Sweet Obsession (Ruthless Games, #1)

by Callie Rose

“Marcus can’t watch out for you all the time. So we pick up the slack when he can’t.”

How many people has that psychopath roped into following me around?

“I don’t like being lied to, Ayla. In fact, it’s one of the few things in the world I won’t fucking tolerate. So you wanna try that again?”

“No?” The husky voice barely sounds like it belongs to me. “Then what do you want?” The blue section of his right iris seems to flare brighter somehow even as his pupils dilate, the black circles expanding and eating up the light. “Everything.”

“So, what’s a guy like you doing hanging out with these two assholes?” I jerk my head to his left, indicating the other men, and the guy throws his head back and laughs.

The markings on his fingers aren’t random symbols. They don’t spell out “love” and “hate” or some shit like that. They’re numbers. The month, day, and year of the night I was shot.

Ryland’s harsh features are set like stone as he stares down at me, his hazel eyes full of some threat, some warning. Theo’s eyes are the same brilliant blue-green I remember from the bar, and his charming face slips into a mask of worry and sorrow as he watches me die. Marcus cups my face in both hands, cradling my head as the strength ebbs from my body. Three bloody smears mark his face like war paint, and his grip on me tightens as he lowers his head to mine, his lips brushing my ear. The low, deep rumble of his voice penetrates the fog rising up in my mind. And this time, I hear exactly what he says. “I will never let you go.”

She’s gone, just like all of her stuff is. And I know, without even having to guess, without having to think twice about it, who’s responsible for this. Marcus fucking Constantine.

Marcus’s expression hardens, the half-smile on his lips disappearing in a heartbeat. “She shouldn’t have talked to you like that.”

“When?” The single word is hard and flat. It’s not a question. It’s a demand. I clench my jaw, my gaze skating away from his. “When I was fifteen.” Then I huff a bitter laugh. “Why? Worried it might’ve happened on your watch?” He steps closer to me, erasing the small distance between us. He’s still holding my wrist in his big hand, his grip still crushing my bones. “No. It wouldn’t happen on my watch, Ayla. I wouldn’t let it.”

“You saved my life,” he murmurs. “It was an accident.” I say the words by rote, out of habit, but I can’t even muster up any fake conviction in them this time. Marcus gives me a look, tilting his head a little as if asking whether I’m really going to insist on playing this stupid game. “You saved my life,” he repeats more emphatically. “Every day since then, every fucking heartbeat, I owe to you.”

“Then what do you want?” There’s an edge of desperation to my voice. I have to know. I need to know. His expression shifts again, and for the first time since he crashed into my life in a flurry of violence and chaos, I see something like vulnerability in his eyes. His free hand moves to my face, his knuckles dragging down the side of my cheek. “You, Ayla. I want you.”

With our faces so close together, I’m inhaling his exhales, and it feels like our fucking souls are merging, like we’re stealing little pieces of each other with each breath.

“It’s always been you,” he murmurs roughly, his voice like sandpaper. “Ever since the first time I saw you that night. You’re my fucking guardian angel, my dirty secret, my broken doll. You’re everything I obsess over. Everything I crave.”

In the dim light of the room, the blue of his right iris seems to stand out even more, and I have a sudden vivid memory of him pushing inside me, filling me up, stretching me to my limit. He’s done it hundreds of times in my dreams. I’ve thought about this… He’s not the only one.

“Uh uh. We’re not fucking done. We’re not done until you come again on my goddamn cock.”

Glancing up, I see an expensive looking sleek gray car idling in front of Marcus’s house. The tinted passenger window rolls down, and bright blue-green eyes twinkle at me as Theo dips his head to peer out the window. “Oh, hey. Did somebody call for a bus?”

He shrugs slightly. “You said you wouldn’t let me drive you home. I said okay. So Theo will.”

The smile slips from Theo’s face, and when he turns to look at me, his expression is dead serious. “No. No bet. But Ry and I would follow Marcus into hell if he asked. We owe him. A lot more than any single debt.”

“Well, uh, thanks for the ride.” Dragging my gaze away from him, I unclip my seatbelt. “Anytime.” One side of his mouth tilts up. “Bus fare is on me tonight. Oh, and hey—if you ever need a bus to take you anywhere else, just let me know. We run special routes for beautiful women with rose tattoos.”

It’s one thing to have a stalker, but that’s not just what this is. Because whether I want to admit it or not, my level of obsession with him mirrors the obsession he has with me.

So why does this man have such a stranglehold on my soul?

Shoving myself away from the wall, I press into him, desperate to just fucking get this over with already. But before my lips have a chance to do anything more than brush against his, he’s ripped away from me. My eyes fly open just in time to see Greg go stumbling across the wide alley before crashing into the opposite wall. He catches himself with his hands, barely getting his arms up in time to keep from cracking his head against the brick, but before he can even turn around, Marcus is there, grabbing him by the front of his jacket and slamming his back against the wall with the force of a wrecking ball.

