Alone. Anyone could take her.
“Shut up!”
The car swerves as I slam my palm against the dashboard. Pain shoots through my hand, but it’s not enough to drown out the noise in my head.
Weak. You’re getting weak. The therapy is making you soft.
Maybe they’re right. The old Colton wouldn’t have hesitated. The old Colton would have marked her, claimed her, made sure she couldn’t fucking walk for days.
But I left.
Because you’re afraid. Afraid she’ll see the real monster inside.
“She already has,” I whisper, remembering the way she looked at me tonight, the way she surrendered. The way she fucking craved it.
Then why leave? Why deny what you both want?
My vision blurs as the voices grow louder, more insistent. Are they even separate from me anymore? Or is this just the fractured pieces of my psyche trying to make sense of the hunger that consumes me?
Worst still, they’re fucking right.
The darkness pulses behind my eyes, and I can still taste her on my tongue, still feel her pulse racing beneath my fingers.
Go back. Take her. Keep her.
“Fuck!”
I slam on the brakes, the car screeching to a halt in the middle of the empty street. My breath comes in harsh pants as I rest my forehead against the wheel.
They’re right.
I’m hers as much as she’s mine, and running from that truth is only making the monster stronger.
The darkness purrs as I turn the car around, heading back to her apartment.
Back to where I belong.