Limerence (Fated Fixation, #1)

by H.C. Dolores

“And there was no doubt in your voice. No hesitancy. You said you’d simply take what you wanted.” He makes eye contact with me again, the full weight of his gaze pinning me to the spot. “I could tell you meant it too. At the time, I didn’t realize how much you meant it, but still. That sort of tenacity…it’s so rare. People want for things all the time. They spend their whole lives wanting for money, for a new career, for a better life, but so many of them lack the actual grit to take what they want. Not you, though. You don’t lack for tenacity. Or grit. Lionswood is proof of that.” A fond smile breaks over his face, softening his features.

Oh, he *loves* her 💗

And after four years at Lionswood, I know exactly just how right. The true wealth of my classmates isn’t in designer bags and red-bottomed shoes – it’s in connections. It’s Sophie’s step-father sharing a golf game with almost the entirety of Dartmouth’s admission board. It’s the gaggle of tutors and college counselors Ava’s mother has been hiring since she was old enough to walk. It’s Adrian’s mother inviting Harvard’s president over for dinner. No matter how hard I try, how hard I study, how hard I work on my art, I’ve always been playing the same game with half the cards. And I’ll be stuck playing this game at Pratt, too.

And that's the game, ain't it?

I open my mouth to reply and nearly yelp when he scoops me up and rises from the chaise. “Let’s go to bed,” he murmurs, and I’m struck speechless by the fact that I feel absolutely weightless in his arms. He turns, and my stomach dips. There’s only one bed.

😈💗💗💗

I lie back on the bed, imagining what it’d feel like to be pushed into this surface. The satin sheets are certainly softer than the marble edge of the Dean’s bathroom sink. There’s more than enough room to splay my legs as wide as they’ll go – my arms too.

Thoughts Are Being Thunk™

“See something you like?” My gaze snaps back to his face. His mouth twitches like he’s fighting the urge to smirk, and I snuff out the instinct to avert my eyes. “Maybe.” Definitely. Yes. “Maybe?” The word’s a purr out of his mouth, and when he stalks toward me, eyes glinting like onyx stones in the light, I’m not sure he’s ever looked more like a predator. “Just maybe?” It should be illegal for someone to make that word – an innocuous, harmless word – sound so sinful.

😈😈😈💗💗💗💗💗💗

My eyes zero in on a stray water droplet sliding down the slope of his neck, and before I’ve made the conscious decision to, I’m leaning forward to lick it off. He goes completely still beneath my mouth, but it’s only a millisecond, and then I’m pulling away, a smile on my lips. “Just maybe.” Genuine surprise flits across his face. He wasn’t expecting me to lean into the game. Well, maybe I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve, too.

get him bestie!!

“I think it’s time for some sleep, don’t you?” His eyes dance with amusement. I try to ignore the burn of disappointment as I crawl under the covers, slot my body against his, and let him tug me close. He presses a soft kiss into my hair. “Goodnight, sweetheart.” It’s only now, with my head resting against his chest, that I realize his heart’s beating like a jackhammer.

oh, he WILL be daydreaming about that

A secretive smile creeps over his mouth as he adds, “You know…I’ll have full access to the Bombardier at Harvard. I can take you anywhere in the world.” I raise an eyebrow, ignoring the spark of excitement that flares to life in my chest. “You’re trying to sell me Harvard again.” “No,” he corrects. “I’m just letting you know that we could be spending our weekends in Santorini. Or Dubai. Japan. You spin the globe, see where your finger lands, and I’ll take you there.”

Not him trying to be Mr. Worldwide!! 😭✋💗

“Well…” His eyebrows pinch together, and I find myself fighting the urge to reach out and smooth the newfound creases forming on his face. “In any other context, I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t subject myself to an uncomfortable dinner over mediocre steak. I wouldn’t risk an even more uncomfortable conversation with my parents just so I could fly here –” He pauses to swat at a fly that’s dangerously close to landing on my shoulder. “A place that seems to be teeming with bugs in the dead of winter. And the worst tattoos I’ve ever seen in my life. And far too many Confederate flags. I wouldn’t do any of these things if it weren’t for you.” He shakes his head. “It’s like an…impulse. I need to know everything about you. I need to see where you’ve grown up. I need to see your family. I need to see every single part of your life – past and present – till I’m sure I know you better than you know yourself. It’s not a want. I have to.”

