Brutal Obsession

by S. Massery

Willow Number two: No boys. Wait, I said that already. But I really mean it. Knox is friends with that asshat. I’m never fucking him again. But, bitch, your drunk BJ game is strong.

I don’t quite understand the mechanics of getting something I can’t have. Like Violet. No, brain. I don’t want Violet.

Dancing was like that for me, except it was just my body that I had supreme control over. Every little muscle, every expression. Down to my fingertips and my toes. It was a way to express myself, yes, but it was more than that. It was more beautiful than that. I see it in Greyson. In the way he skates. And I’ve never wanted to break his legs more than I do right now.

Her eyes roll to me. The tears mix with the drool spilling from her lips. The noise is toxic. Grating. I’m going to hit Steele in the fucking balls.

“That was the last dick you’re ever going to touch that isn’t mine,” I inform her.

She accepted things into and out of her life with the sort of grace I never understood. Friends. Men. They took up space in our apartment and in our lives until one day she’d lose them. It was only a matter of time before she shook me loose, too.

I frown and shake my head. Then the first part registers. Steele went to get her? Steele offered? I didn’t think I’d have to knock his teeth in, but I will if I have to. Happily.

“I don’t have to fucking like you to own you. There’s no affection between us. You’re mine. Your mouth is mine. Your cunt is mine. Every fucking thought that runs through your head belongs to me.”

I feel strange, like I don’t fit inside my skin anymore. I’ve been stretched and snapped back into place, and everything is just… off.

Hope is this dangerous thing. It’s quiet and warm and it stays locked away until we feed it, and then it bursts into flame. It can consume us. It will very well eat me alive.

I stew over what the hell a sleepover entails. Like… a slumber party? As if we’re still in high school. I poke my head into the hall. “Are we actually spending the night?” Willow laughs. “Yes, you dork. We’re going to drink martinis and do our nails and talk shit about Paris and her cronies.” Okay, you know what? I can get behind that.

“In my dreams and your fantasies, I think. It’s okay, baby. You can be just as twisted as I am, and I won’t judge you for it.”

Well, I fucking got my hands bloody. Like Violet wanted. Violet… more like Violent. Who knew under such an angelic face lived a monster as sadistic as me?

She extends her hand, fingers uncurling to reveal an innocuous white pill. “Molly,” she says. “Violet.”

“You’re a good-looking couple.” I step forward and pat Paris’ cheek. “I know what his cock tastes like. I know you do, too. Obviously. But I’m just saying… I think he likes my mouth better.”

What he doesn’t know is that he’s been digging his grave in my chest for weeks, and me in his. We’re going to trade one day. My heart for his. An even exchange.

Greyson. I’ll suck the anger clean out of his body, because I think he can live without it—while I need it to keep going.

She makes a noise, but I shush her. “Ignore my hard-on. It’ll go away.”

The imagery is satisfying, if a bit violent. Like her.

“My dance teacher used to spank us when we messed up.” Her face gets even redder, and she averts her eyes. I quirk my lips. “Naked?” “No!” “Sexually?” “Greyson.” “Grey,” I automatically correct. She narrows her eyes. I shrug, going for nonchalance. “Violet and Grey? Makes sense to me.”

He wanted to take what’s mine. He wanted to hurt her in the worst way he could think of. He wanted to steal and take and destroy her. But she has a meaner, scarier, crazier stalker. Me. And I’ll protect her with every breath in my body.

I want to tie him to the cinder blocks in the bed of my truck and shove him over the side of the cliff. I can’t do that. Murder is a bit too far, even for me.

For a perfect moment, we’re all frozen. And then I slam it down on his knee.

The more I ignore Greyson, the more angry he becomes. Maybe not angry, but more like a toddler throwing a tantrum. A toddler holding a grenade, but still.

“Don’t give me your excuses. You’re going to get up and come with me. You’re going to sit next to me, and you’re going to fix your expression so you don’t look so shell-shocked.” “I am shell-shocked,” I say against his thumb. “I don’t want anything to do with you.” He laughs. It’s low and throaty and it does something to me. It’s been a long month. “You know what, Violet?” He leans even closer. “I don’t fucking believe you.” I don’t answer. Can’t. I hardly believe myself.

“You. Don’t. Leave. Me.” I hope my eyes translate my thoughts. Get fucked, Greyson.

“Even if you hadn’t come along, as you said…” He gets even closer. “Even then, we were destined to find each other.”

“You focus on playing well for Crown Point University, son, because the real world will kick you in the nutsac if you’re not ready for it.” Great imagery.

“When I break you, it won’t be your leg. Or your ribs. Or your vocal cords. It’s your mind I’m after, Violet. Your mind and your soul, because that black heart that beats behind your ribcage? That already belongs to me.”

