Page 20 of The Art of Obsession

Before I can react, a rope slips around my throat—rough, firm, unyielding. Not choking me, but tight enough to pin me against the headrest. My breath catches, my pulse a frantic drumbeat in my ears.

I freeze.

I feel him before I see him—his presence thick and suffocating, a shadow folding around me. His heated breathagainst my cheek. Leaning in close, he lowers his voice to a guttural growl against my ear.

“Look what you made me do, Little Quill.”

The words carve through me like a blade.

I don’t scream. I don’t move. I’m paralyzed as Acheron lingers—close enough that I can feel the heat of him, smell the smoke and leather drifting from him.

Oh, God! Jake is dead.

And I’m more damned than ever. Because all I can think about, all I can feel is the man behind me.

“Acheron.”

8

I am the mask. She is my muse

Chapter Playlist:

“Black Out Days” – Phantogram

ACHERON

She whispersmy name like a prayer in the cold, stillness of her car.

I hear her breath catch, a tremor in her chest, and I can feel it, the way she tries to pull away, the way she tries to flee from the truth. But she can’t. She never could.

The rope is tight around her throat, not enough to choke, but enough to hold her in place, to remind her of my control.

I’m harder than a fucking rock. She will pay for her betrayal tonight.

I lean in, my lips brushing the shell of her ear, my voice low and heavy with the gravity of the truth she’s been denying. “You think you can escape me by pretending I don’t exist?” I murmur, my words like a slow poison. “Denying me, Little Quill? That’s a sin in itself. You’ve been lying to yourself, and that lie is as much of an offense as destroying my art.”

She shudders beneath me, and I feel her pulse racing. She’s trying to fight it, trying to push me out of her mind, dissociating, but I hear her. I hear the way she moans when she sleeps, the way “Acheron” slips from her lips in the dark until she wakes with sweat clinging to her frame, her nipples pebbled and needy for my mouth, and wetness soaking her underwear.

“I hear you at night,” I continue, my voice a dark growl. “Whispering my name. You think you can hide from me, but I’m in your blood.”

Her eyes are wide, her lips parted in shock, but there’s something else there too—something deeper, something darker. It’s the recognition. She can’t outrun this. Not anymore.

I press the rope tighter, just enough to remind her of my power. “After tonight, you’ll never be able to run from me, hide, or deny me again.”

She gasps, a soft, helpless sound. She’s trying to breathe, but the weight of my presence presses down on her.

“I’m inside you now, Little Quill. In every dream you have, in every breath, I’m there. Your nightmare. You’ve known it all along.”

Her body stiffens, but I don’t let her move.

“Tonight, you betrayed me,” I whisper, my lips brushing her ear once more. “And now, there’s no turning back.”

“You didn’t have to?—”

I twist the rope, thrilling in the tears streaming down her cheeks. “I believe I’ve established your place in my life now, haven’t I, Everleigh Lennox? Did you believe I would allow any other man to touch you or replace my image in your mind?”

“He was a good guy!” she cries hoarsely, swallows hard, then struggles with the rope. “I wouldn’t have—I wasn’t going to—you’re a goddamn monster!”