“You don’t touch her,” he growls, his voice as low and dangerous as an animal’s. “Don’t fucking touch her.” Greg blinks groggily, his eyes flying wide as his bleary gaze slides from Marcus to me and then back. “What the hell? Man, fuck you.” “Wrong answer.”

“Do you see that woman? Look at her.” His voice is low and eerily calm considering the violence that just exploded from him. “Go ahead. Look.” He drops his head closer to Greg’s, his lips pulling back from his teeth in something like a snarl. “I want you to remember that face. Because if you ever see it again, you will walk the other way. If she’s on one side of the street, you’ll be on the other. Or better yet, on another fucking street entirely. You will not come back to this bar. Ever. You will not speak to her. Ever. And if you touch her again, I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Oh, really? I’m not the one who just beat the shit out of a perfectly innocent man in a fucking alley!” His expression darkens, the blue and brown of his eyes churning. “He’s not innocent. He tried to take what isn’t his.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, angel. I’ve been inside you. You’ve taken my cock. You’ve taken my cum. You’re fucking mine.”

If Marcus’s kiss is sin, Theo’s kiss is redemption.

“All right.” Marcus’s voice is hard, and it seems to come from miles away. “All right!”

“I know what you’re trying to do, Ayla,” he says quietly. “And it won’t work. You think I want you less because you kissed Theo? You think that changes anything between us? It doesn’t. And it never will.”

“Those two are like my brothers. I will never hurt them. I will never fight them. But if you ever touch a man besides any of the ones present right now, that man will pay for it dearly. Do you understand?”

I nod, the small motion making Marcus’s stubble scrape against my cheek. “Yes.” “Good girl.”

I want to kill him through this kiss. I want to tear him apart. I want to burn him down and dance on the fucking ashes.

He glances at me like I’m an idiot. “You know I didn’t buy this shit for myself, right?” I shrug. “Too bad. I don’t accept charity.” He blows out another breath, a snort that’s almost a laugh. “You’re so goddamn stubborn.” “Says the man who won’t quit stalking me.”

My heart drums faster in my chest, and I cock my head at him, narrowing my eyes. “Have you been a good little stalker, just like he told you to? You say you don’t want to get inside my head, but you know a fuck of a lot about me, don’t you? Have you been in my apartment? Huh? Have you watched me through the window? Do you watch me dress and undress, watch me brush my fucking teeth, and hate it the whole time?”

“Sorry you didn’t get what you were after. But I’m glad you’re looking for him.” “Why?” “Because I know it’s important to you.”

“Yeah. It is. But it’s just a dream. A fantasy.” He presses a button on the dash, and the music grows a little quieter, allowing us to talk more easily. “No. I don’t think it is. That picture you have is real. Tangible. The boy in it is real. And if he exists, then that means somewhere, somehow, there’s a trail that leads to him.” Hope.

“I know a lot.” He speaks simply, making no effort to deny the length and breadth of his stalking. “But I still don’t know what I want to most.” “What’s that?” I whisper. “You.” He reaches across the center console and pushes a lock of dark hair out of my face, his fingertips brushing my temple. “What’s in your head. What’s in your heart.”

Maybe we really are bound by blood. By the blood I shed that night and the blood that has continued to pump through his veins ever since. By one hundred million heartbeats.

Then her face suddenly pales, her spine going stiff. Turning on her heel, she walks quickly back to the guy she’s with and wraps her arms around him again, nestling into his embrace. Hiding in it. Her gaze lands on something behind me at the same instant I feel it—the prickle of awareness moving down my spine as I catch the scent of soap and leather. Marcus.

“Fuck. I have to taste you again. See if you taste as sweet as I remember.”

“How do you do this to me, angel? How the fuck do you wreck me so bad?”

“I’ve known him for a long time. He’s got money. A lot of it. New money. His family runs in the same circles as mine, so our paths have been crossing for years. He’s an asshole, and he’s never liked me—or Theo or Ryland.” “That’s weird. You’re all so personable.” Marcus’s head jerks slightly in shock at my response, and then he belts out a laugh.

“No.” His tone is definitive. He drags his hands up my body to cup my face, gazing into my eyes. Then he releases his hold and curls his hands into loose fists, letting me read the date stamped onto his fingers—the marker of the connection that binds us. “You shouldn’t worry about any-fucking-thing.”

“You’re right. It wasn’t an accident,” I whisper, my voice hardly more than a breath.

chose to save Marcus Constantine’s life. To exchange mine for his. Except I lived too, against all odds.

I wonder if this is what it feels like to be a celebrity or a politician or anyone important enough to have a security detail that follows them everywhere. Only instead of being loved by millions or important to national security, I’m important solely to these three men.

“Sometimes I want to break you, angel,” he murmurs into my ear, his voice a rough burn. “Sometimes I want to break you apart just to see what’s inside.”

As if I don’t just want his body. I want his whole fucking soul.

“Break for me, angel. Let go.”