“I’m fucking telling you, Vi. It’s you and me. Only us. I’m not letting anyone or anything come between us again. You can count on that.” “Only us,” I repeat, clutching him tighter. “Okay.”

“I’ve realized something,” he says in my hair. “Please, do share.” “We’re on the same side.” Oh. Oh.

I go back into his room and find my bag on his desk. He tossed it there haphazardly last night, not bothered when it knocked everything askew. I rummage through it for the first time. My pointe shoes are there, the ribbons carefully wrapped so they don’t get tangled. I certainly didn’t do it, and a warm, gooey feeling swims through me. Who are we? We should be enemies. We were, until he decided that we weren’t.

“Am I possessive?” He ducks forward and kisses my throat. “Am I not going to let anything—or anyone—come between us?” His teeth graze my skin, followed by his tongue. “Am I serious?” I tilt my head, giving him more access. “Any of those.” “The answer is yes.” He runs his nose up my throat. “To all of the above.”

I snort. “Of course I’m dating a psychopath.” He goes still. Hell, I go still. Open mouth, insert foot. “We, um, I didn’t mean⁠—” “Dating is a bit casual,” he finally says. “Casual? Dating is a big step.” My muscles automatically clench around his cock, still buried inside me. He smirks. “Let’s see… You’re never getting away from me. What do we call that? Certainly not dating.”

“I think I’m addicted to you.” I slick the water out of my eyes and rotate, rinsing away the soap. “Here’s a secret.” He winds his arms around me, pulling me against his chest. “I’m addicted to you, too.”

“That was almost immediately after…” I exhale. “That incident.” She narrows her eyes. “Remind me which incident? There seems to be many.” “Greyson had her blow me,” Steele says from behind her. She whirls around, then makes a face at me. “It was hot,” Steele says. I glare at him until he raises his hands in surrender. “And never to be repeated,” he hastily adds. “I’ll leave you girls to it…”

“And you broke his knee?” He sneers. “He got off easy.” “After hearing that? Yeah, he did.” He steals a kiss from my lips. It’s quick, there and then gone, but his smile is back. “See? You’re as bloodthirsty as me. Another reason why I love you.” I freeze. “Love?” I choke out. He grimaces. “Not romantic enough? Fine. I’ll tell you in other ways… tonight. After my hat trick.” He puts his lips next to my ear. “I’m looking forward to seeing you naked on our kitchen table.”

I pause in front of the bodyguard. I glance at Greyson. “He has my phone.” Grey’s expression darkens. The guy lifts his hand to his breast pocket, retrieving my phone and holding it out to me. As soon as it’s in my grip, I take a step back. Grey has other ideas. He lunges at him and snaps his fist forward. His knuckles smash into the guy’s face, skating across his cheekbone and nose. The guard stumbles backward, covering his face, but Greyson follows him. He fists the front of his shirt and shoves him into the wall. “Don’t you ever fucking lay a hand on her,” he says in the bodyguard’s face.

“Kiss me, would you?” He chuckles. “I will. But I’m too busy imagining all of the demons that live under your skin, and how I’m going to make every single one of their dreams come true. You’re just as twisted as I am. Excuse me for taking a minute to compose myself… or else I’ll rip your clothes off right here and show you how much I appreciate that sentiment.”

He wants to unchain my demons? I want to climb inside his skin and stay there forever.

Well, fuck me sideways.

“You’re my favorite person on this planet, Violet Reece.” My confession meets her pulse point. “And we’re going to wake up next to each other for the rest of our fucking lives.”

Kisses me again, even after everything that once ran rampant between us. Violet Reece is totally in love with me.

“Oh, and Violet? If you tell anyone what happened, I’m going to gut your senator’s son boyfriend and paint your skin with his blood. Okay?” It’s the last thing I hear.

“This isn’t helping.” “You’re the obsessive one,” she argues. “Don’t you have some way of finding her? You’re psychotic enough to plant a tracker under her skin. Didn’t think of that, did you?” Well, there’s a fucking thought. An idea I should’ve had already.

“I figure you might strike back again. With this new information. And… I want to be there. Will you let me?” “You’re asking to come along with me?” The corner of his lips turn up. “You want to watch me break his other leg, Violent? Or maybe you want to break it yourself?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. He presses his lips to mine.

“We’re connected, you and I. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.” I nod. “If Mia Germain ever gets out, I’m going to kill her.” He catches my lips again, nipping me before retreating again. “That’s a fucking promise.” “I believe you.”

“Violet Reece, will you marry me?” He tilts his head. “This is the only time I’ll make it a question, love.”