All Chapters of Spellbound by Obsession: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

The rain fell over the city like a gray veil, washing the sidewalks but not the filth from my soul. I was hidden in a dark alley across from Lara’s parents’ house—they had taken her back, as if it were possible to simply put a demon back in the box from which it escaped.The hood of my jacket was pulled forward, my hands shoved in my pockets like an addict in withdrawal. I had been waiting for three hours. Three hours standing in the rain, watching the lit windows on the second floor where I knew she was. My phone vibrated again in my pocket—Sarah, for the seventeenth time today.I ignored it, as I had done with all the other calls. The only thing that mattered was behind that door.The front door opened and Lara emerged, wrapped in a black cape that seemed made of living shadows. She wasn’t alone. A young man—a college student—was with her, laughing at something she had said.A wave of possession so violent took hold of me that I almost screamed. My fingers clenched around the knife

The abandoned house on the edge of the city smelled of mold and ancient secrets. I had bought it in cash a week ago, using the last remnants of the savings Sarah and I had made for our retirement. Now, instead of dreams, it would shelter depravity.Lara lay on the iron bed I had brought to the main bedroom, her silver bracelets tinkling softly as she tested the handcuffs that bound her to the headboard.“Dramatic,” she commented, her voice echoing in the empty room. “I like it.”I watched her from the doorway, my hands trembling not with remorse, but with anticipation. She didn’t look afraid. She didn’t look surprised. She looked… Satisfied.“You avoided me for a week,” I said, my voice sounding deeper, more possessive than ever. “Thought you could play games with me and walk away unscathed?”She laughed, the sound spreading across the bare walls.“I wasn’t avoiding you, Dorian. I was teaching you a lesson.”I approached the bed, my soles creaking on the aging wooden floorboards.“A le

The moonlight entered through the cracks in the boards that covered the windows, painting stripes across my naked body. The metal handcuffs were cold against my wrists, but the sensation was already as familiar as the beating of my own heart.It had been like this for weeks. Or months? Time had lost its meaning in this prison of rotting wood and sick desire.Dorian had just left, leaving behind the smell of our sex and the echo of his last words:“You’re mine until death, little witch.”For the first time, the word “death” sounded less like a term of endearment and more like a promise.My body ached in places I didn’t even know existed. Bite marks, scratches, bruises—a map of our mutual obsession carved into my skin.And yet, what hurt the most wasn’t the physical, but the truth that finally pierced the haze of the spell: I had lost control.The blood spell—the one I myself had cast with such pride and desire—had grown beyond me. As the witch had warned, it had created a cycle that no

The white light of the hospital hurt my eyes. Or perhaps it was the fact that I was returning from the limbo, from the shadows where I drifted for endless days, without dreams, without memories, without pain.Dorian.My name came first. Then, the sensation of a strange body—numb arms, heavy legs, a head throbbing as if it had been opened and hastily patched.“He’s waking up!” A female voice, familiar, cut through the white silence.Sarah.Her face appeared above mine, streaked with tears, her eyes red and swollen. She held my hand so tightly I could feel every bone in her fingers.“Dorian? Can you hear me?”I tried to speak, but my throat was dry as paper. Someone, a nurse, approached with a cup of water and a straw. I drank in small sips, feeling the cold liquid slide down like relief.“What…” My voice came out low, a harsh, unrecognizable sound. “What happened?”Sarah and the nurse exchanged glances. It was the nurse who answered, professional, careful.“Mr. Caine, you suffered a gu

I worked until the seventh month of pregnancy, serving coffee and cleaning tables with an enormous belly. Marge, who at first was just a boss, became a kind of impromptu godmother, bringing used baby clothes and snacks for nausea.“You’re too young to go through this alone,” she said once, while I rested during my break. “Where’s the father?”“He died,” I answered, and it wasn’t a lie. The man I knew had died in that abandoned house. And it was better that way. He wouldn’t be forced to care for a child he didn’t want, to stay near someone he didn’t love.She didn’t ask again.The nights were the worst. Lying in the narrow bed in the basement, my hand over the belly that grew each week, I thought about Dorian. About his face when he read Shakespeare. About his voice when he said my name. About the last time I saw him, with the gun against his temple.“If you were here…”But he wasn’t. And I had to move forward.***In college, I never had friends. I was the strange girl, the weirdo wit