Page 36 of King of Obsession (Kings of the Underworld #1)

As she squirms beneath me, her body arches up.

Her core grinds against my cock that gets instantly hard—not caring at all that she betrayed me.

She’s not even doing it on purpose. Luciana just wants to free herself.

It’s impossible. I fucking love to assert my dominance, showing her the irrefutable fact that she can’t escape me.

She huffs, but calms down. I force myself off her, pushing the small key to her collar into my pocket.

Inhaling deeply, anger and desire tear me in two different directions—ripping me apart.

When I get myself under control, I stare back at her. She lies perfectly still, eyeing me intently.

“Don’t move,” I command, my voice betraying my frayed control.

Approaching her, she doesn’t even flinch, remaining perfectly still. So sure I will not hurt her when around her neck is the proof I would. Knowing her, she won’t withstand temptation. It’s in her nature to taunt and tantalize me.

I only need to press my thumb and forefinger together to send a current shocking her. I will inflict pain on her—that is an undeniable fact. Sooner rather than later, she’ll warrant the punishment. Her life lies at the tip of my fingers, literally.

I pluck the other key from my left pocket and go to her side.

The cuffs around her ankles unlock, and she lets out a small sound of satisfaction. I move to her wrists next. Those silver eyes of hers—precious like platinum and lethal as a bullet—analyze my every move.

I won’t let my brain give me more hell for giving in so quickly.

This is the compromise I came up with. In our world, freedom is a loose term.

We are bound by different principles. I have one code.

Do not betray me or death will await you.

I am not making an exception for her. I just want to snub any remaining feelings for her and then I’ll do it.

When my broken heart has had enough, she’ll die.

I unlock her wrists, and she pulls her hands to her chest, rubbing at them gently.

Plucking the small tube of ointment from my back pocket, I throw it at her side. That will help soothe the angry red lines marring her skin.

As she applies the soothing gel, she glances at me, not hiding her smile.

Fuck you, weakness.

“Now what?” she asks, as if she has a modicum of a say.

I’ll show her she lost that privilege. She was the exception in my life, but I won’t make the same mistake twice.

“Now, you’ll serve. Me.”

She has the audacity to roll her eyes as her finger grazes along the collar, the symbolism not lost on either of us. A single diamond for her to see her one singular mistake—the kill she made, but whatever it was, divine intervention or some other shit, she failed.

“As what?”

“As whatever I want,” I say, my voice cold and harsh.

There’s no room for negotiations. In her case, just like with the city I rule, I am the judge and the executioner.

She tugs at the collar, but she won’t break it, and a smile curls the corners of my mouth. Her curiosity brought her to fall.

“I am not your fucking pet,” she says, brushing a wayward strand of hair off her face and gathers it all in a low ponytail at her back. She’s unwashed, unkempt, with blood caked on her left side, yet she is still beautiful.

“Getting in my bed is a fucking privilege. One you lost as well.”

She lets out a sound that rings of fake indignation.

For a theatrical effect, she pats her chest as if she’s hurt.

“I bet your cock disagrees. I bet you still think of me when you lie in bed, wanting me there. We could never lie to each other, Enzo. This stupid connection won’t disappear, regardless of what either of us does. ”

The vein in my neck throbs, threatening to burst at her audacity. “It saved your life once, but it won’t happen again.”

She rolls her eyes at me. “Sure. Tell yourself that. I will allow you to continue believing your delusion.”

I have her trapped with no way of escaping and she gives me attitude—her self-preservation instinct is nonexistent.

Lifting my hand in front of her, she tilts her head, eyeing my movement. I snap my fingers, pressing down. Instantly, she bends over, recoiling with the jolt of electricity that goes through her, rocking her for a few seconds, before I part them.

“Don’t test me. Or do. Let’s see who wins in the end.”

Her chest heaves and she licks her lips, her body convulsing two more times before she stops.

Slowly, she stands up and gets in my face. She is so stupidly brave.

I press my fingers together again, my jaw clamping hard. The part of me who yearns to give her all my love at war with my need for vengeance. Testing me won’t end well for her.

She drops to her knees, gripping the edge of my pants. She fists it as if it’s an anchor before she looks up at me.