A psychiatrist with a new copy of the DSM-5 would have a FIELD DAY with him

“Ain’t that sweet,” Mom gushes, “It’s gorgeous, honey. In fact, I’d probably be houndin’ you to borrow it if I thought it’d fit me.” She chuckles and turns to Adrian. “I’ve been an extra-small my whole life. Only time I wasn’t was when I was pregnant with Poppy here. Poor girl got her father’s hips, though. We haven’t been able to trade clothes since she was thirteen.” And there it is. The backhanded compliment I knew was coming. I suppose it’s a good thing she didn’t see my red-bottomed shoes. She’d aim for my foot size next.

gods, I hate women like this

It’s almost concerning how quickly he’s figured her out. Not that Mae Davis is hard to charm as long as you’re working with a Y-chromosome, but still.

damn, that's sad

Adrian orders the whitefish, Mom and I opt for filet mignons, and Rick decides on a thirty four-ounce tomahawk, which reminds me that I’ll need to sit here and watch him eat thirty four-ounce tomahawk.

His greed sickens me 😭✋

“What a charming story,” he says. “See, honey?” Mom turns to me. “You take yourself too seriously with this ‘artist’ thing sometimes. It’s okay to lighten up.” “Well, she has a right to,” Adrian tells her. “In a couple of months, I suspect she’ll be accepting an offer from Harvard’s Art School.”

Oh, you know he wasn't just gonna lay back and let his girl get talked bad about all dinner!!

“Are you here to work on the bike?” I ask. “Rick’s not here. I’m not sure when he’ll be back. I was just looking for something, but it doesn’t seem to be out here, so I should probably go. Get out of your hair.” Three things happen at once. I realize there’s no bike in the garage anymore, Ian steps into the light and I notice, for the first time, that hair-raising, cold fury has engulfed his green eyes. And he’s clutching a pocket knife in his left hand.

POPPY!!!!!!!! 👁👄👁

“Listen, Rick’s –” “In Birmingham. Helping out a buddy today,” Ian says. “He left ‘bout an hour ago. Almost forgot his phone and everything.” A wave of nauseating horror rolls over me. Oh my God. There’s no school paper. There was never any school paper for me to pick up. “You’re the one who texted me,” I realize. “From Rick’s phone. You lured me here.” I lean against the workbench, my legs no more functional than a pile of instant Jell-O. “Did Rick –” Ian laughs, cold and sharp. “‘Course not. I deleted the texts.”

Fuck.

It’s almost embarrassing how easily he’s seen through me.

😬😬😬

I rub the back of my neck. “No, it was the water. I put a little – just a couple of drops – of orange juice in my water. Then, during our last bathroom break, right before the proctor took our tests, I switched them out.” “And nearly killed her,” he adds sharply. “But I didn’t!” I shoot back. “It was just a couple of drops. Enough to cause a reaction, to freak out the proctor, but not enough to kill her.” I’d spent those months before asking Anna all sorts of questions about her rare but severe allergy to oranges. I also knew she kept an EpiPen on her at all times.

oh my girl fought DIRTY to get into Lionswood

“Not if you threaten to go to the press,” I say. “They’ll have to do something – quietly, of course. They’ll kick me out without a diploma. Probably blackmail me from every college in the world.”

SHUT UP!!!!!

Please just say yes, and let me get out of here. “How do I know you’ll actually own up to it?” His tone’s tinged with skepticism. “You’re scared. You’re willing to say anything just to get out of here. I doubt you’ll be so generous once you’re back at school. You might even try to convince the faculty that I’m the liar.” My mouth turns dry. “Well…” “I want a video confession,” he interjects. “Here and now. I pull out my phone, and you confess to everything.” My stomach plummets. “Alright.”

OH MY FUCKING GOD, WHY WOULD YOU AGREE?!?!?!?????

Adrenaline floods my extremities. I’m sorry. I keep my eyes fixed on Ian. You don’t deserve any of this. I lean back till I feel one of my hands close around Rick’s adjustable wrenches. But I’ve worked too hard to watch my future go up in flames now. And then I swing. The adjustable wrench collides with Ian’s skull. Surprise flashes through his eyes, and then he crumples to the ground.

