Obsession

by Harleigh Beck

Out there, in the real world, men smell of cheap cologne, desperation, and fabric conditioner. This man, this killer, smells of soap, a hint of sweat, and something uniquely him. Something inherently masculine and untamed.

I imagine him stroking his calloused, blood-soaked fingers over their tear-streaked cheeks, comforting them with hushed whispers before pressing down on the swell of their trembling bottom lip. Robbie is light and dark. His undeniable regard for detail and the care he takes in his killings clash with the vicious violence he possesses at the tips of his fingers. He’s a ruthless monster who carves unconventional beauty with his blade.

His lips slowly curve into a sinful smile that would have me throw caution to the wind and let him haul me into his car on a darkened road. Maybe it would be worth dying at his hands.

“Touch him, and he dies. The choice is yours. Unless”—a breathy chuckle whispers across my lips—“you want me to kill him. Trust me, baby. It’ll be my pleasure.”

See, that’s the thing: darkness recognizes darkness. It transcends time and space to find the other half of its soul, like darkening, ominous clouds that gather over a grassy field. Sooner or later, lightning strikes and burns valleys to the ground.

“The game changed with you, Savannah. You make me want to chase you to the ends of the earth if it lets me taste your fear in the air. It calls to me like a desperate prayer for absolution late at night.”

“Are you scared?” he asks, the rumble of his voice reminding me of mulled wine at Christmas—warm and rich and spicy.

“I trust you.” My labored exhales gusts out in front of me, cheek burning and stinging, squished in the snow. His low chuckle caresses the curve of my neck like a deadly promise—cold, ruthless, callous. “Don’t.”

I don’t like how powerless she makes me feel, yet I can’t stay away. I don’t want to stay away. Not when she’s the sun that parts the clouds or the silence that calms the voices inside my head.

I tip her chin up with my thumb, then nip at her lips with my teeth, whispering, “Tell me to stop. Please, tell me to stop. I’m dangerous, Savannah.”

One more word leaves his lips, one word that cuts through the silent night like a bullet, one word that tilts my entire world on its axis. “Run.”