บททั้งหมดของ HIS POISONOUS POSSESSION: บทที่ 81 - บทที่ 90

 "Look at me, Ivy," he rasped, pinning her wrists to the stone mantle, his body a searing weight that anchored her to the present. "I want you to feel the depth of this obsession. I want you to remember the way my hands feel when they own you, so that when you’re hiding, when you’re waiting for me to come for you, you don't forget who your Master is."The eroticism was dark, explicit, and laced with a terrifying finality. Every movement was a mark of possession. Dante moved within her with a slow, sadistic rhythm that was both a punishment and a prayer. He wanted to leave a permanent echo in her nervous system—a sensory brand that no "transfusion" could ever wash away."Is this... the cure?" Ivy sobbed, her head lolling back as the pleasure and the pain collided in a blinding white light. "Is this how you... save me?"

"Say it," he commanded, his rhythm slow, punishing, and absolute as he moved within her, his eyes never leaving hers. "Say you are my possession. Say I am the only master you recognize."Ivy’s body responded—the "Body Betrayal" was too deep to be erased in a night—but her eyes remained fixed and frozen. She arched under him, her breath hitching in a rhythmic, visceral surrender, but she didn't sob. She didn't plead."I am your possession, Dante," she whispered against his lips, her fingers digging into his back, drawing blood that smeared against the white sheets. "But a possession that owns its owner is a dangerous thing. Every time you take me, you give another piece of yourself away. How much is left, Dante? How much of the 'Moretti Monster' is left before there’s only a shell that lives for me?"

[The Chapel of Ash]The descent from the fortress was a journey through a frozen purgatory. The Alpine air was a physical blade, but inside the black SUV winding down the jagged cliffs, the heat was suffocating. Dante drove with a white-knuckled intensity, his gaze fixed on the road, yet his entire being was tuned to the woman sitting inches away from him.The "poison" in his blood had settled into a low, throbbing ache—a constant reminder of Ivy’s betrayal and her brilliance. He felt more than just the sedative; he felt the tether between them tightening, turning into a garrote.They reached the valley floor where the chapel stood—a lonely, stone sentinel of Gothic architecture, its spire piercing the bruised purple of the pre-dawn sky. This was the site of the St. Claire Vault."We’re here," Dante rasped, killing the engine. The silence that followed was deafening. He turned to Ivy, his eyes gold and predatory in the dim light of the dashboard. "Before we step into that grave, Ivy,

"I... I can't breathe, Dante," Ivy sobbed, her body arching in a rhythmic, absolute surrender that was both a plea and a prayer. "But I don't want to leave. I don't want anything... but this. If we burn, let us burn together. Don't let them have us. Just you. Only you."The "Body Betrayal" had reached its final, most tragic form. Ivy was no longer a victim of a design; she was a willing participant in a dark romance that had surpassed the need for survival. As Dante claimed her, his obsession reaching its peak, the vault seemed to shrink until there was only the heat of their skin and the terrifying beauty of their shared ruin.The timer on the wall clicked—three minutes. The smell of gasoline was now overwhelming, a heavy, sweet scent that promised a swift, white-hot end.Dante pulled back, his breathing ragged, his eyes searching Ivy’s face for any sign of regret. He saw only a reflection of his own madness. He picked up the silver dagger from the floor and held it out to her, handl

The sensuality was explicit and dark, a collision of two people who had been designed to destroy each other and decided instead to destroy the world. Dante used his power not just to pleasure her, but to remind her of her place—at the center of his obsession, the only jewel in his crown of thorns. He pushed her to the edge of sensation, demanding that she feel every agonizing second of his possession."You are the only legacy I have left," he panted, his eyes locked onto hers as he reached his peak. "And I will kill anyone who tries to take you. Even you, Ivy. If you ever try to leave again, I will bury us both under this chapel.""I’m not leaving," she whispered, her voice a hollow, beautiful echo. "I’m the ghost you resurrected. And ghosts don't have anywhere else to go."Hours later, they sat in the dim light of the vault, wrapped in Dante’s discarded coat. The gasoline had dissipated, leaving only the smell of old paper and the lingering scent of their passion. Dante held her from