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He lifts his finger and begins writing something in his blood across the top of my stomach. I startle beneath his touch, no matter how soft.

“Fucking beautiful.”

He takes the knife and hovers it above the artwork he left on me. His blood stains my skin. I shake my head no, fucking panicking.This is it. You’re going to die. He never cared about you. He’s just a serial killer. You don’t matter.

I scream and cry beneath the gag. Begging him to let me go.

“Are you scared of me?”

I nod my head quickly. Hoping this was his sick way of making me fear him. It fucking worked.

“Good.”

The sharp burn erupts on my skin as he drags the knife across it. I feel liquid dripping down into my stomach. The lump in my throat becomes unbearable as I choke between sobs.

He moves slowly, letting the burn linger.You wanted a thrill. This is it. You aren’t dead.

The unwanted thoughts filter into my brain. I don’t want it. This isn’t what I wanted.But it is. You like him. You wanted to be his violent obsession.

His eyes are laser-focused as he marks my skin. I scream as he tortures me. My flesh is raw and mutilated.

He lifts the knife, and the blood that coats it runs down the metal. He licks the knife, staring into my bloodshot eyes.

“You taste so fucking sweet when you’re mine.”

He leans forward, and I tense. He places a delicate kiss on my forehead, which is covered in sweat.

“You did so well, princess.”

My body shudders at his words. Warmth fills my center.He’s proud of you. He wants you.

The adrenaline coursing through my veins has my body buzzing. I need to get away.

The heat of his body leaves mine, and his footsteps fade away.

I glance down at my stomach, daring to see what he has done to me. My abdomen is covered in crimson trails, and just under my breasts, I know what was written.

Dante

My body is stained in sin, forever marked— by the Devil himself.

22

D & E

Dante

The office door slams shut behind me. I rush over to the wall and slam my fists into it repeatedly. My knuckles aching and bloodied— but I don’t stop. I can’t fucking stop.

I almost lost control. I nearly killed her. I wanted to sink my knife into her delicate throat and watch her beg me to stop. I wanted to ruin her—to kill her. Then no one else could ever have her.

Then she looked at me with those haunting eyes. The flame inside me sparked to life—the flame that started my obsession. She infiltrates my mind. She’s fucking addicting.

I don’t feel bad that I carved my name into her perfect flesh. I needed her to have a permanent reminder of who the fuck she belongs to. Now she can never forget.

I started lightly, but I got carried away. The way her legs clenched together as I brought her pain. She fucking loved it. I didn’t cut her deep enough to cause any real damage. Just enough that the scar will never fucking fade.

I press my forehead into the cool cement wall and clench my fists. What the fuck has she done to me?