Her emerald eyes widen in shock as I press into her flesh and drag the blade along her collarbone, making a slight cut, keeping eye contact with her the whole time. A trickle of blood glides down her supple skin falling towards her perfectly round tits. “I’m not someone you want to mess with because, with me, you’ll never know what you’ll end up getting. You’re mine, Em. You can either accept that willingly, or I will force you to. The choice is yours, but the outcome is the same, regardless. I’m never letting you go.”
“You’re fuckin’ crazy, you know that, Stone? You’re fuckin’ insane.”
“I am, and it makes you wet.”
“It does not make me wet to be cut up by a fuckin’ psycho.”
I cup her pussy, rubbing her through her jeans. “You want me to rip these off and show you how much your cunt is gushing?”
She turns her face from me, but she can’t hide the blush creeping up her skin. “When did you get so crazy?”
“The moment I fell in love with you.”
“You think you love me? You fuckin’ turned me away. I came by to see you for an entire year. Day after day, I showed up at the psych ward and waited, hoping you’d talk to me. But you never came. You ripped my world apart and then left me alone to manoeuvre it all without you.”
Her words are like daggers slicing pieces of my heart in slow, methodical movements. Knives twisting in open wounds, making sure scabs never heal. I’m aware of what I did and why I did it. I thought I was saving her from me. Back then, I was still lying about who I was, pretending I was some noble knight, but I know who I am now and that Emily belongs to me, always has, and always will.
My fingers twirl a strand of her wild red curls. “I used to dream in red.”
“What?”
“Your hair. I used to have these vivid dreams about the shade. I would feel a sense of peace picturing it. For a while, I would have cut off a limb to see it blowing in the wind again.”
“What about now? Would you cut off a limb now?”
“Now, I’d cut out my heart. Therefore, when I tell you I’d kill you, a part of me means it. I’m not the same kid you knew, Em. Living without you was the worst kind of hell. I’m not willing to do it again. Don’t fuck with me. No matter how far you go, I’ll always chase you. You can keep running, and I’ll keep chasing. You’ll never get rid of me.” My fingers dig into the flesh of her jaw as my eyes keep her gaze. “I’m a junkie, Em, and you’re the hit. I need you to stay straight.”
I crush my lips to hers. The kiss isn’t soft; it isn’t loving. It’s full of the ocean of pain and violence stretched between us. It’s an all-consuming kiss that possesses and ignites. My desperate need to show her she’s all that matters, all that will ever matter. If there is such a thing as soulmates, then Emily is mine. She is the light to my darkness, the joy to my sorrow, and the life to my death.
She whimpers against my lips. “What if I don’t want this?”
“If that were true, you wouldn’t have kissed me like your life depended on it.”
“Doesn’t it, though? Isn’t me giving into your obsession what's keeping me alive?”
“No, my love for you is why you’re still breathing.”
Chapter Six
EMILY
Fear and lust are a combustible combination. That’s what it’s like with Stone. Always has been. But the thing about Stone is, underneath all the hate, anger, and violence, there’s still the boy who was always there for me. We had a complicated, entangled history that tethered us to each other. But now, this man, he isn’t the same. His love for me isn’t the pure love it once was; it’s now a sick, twisted obsession that seems to have taken over, driving him into the depths of terror.
My fingers trace the shallow cut on my collarbone as I remember the warning in his eyes. I believe him when he says he might not kill me but he’ll break me. The thing about obsession is that it causes people to be irrational. To Stone, I’m his toy, and he’d rather break me than allow another to have me. He’ll create a prison and lock me away so he can say he possesses me.
His hand remains on my thigh for the remainder of the drive, his fingers digging into my flesh every few seconds as if he is trying to reassure himself that I’m real and there with him. He used to do the same thing whenever it got too much as kids. We’d sit in silence, and he’d just hold onto me and squeeze like I was the only thing keeping him there.