A Predator's Obsession Novels & Stories

What is wrong with me? I should be focusing on my coffee or the door. Or literally anything that doesn’t involve tracking the bead of sweat sliding down his throat. But my gaze keeps dragging back, like I’m hooked, like he’s reeling me in without even trying. It’s not in admiration. Not exactly. It’s… assessment. Predator clocking another predator. Because there’s a way he moves, controlled, that says he doesn’t just train to look good. He trains for the kill.

“Untouchable? No, Orion. It makes her the perfect target. Every jealous bitch in this place, every guy who wanted to take a swing at you but couldn’t, every rival who’s been waiting for an opening, they would all look at her and see weakness. A way to get to you without going through you.” I clenched my fists. His words fucking sank in. It was bitter but true. River had walked into my world tonight but now? She was locked there. “She’s stronger than you think,” I muttered, almost to myself. Justin’s brows shot up. “Stronger? She is still figuring out where she stands. She doesn’t have protection of her own name. She doesn’t have status and you……..” he jabbed a finger at me “…….you just made

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.

Let him run. Because every time he comes back a little faster. A little hungrier. A little more mine. He thinks he's fighting me. He's not. He's fighting the part of himself that already decided. And when he finally stops fighting...when he looks at me and there's no lie left in his eyes....I won't gloat. I will just hold him tighter. Because that's what obsession is, not fireworks, not chains. Just the quiet knowledge that he belongs here, with me, in the dark.

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.