Except our story reminds me nothing of Cinderella, or any other fairy tale.
God, what is this insanity, and obsession, that makes itself known whenever we are in each other’s presence?
Maybe it’s one of the variations of Stockholm Syndrome? Granted, Zachary is not my captor, but he is the man who ruined my life, yet in this new reality, the darkness I’m living in, he is the only one I can rely on.
Not because I choose to trust him, but because he pushed himself into my space, demanding that trust compared to Sebastian, who just gave up the minute I showed him the door.
This psychological term does explain a lot of factors I could apply to whatever we have right now. But is it the right way to handle it? Shoving the responsibility onto someone else’s shoulders, instead of owning up to my choices and the consequences they might have?
Desire is a weakness wrapped in all-consuming emotion with the power to rule your every single thought. And although you know you will burst into flames if you’re not careful enough, nothing in this world can stop you when it calls your name, demanding surrender and acceptance.
I feel a hot breath on my nape, the masculine scent twitching my nostrils. Heat surrounds me from every corner. My pulse speeds up, alert to the presence of the man who consumes my every thought and stirs nothing but internal conflict within me.
Because now the only thing swirling in my mind is the fact that I’ve managed to miss him in such a short amount of time. I exhale heavily, relieved he is finally here to protect me from whatever might come next.
Weak and selfish? Yes.
However, that’s my truth, and I think the time has come to own up to all my cravings. I’m going to hell anyway.
What is a little more time spent with the devil on this earth going to change?
He scoops my hair up, the light tug breaking goose bumps on my skin, and throws it over my shoulder before something cold touches my collarbone.
My eyes snap open to meet his in the mirror; his green ones have become almost molten with desire. A loud click echoes in the space as Zachary pulls at my hair again and lets it fall down my back.
And in this, my gaze lands on the brilliant emerald in the shape of a tear mounted on a platinum necklace encrusted with diamonds. It stand out on my neck yet oddly works harmoniously with the overall picture.
Gasping, I place my fingers on it and run them over the stone, my questioning look not going unnoticed by Zachary. “My woman can’t go out without wearing something outrageous,” he murmurs and wraps his hands around my waist, pulling me to him so that my back collides with his chest, his strong embrace almost chaining me to him. “And it matches the ring on your finger. I thought about earrings, but no one would have seen those with this fucking gorgeous hair of yours.” He breathes in its scent. “Your smell reminds me of the most fragrant of flowers that I can’t help but want to drown in it.”
His husky yet deep voice envelops me in a trance, blocking the outside world away, and when he runs his lips from my bare shoulder to my neck, leaving small kisses on his way, I shift my head to the side, giving him better access for a moment, focusing on nothing but the butterflies fluttering in my stomach.
“You are so beautiful. How can a man resist such a beauty?” His grip on my hips tightens, his fingers digging into my skin as his voice drops a few octaves. “Others can look, but no one is allowed to touch you. Do you understand?” The possessiveness lacing his tone and the flash of anger in his eyes snap me out of the haze he created around me, and with a gasp, I move to the side, wanting to escape him when realization of the situation settles in on me. “Especially Sebastian Hale.”
Unbelievable.
Putting my hands above his, I tug on them, trying to snatch them away from me, but they stay glued on me until I huff in frustration. “Stop this. Don’t act like—”
“Like who?” he asks, biting my neck and earning himself a groan from me. “Like a man who is obsessed with every breath you take?”
“Like you have rights to this body or me.”
His chuckles send chills down my spine, and he leans closer to my ear, biting on the earlobe before soothing it with a lick of his tongue. “I do. You. Are. Mine. Phoenix.” I jerk in his hold, but once again it’s useless. “Deny it or not, this is not just sex. If it weren’t for my past mistakes, you wouldn’t be resisting it so much.”
The words of denial are on the tip of my tongue, angry lashing-out words that would send us further into… whatever that dark place is.
However, the time has come to be a grownup and not a child who argues with anyone, because she thinks it’s the best decision. “I know,” I whisper, and he frowns, surprised with my admission, and this finally allows me to slip from his arm to turn around and face him. “I know, Zach. We have what people call a fatal attraction that knows no boundaries.” He opens his mouth to says something, but I place my fingers on it, shutting him up. “But do you really think it has the power to erase the past to a point where I would accept it? A few hours in the night is one thing; anything else would be a—” I don’t want to say it, yet he probably guesses it.
Betrayal to my daughter who his actions killed. Everyone else can shame me all they want for being with him; however, my own conscience is louder than anyone else. Moving on is a beautiful thing, but in some cases, it’s just impossible.
Repeating it to him and in my mind seems like a broken record, so I stay silent, drinking in his closeness as my body reacts to his covered in a black suit that emphasizes his toned muscles and goes well with his darkish look.
The bowtie on his neck makes me want to tear it away so I can open the V of his shirt, one of his sexiest features, and graze my fingers over the light coating of hair on it.
Because that’s all we can have, a fleeting moment in time where his touch makes me forget everything and find solace in his arms.
He palms my head gently, tipping it back, and he says with harshness in his tone, “After all of this is done, when we catch the person that turned our lives upside down, we’ll talk. And then you can tell me if it’s over or not.” My brows furrow at the odd edge in his gaze and tension in his body. “Promise me that once all of this is done, you’ll listen to me before you listen to your instincts.”
“What will my instincts say?” I ask, dread along with fear filling my bones as I can predict I won’t like anything he says, yet somehow, he thinks it will give this thing between us a chance?
Is there a more confusing man than Zachary King?
“I promise,” I say, since he doesn’t let me go, and he searches my face and must see the truth shining back at him, because he nods and places a soft kiss on my forehead.
“Let’s go, baby. It’s showtime.”
And with this, all thoughts of resisting him wash away, and I do something unexpected, hug him closer and burrow my face in his chest.
He doesn’t say anything, allowing me to soak in all his strength and confidence so I’ll be able to face all the people but mostly importantly the unsub.
The unsub who I hope with every fiber of my being will come tonight, so it can end once and for all.
James parks the car in front of a spacious mansion—or more like a castle, for it’s made out of the finest brick covered in various flowers that seem to grow within it since every possible crack is either filled with them.