“One of us will break. I have a high pain tolerance. I’ve been in pain all my fucking life, Enzo. This is all I’ve known.”

“Stop.” But it’s me who stops after the third one, witnessing the first tears gathering in her eyes. I’ve tested it on myself and three times in a row has you wanting to shed your skin.

“Stand up,” I order and rake a hand through my hair, not to be tempted to do it again and again until she apologizes.

Until she looks me in the eye and says how stupid I was for believing her lie, for making a fool out of me.

I want her to be proud of her deeds so I can spare us both and end her.

One of us was always destined to die at the hand of the other.

She rises carefully and without her heels, she doesn’t even reach my chin. Yet, she’s fucking deadly. But without a gun, I could easily overpower her.

“Does this make you happy?” she asks, her silver eyes demanding my entire attention, along with pieces of my soul.

I don’t even know what she’s talking about, focused on watching her face, taking my fill until it’s fucking enough to replenish my empty soul.

She grabs my hand and presses my thumb and forefinger together. With the other, she holds onto my arm, never breaking eye contact. I can see her sorrow and pain as her body trembles through the shock.

I underestimated her power, and it takes me a moment to break out of her grip.

“I am the one punishing you. Don’t you ever do that again or you’ll regret it. Now move,” I spit.

“Tone down those orders. It makes me want to shove them down your throat,” she spits right back.

It takes everything in me not to shake my head at her and show her the hint of a smile I am hiding behind a groan.

“You really want to die?” I ask, my chest tightening at the thought.

“I have no reason to live anymore.”

Her words go straight to my heart, wreaking havoc.

Curling my hand around her throat, I back her up to the opposite wall, holding her there, trapped between two hard surfaces. “Your reason is to serve me. Got it?”

She offers me a small smile. “I won’t serve anyone else, Enzo. Kill me now because if that’s your end goal, you’ll be disappointed. I have nothing else to lose. That’s why I am indulging your little game.”

“My little game?”

My grip on her neck is not too hard. She’s able to rise on her toes and whisper in my ear, “Many enemies were after me, yet you got me. You made a deal with the Syndicate, knowing that my best chance to stay alive was to come here. You want my life but not my death, and we both know it.”

“You overestimate my patience with you,” I grumble to hide the deafening gallop of my heart.

“And you underestimate how well I know you.”

She stalks out of the small cell and waits for me in front of the door, as if knowing I need a few moments to compose myself.

I don’t let her out of my sight as I open the door and watch her taking the stairs up.

Opening the door, she comes to an abrupt stop, shielding her face at the blinding sun until her eyes adjust. She takes in the compound stretching for as far as she can see.

I hope she thinks of a way to escape so I can punish her and make sure there are no loose ends that my enemies could use to get in.

My men take furtive glances as they continue to patrol undisturbed.

Now what am I going to do with her? My insanity will only increase if I let her out of my sight.

“Move,” I say, and she reluctantly walks toward the golf cart.

Goddamn it. I had months to plan her return, yet I couldn’t come up with a plan for her once she’d be here.

A headache pounds behind my eyes, ready to split my fucking skull in two.

Sulking and thinking of what to fucking do, I drive toward the house built in her absence.

Once I stop, I catch her staring at it from the corner of my eye.

This is your brilliant plan. Punish her by welcoming her in your house?

“It’s beautiful,” she whispers.

Of course it fucking is. While money won’t buy happiness, I’ve always liked aesthetically pleasant stuff. I don’t skimp when it comes to quality.

I type a message to Lorenzo, needing her out of my sight for now.

Just then I see Kill pawing at the glass door.

“What is that?” her voice trembles.

I can’t believe she’s terrified of my dog who appears as if he’ll tear out your jugular but loves to cuddle and lick your face. Maybe my dog is broken. I blame my sister for that. She made him soft. I don’t have the heart to train him into becoming a killer.

I am sure in a worst-case scenario, I’ll be the one to defend Kill and not the other way around. That doesn’t mean I can’t have a bit of fun with Luciana.

Moving to my side, she grips my arm tightly, her nails breaking the skin.

“Don’t let him out,” she says in an almost inaudible voice. Her face scrunches up with panic as she watches my dog, who continues wiggling his body, curious about her.

