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Dante

I wanted to follow her.

I wanted to break down the bathroom door and take her there and then. I wanted to fuck her into taking back the words she had just said.

But I was so fucking angry with her, I was genuinely scared I might hurt her.

Hearing those words on her lips had cut me deeper than I thought.

You can’t stand that I don’t want you back.

They were designed to hurt, and despite my best intentions, she had won.

And that pissed me off.

I knew it wasn’t true. I had her respond to my touch numerous times now. I could smell her arousal every time I was within two feet of her. She was gagging for it, even if she didn’t want to be. But she had shot low, and it worked.

She was vicious with her tongue. It was her greatest weapon, and she knew how to wield it for maximum damage.

I hated that she had that power over me, and I fucking hated her.

At that moment, I hated her so much. I wanted to smash her head off the tiled bathroom floor and dig around in her brain until I found the fucking issue with her. I wanted to rearrange everything inside her until it worked and responded exactly how I wanted it to.

I wanted her to want me, so I could shoot her down and hurt her as she had hurt me.

But I knew I couldn’t do that.

Because I wanted her so badly, it was becoming a physical ache inside me.

I couldn’t stand to be near her. She made me irrationally angry, and yet I couldn’t bear to stay away.

I roared away from my thoughts, punching at the door, putting my fist straight through the wood. I kicked at it, unleashing all my anger.

But it wasn’t enough.

I didn’t dare look at Noob.

I stormed down the hallway, ripping off the mask as I did so, and pounded on my father’s bedroom door.

“Deal with it,” I barked as soon as he answered, pointing in the direction of Rachel’s room.

“Take Noob so far away from my fucking line of vision before I slice him open and mail his insides to his mother.”

“What about the patch?” He asked me. “We can’t take his patch without taking it to the table. You know that, Dante.”

“I couldn’t give a flying fuck about the table—”

“You watch your tongue, boy. You know the rules of the club.”

I sighed heavily. “Leave him with his cut. We’ll talk about it at church next time. If the vote is unanimous, I’ll send Vienna to go retrieve it.”

My dad simply nodded and pulled out his phone, knowing he’d need assistance with this one.

My mother came out of the room and her lips thinned at the scene before her, but she knew better. Especially after the earlier telling off my dad had given her. One look from me had her mouth clamping shut.

I went to my room, slamming the door behind me and sat on the edge of my bed, my head in my hands as I digested what the fuck had just happened.

I waited long, long minutes for the anger to leave my body, not trusting myself to do anything other than breathe until then.

What was it about Rachel that invoked such a visceral reaction from me?

What was it about her that was so different to all the other women that all logic and reason went out of the window, leaving no room for anything than all-consuming jealousy?

I wanted to lock her away so no one could ever look at her body again, clothed or otherwise. And yet I wanted her on my arm, so everyone knew she was mine.

I hated her so much. I wanted nothing more than her head on a stick, and yet I couldn’t stop thinking about her, about how our life could be. Or could have been. I’d fucked it now.

I had kidnapped her, tied her up, hit her, teased her, toyed with her, fucked her, burnt her mother’s house down, and beaten a man close to death in front of her.

It was no wonder a flicker of fear had been in her eyes this time.

I didn’t even know her fucking last name. I knew nothing about her.

It didn’t make any sense. I shouldn’t be this obsessed. But her soul called to my own. They were locked together in this lifetime and the next. I knew it. I could feel it with every breath I took.

“Fuck,” I roared, swiping at the lamp and knocked it to the floor. I took another deep breath, letting go of the anger and laid back on the bed, only to shoot up again as my head hit something uncomfortable. I reached behind me, and the anger was back.

Had the psychotic bitch actually left her dildo on my pillow? The dildo she had used to pleasure herself with whilst thinking about another man. I reached over the bed and flicked on the other lamp and saw the bedsheet, the wet patch strategically placed so it was on full display.

My animal instincts kicked in, roaring at me to go and claim what was mine once and for all. And this time, there was no stopping it.