Page 19 of Broken Obsession

Damn it.

He—

The power cut out.

Eden blinked, desperately trying to adjust to the sudden darkness, and spun on his heels so he was facing the doorway. It took him longer than it should have to process that the shadowy figure blocking his path wasn’t a trick of the light, or lack thereof. By the time he reacted, swinging the bat, it was too late.

He ended up hitting the doorframe, the force rattling down his arms.

The shadowy figure stepped back, and Eden followed, swinging a second time. A hand caught the end of it, pulling down and to the side, using Eden’s momentum against him so that he stumbled out of the bathroom and slammed into the wall of the short hallway.

The figure chuckled, a low, charged sound that Eden felt all the way down to his toes. He’d gotten the bat off him in the struggle, but instead of wielding it, he tossed it off to the side. The weapon disappeared into the dark living room, the sound of the metal rolling against the wooden floorboards echoing loudly in the small space.

“Try again,” the figure ordered, and not wanting to think too hard on why, Eden obeyed.

He shot forward, pushing off the wall. His leg connected with the figure’s side, and then he threw a fist, knuckles crushing against the figure’s jaw, connecting with plastic. Eden had been a boxer in high school and had picked it back up again after the death of his family, but his movements were limited in the dark, and he kept crashing into pieces of furniture.

It wasn’t until he practically tumbled over the arm of the couch that he realized whoever had broken in must have moved things around. To do that so quickly and so quietly…

“What do you want?” He regained his footing, took a punch to the face himself, and then kneed the figure in the stomach. Another hit sent him to the ground, and something sharp bit into his palm and the side of his thigh. They must have broken one of the picture frames on the end tables.

Whoever this was had planned it.

Eden slowly rose to his feet, smearing blood across his face when he pushed strands of blond hair off his forehead. His vision had started to adjust, and he could make out the figure now, standing between him and the door to his bedroom.

“Lucifer?” He recognized the shape of the man now, the familiar outline of him and the cyberpunk mask, though the neon lights were off. This was the same guy he’d seen shoot Galen in the back, and yet it wasn’t fear that raced through Eden’s body at the sight of him.

He took a step forward, tripped over an object on the ground, and fell all over again, this time landing in front of the masked stranger.

A hand shot down, gripping his arm tightly, hauling him back up. Eden was twisted on his heels and shoved, bumping into the edge of his bed and crashing onto it. A heavy body was on top of him quicker than he could blink, pinning him to the mattress, capturing his legs beneath a muscular form.

Eden clawed and tried to get in another punch, but his wrists were caught and held down over his head. He bucked beneath his assailant, instincts urging him to keep fighting, panic building in his chest for what might come next.

Panic, and something twisted.

Anticipation.

He wasn’t small by any means, but the figure held him down like it was nothing, barely grunting when Eden headbutted him as a last-ditch attempt.

All it got him was a flash of blinding white light and an instant migraine.

“Game.” A gust of hot breath fanned against the side of Eden’s face, lips dropping to ghost against the curve of his left ear. “Set.” A tongue flicked out, the wet tip licking his earlobe as if testing the taste of him out. “Match.”

The voice was difficult to place through the ringing in his head, though the words were clear enough for him to follow.

But it was the smell that finally shocked him into stilling.

Spicy and woody, with a hint of citrus.

He could have sworn this was Lucifer, but now…

“A-Ares?” There was no way. He’d hit his head and lost it, because there was no way the new shareholder had broken into his house and attacked him for no good reason—or for any reason, for that matter. “Ares Major?” That would be—

“Ding, ding. I guess this means you get an extra point in the next round.” The voice was unmistakable now. The lilt, the softness…A sharp juxtaposition to every other part of the man, if his body was any indicator.

Ares Major was lying on top of him.

“Get off of me.” Eden was shaking, but he couldn’t tell if it was from rage, fear, or lingering lust. “Get off, you psycho!”