Please don’t embarrass me, knowing full well he’ll do fucking anything for the promise of some treats and pats.

I tear my arm away and she stays still, petrified in her fear. If she could see past that, she would realize that he’s harmless.

“Come on, Luciana, your guards had dogs.”

“I knew exactly when they made their rounds, and they were always leashed and kept their distance. It’s not like I could reveal that I am terrified of dogs.”

Opening the door, I give Kill the command to sit, to appear that I am in control of him. He knows some commands, hand picking those to follow depending on if he likes them or not.

I scratch behind his ears, and Luciana stabs me with her eyes as if I committed the biggest betrayal.

One more second and the tension between us will catch fire. Neither of us backs down. I am about to show her again who’s in the position of power when my head of security finally appears.

“Take her with you,” I say, and I am about to turn around when Lorenzo clears his throat.

“Train her as a foot soldier,” I add, walking inside my home, but not before hearing her gasp of outrage and she mumbles, “I’ll show you foot soldier.”

Striding straight to the bar, I pour myself a glass of whiskey and down it in one go before Kill nuzzles me in the leg, letting me know it’s dinnertime. I swear, he eats more than I do.

Moving into the kitchen, I scoop his dinner—a high-quality kibble for large puppies—and put it in his bowl before I drop on the couch, listening to some classical music.

She’s here. Now what? I know damn well that I can’t kill her. Not because of a sense of duty towards her, but because of who she fucking is. I am committing the biggest treason by treating her the way I do.

Luciana was born to be my fucking equal. I wish I’d never investigated her birth and stopped when the smallest thing pointed at who she could be. When I got the confirmation, I hated it.

Throwing my head back, I close my eyes when there’s movement at my door.

Two people in my life wouldn’t even bother to announce their visit, my sister and Mika. It’s the latter.

“I see it’s going well,” he says as he spots the empty glass in my hand.

“Fuck off.”

“I won’t say what we both know.”

“Thank you. You’re too generous,” I grumble.

He chuckles and jams his feet against mine. “We have things to do.”

Right, the promise of screams and blood. I won’t hear hers, but at least I can entertain myself with others.

As I drive away in my car, the compound gets smaller and smaller in my rearview mirror. I should have told my men that she’s untouchable, but I am more afraid for them. She has to earn their respect. At some point, they will serve her as well.

When we reach our destination, the warehouse on the outskirts of town, ten bikers wait for us. They hang from metallic hooks, their feet suspended above the ground to increase the discomfort. They swing, trying to regain their footing.

There will always be those who try breaking into our territories. People are forgetful like that and desperate enough to come after what we’ve built. Our kingdom is ripe to pluck the fruits, not caring that we made it into that.

And with thoughts of her invading my brain, I roll my sleeves to the elbow, then move toward the metal table where various torture devices are laid out.

The bikers remain silent but spit and glare at us as if daring me to do my worst.

I chuckle, loving a good challenge. They will cry and piss themselves as they bleed to death until nothing, but hacked limbs remain of them before the acid eats their remnants, eliminating any trace that they were ever alive.

I jerk my chin to one of our men. He knows what he has to do. He frees the prey and locks us inside with them. I pick a machete, and Mika chooses his spiked steel baton.

They look at each other, not understanding what’s happening before coming at us.

Running around as we chase them, we engage in a deadly hunt.

Between me and Mika, the ten men fall one after the other.

The sounds of cracked skulls and bones echoes in the empty warehouse as blood coats the floor into a grotesque image of carnage.

This violent outlet should appease me, giving me some peace of mind for the next few months.

It’s a bloody endeavor not only gaining the power, but staying on top.

You’re either cut out for this life or you’re not.

I have embraced the monster in me, knowing I am a sinner who will never be able to atone for his sins.

This world is ours and as I watch the blood painting the floor and hear the screams fill my ears, I realize I don’t even want to stop. I am who I am, take what I want, do whatever I want.

I might not be immortal, but I am untouchable.

By the time Mika and I are done, I don’t wash the blood from me.

We own the police. We have people in all the right places. What better advertising and warning not to cross me than to see me in all my monstrous glory.

Driving back home, I am painstakingly aware that when it comes to Luciana, I am more bark than bite.