WELL!!

“You don’t have to do,” he says quietly, and it takes me a moment to comprehend what he’s saying. What he’s offering. “No,” I breathe. “No, I don’t want you to do that. I could never ask you to do that.” His mouth curves into a sardonic smile. “You’ve got a lot of moral hang-ups for someone who could’ve called the cops but, instead, called me.”

clock it 🤏

“He remembers enough,” he retorts. “Now, shall I tie up this loose end for you?” He glowers at Ian with such frigid intensity that even I shiver. “I think I'd enjoy it.”

Adrian omg

“Keep your filthy eyes off her,” Adrian snaps. “You don’t get to look at her.” Ian obeys, immediately shifting toward Adrian, and the weight comes off. I wait to be appalled by Adrian’s vicious display – disgusted even – but that is not what sparks in my lower belly. No, no, no. That did not turn me on.

mood, pookie lmaoo

“And one more thing. In a year from now, in five years from now, maybe even ten, you may want more. More money. More revenge. When that happens, and I’m certain it will…” Ian coughs and wheezes against the weight of his shoe as Adrian’s voice drops. “I can promise you that will be a very, very bad idea.” Goosebumps sprout across my skin. “Do we have a deal?” Adrian asks. I have as much trepidation on my face as Ian does – but he nods. Adrian’s answering smile is full of teeth.

I'm afraid I need him, Your Honor

“You talk about it like a weakness or some sort of flaw,” he says, “But your darkness makes you strong. It brought you to Lionswood. And to me.” His eyes glitter with intensity. “Do you think we’d be as drawn to each other as we are if there wasn’t something broken inside you, sweetheart? You don’t hide as well as you think you do. I haven’t always known what’s broken, but I’ve known it’s there. I’ve known your darkness. More than that…” His grip on my face tightens, not to the point of pain – but to awareness. “I’m attracted to it. I’m a moth to your flame. This morning, I tasted it.” His gaze flickers down to my mouth. “And now, I want it all. I want to satisfy your hunger." And then he’s kissing me.

*clutches them to my chest* my darlings 🥺💗

“Have you?” My heart clenches in anticipation for the ‘yes.’ Of course he’s done it. Surely, not with anyone at school – at least, I hope not – but with someone. Maybe a budding supermodel on a white sand beach, coyly asking him to apply sunscreen to her back as she slips out of her bikini top. Or a foreign socialite’s daughter protesting a boring dinner party by sneaking up to his room. Maybe even some-one-day-to-be Countess or Duchess or – “No,” he says. “I haven’t.”

Of course he hasn't, have you met him? 😭 He's neurotic on a good day, I love him, but my autistic king was too busy masking all his life for love 😭😭

“You’re the first person who’s ever made me want to participate in the act.” Raw, primal satisfaction tears through me, and it’s a struggle to keep my expression neutral. “So, before me, you’ve never done…” “Anything,” he finishes. “I’ve never had any desire to.”

my demisexual king 👑

“Those are the tame thoughts, of course,” he continues. “I have others too. Darker, less conventional fantasies. I think about using red silk ties to truss you up in all sorts of positions and then making a meal out of you. I think about buying you some expensive, diamond-studded choker that people will fawn all over at parties…with no idea of all the dark, ugly bruises hiding underneath. I think about making you beg. For many things, actually.” Heat flares to life in my lower belly, the depraved parts of me singing that I’ve found a kindred soul – and want, stronger than I’ve felt, tugs at me. I want that.

My two peas in a depraved pod 🫛💗

He rolls my nipples between his nimble fingers, chuckling when the movement elicits another soft moan. “You make the sweetest little sounds, sweetheart.” His voice pitches low, almost gravely. “Now I want to see what others you can make.”

I'm bout to start climbing my walls

“Do you understand?” His nails dig into my thighs. Another warning. “Yes,” I rasp. “Yes, I understand.” He answers, not with his mouth, but his tongue. Pleasure rolls through me as he swipes it across my lips and then my clit – because, of course, the boy who studies medical textbooks like it’s a recreational hobby knows exactly where the clit is.

