A Predator's Obsession Novels & Stories

Because they can, they don't like people having peace of mind. He stood abruptly, his movement sharp and unsteady. "Don't worry, I'll handle it. Whatever this is, it will end right now!. " Promise me," that this won't destroy us. He looked up, something uncertain flickering behind his calm." I'll try," he said. When we reached the table, his hand found mine. It wasn't steady — cold, foreign. I knew deep down that what connected us then wasn't love, but fear. Fear of the unknown.

Copyright, Nihc Ronoel All Rights Reserved 2020 MYSTERIOUS OBSESSION “Where can your obsession finally lead you?” Aris Sandoval was such a good-for-nothing type of a Casanova, but behind his charming looks that were effortlessly used to leave trails of brokenhearted women wherever he went, lies an obsessed heart longing for an extraordinary woman from his past. Will he still continue his mysterious obsession, once he found the right love with a different woman?

It is not just me being pulled. It is us. And the predator— The predator reacts. Not with confusion. Not with hesitation. With interest. Because now— There is more than one pattern to learn. And that changes everything.

For a long, agonizing minute, the only sound was our synchronized, breathless gasps. Then, slowly, the dominant predator returned to his eyes. He reached down, picking up the white piece of cloth. With agonizingly slow, precise movements, he wiped his hand and his skin entirely clean, tossing the soiled cloth onto the floor. He was completely relaxed now, his immediate hunger sated, which made him infinitely more dangerous. He didn't have the frantic urge to rush his own release anymore; he had taken care of his need, and now his sole focus was on me.

And even from this distance, I felt the weight of his attention settle on me. A slow, deliberate awareness. As if he had been waiting for something. As if the silence of the past months had been intentional. Calculated. My heart began to pound. Because predators do not lose interest. They observe. They learn. They choose their moment carefully. And as his shadow shifted slightly closer, I realized with a cold certainty that whatever moment he had been waiting for… It was coming.

No mind games this time – I need to prove to myself that I'm still a fierce predator, capable of tearing into anyone without hesitation, even if they were a nun clutching a bible. As the man's cries become more desperate, I use my mental powers to block out his pleas, tuning them out like a student ignoring a boring lecture. The aroma of fear hangs heavy in the air, tantalizing my senses and urging me to act. I am a predator, after all, and predators feel no guilt when they hunt. My mouth waters like a hungry wolf eyeing a plump rabbit as I lunge for the man's neck. My fangs sink into his artery, as easily as a knife slicing through warm butter. Blood spurts out in a vibrant red fountain, dr

Just stared. And in that stare, there was heat, tension, and something else I couldn’t name. Recognition, maybe. Or possession. The look of a man seeing something he wanted and knowing, with absolute certainty, that he would have it. The look of a predator who had found his prey and was savoring the moment before the hunt began.

“I won’t share you either.” We both laughed then, a little, broken, terrible sound, because the logic of it was perfect and monstrous. We were not lovers in any soft sense. We were two predators with the same reflection, circling each other, sharpening ourselves on each other’s edges. “Do you know what’s worse?” I said, throat tight with something like longing and something like surrender. “That I’m relieved. That I’ve been hating what I felt and now that I know the truth I’m almost happy about it. Obsessed with the same woman twice over. You’re right under my skin. You were always under my skin.”

And I was ready to exploit every flaw in his obsession. Mark paused near the desk, scanning the files and hidden drives. His obsession flared visibly—a subtle twitch in his jaw, the intensity of his gaze sharpening. He reached for one of the drives, but didn’t touch it. “These are mine,” he said, voice low, predatory. “Every secret, every file, every shadow of your past… mine.” “Yes,” I said, calm, steady. “Yours.” He stepped closer, circling slowly like a predator assessing prey. “Do you understand what obedience means, Jessy? That knowledge without permission is dangerous?”

Obsession isn’t something you choose. It chooses you. Wraps around your soul like a vice, squeezing until there’s nothing left but the sickness of wanting. It seeps into your blood, replacing logic, making you something… else. Something monstrous. And fuck… I like it the more I watch her.