The perks of dating a future doctor

“It’s alright.” His voice’s a soothing timber against my skin. “You can take it, sweetheart.” And maybe it’s because he’s still eliciting shocks of pleasure with his mouth, or maybe it’s because I don’t want to disappoint him, so I do. Warmth sparks as my core slowly stretches around the second finger, building inside me like a pressure cooker. “Look at you,” he hums. “You’re such a good girl for me.”

So glad to know that my earlier suspicion that he was a soft dom was, in fact, correct 🫠🦋🦋🦋💗💗💗💗💗💗💗

“It doesn’t matter if you change your mind,” he groans. “It doesn’t matter if you wake up one day and decide you hate me. I’ll never let you go.” His pace quickens, but his strokes have begun to get sloppy. “I don’t care what I have to do. Who I have to kill. I’ll break you into tiny pieces and rebuild you myself if it means I get to keep you. You’re never leaving me, sweetheart.”

I knew this from Day 1.Like, pookie's already got his Baby Registry list, and houses picked out.

3 Months Later

3 months later????! The way I really thought I knew what the structure for this book and duology was gonna be because of the pacing, but fuck me I guess, because once again I'm wrong 😭🤙

I’m ready to go to war when I open my mouth, but surprisingly, Penelope hits the front lines first. “They don’t all end in heartbreak,” she adds. “My older sister married her high-school sweetheart.” At Sophie’s withering glare, Penelope tries to retreat into the couch cushions. “Didn’t your sister also have an affair with her landscaper?” Penelope nods mutely. “Right.” Sophie turns back to me, eyes gleaming with victory. “Case in point.”

thanks Penelope, you tried 😭

I read the enclosed letter at least five times before I’m confident that I’m not hallucinating its contents. But it’s all here. Stamped letterhead. Black ink. Signed by the Dean. My acceptance letter from the Pratt Institute.

omg

A future without Adrian would shatter me regardless, but if it happened then, after I willingly handed over my future, I’m not sure I’d ever be able to pick myself up again.

No yeah, I get it. that crash out would be legendary.

“Sweetheart,” Adrian strokes my cheek. “Whatever you need from me, I will gladly give it to you if it alleviates your fears that I’m going to wake up one morning and no longer want you by my side.”

The way I know he's trying to figure out who's been whispering straight nonsense in her ears 😭✋

I meet his gaze head-on. “I love you.” My confession hangs in the space between us, as fragile as the heart that’s now beating in my throat. “I just need to know that you love me, too,” I whisper. “And I know it’s stupid. I know you’ve already proved your devotion to me, but I just need to hear it. I need to know that I’m not just uprooting my life for desire or want or…” I swallow. “I just need to hear it. I need to know.” Dead air’s my only answer. Adrian stares at me like I’m a pair of semi-truck headlights gunning straight for him, and I’ve never seen him scared, but right now, he looks terrified. Of me.

this is a sign of a man who needs THERAPY 😭✋💗

“But what I feel for you –” His pitch eyes zero in on me, the light of the flames reflected in them. “It’s more. It’s not some vague, fleeting emotion. You’ve consumed me. You’ve crawled into my brain and infected every inch of it. You’ve turned me into a man obsessed. What I have for you…” He pauses. Searching for the right word. “It’s not love, it's limerence.” His grip on my waist tightens. “It’s not patient. It’s not always kind. It’s not selfless. It’s as dark and twisted as I am.” And it’s not love.

oh gods...

“New York.” Another pause. “You got into Pratt.” A chill runs down my spine, but I hold my ground. “You don’t know that.” “Well, I didn’t,” he retorts, and I swear I can hear the smirk in his voice. “But you just confirmed it for me.” And then, more sharply: “So, what? Now that Pratt’s a done deal, you don’t need me anymore? One last fuck, and you slip off to an entirely new state like a stranger in the night? Should I have left you cab fare on your way out?” I flinch. Of course he’s angry – he has every right to be angry.

I'M SICK!!!! SICK!!!!!

I’m still trembling as the plane takes off, but a cloudless future stretches out in front of me, and I realize that Adrian’s promise doesn’t evoke fear or dread. Only thrill.

Of course