Dark Obsession Novels & Stories

His entire aura drew me in, grabbing me by the collar and forcing me to follow. I took a step closer, watching as he shifted in his seat. How could someone be so exquisite? The mere sight of him had my pulse racing. My breath hitched, something inside me snapping. Fuck. What was this feeling? I'd never felt it before. It wasn’t love or lust. It was something much darker. More twisted. Like it crawled from the bottom of hell and wrapped around my throat. Obsession. I wanted him. All of him. Every twitch, every whisper, every clumsy, flustered movement that screamed "break me", "use me as you see fit" and damn did I want to do just that. I wanted to ruin this pretty little thing till there was

Maddox. It smelled like dark musk and cracked leather, like a cedarwood forest after rain, laced with smoke and something warmer—like heat, or sex, or both. My body stiffened immediately. Not now. God, not now. I hadn’t even taken the blockers. My pills hadn’t arrived.

"Your hatred is the fuel for my obsession. The more you despise me, the more I crave to break you—until you have nothing left but my name on your lips when you finally reach your breaking point." He didn't want my soul; he wanted my absolute submission. My mind rebelled, screaming at me to push him away, to find a weapon, to run—but my body was betraying me. The proximity of him was like a narcotic, a lethal, addictive pull that made my knees feel like water. I hated how much I wanted him to stop, yet simultaneously, I craved this ruin. I craved the intensity because, in a world where I had been discarded and killed, his obsession—however toxic—was the only thing that felt real.

He walked toward the bed, his heavy boots silent against the thick rug, but the sheer gravity of his room-shutting-down aura felt like a physical blow pressing down on my chest line. His dark eyes had turned into a solid, pitch-black abyss. There were no clinical boundaries or fragile rules left behind his features, there was only a dark, volatile obsession burning behind his cold exterior. He stopped at the edge of the high mattress, his predatory gaze locking directly onto my pale, translucent face, tracking the frantic pulse jumping violently in my throat. He could smell it. He could smell the sudden, explosive spike of rain and jasmine saturating the air, dripping with the raw, sweet mus

I wasn't about to let some board member's careless door add another one. I grabbed my bag and headed toward the elevators. And then I saw it. Ethan's BMW. Parked in his usual spot glossy, black, polished so aggressively you could see your own reflection in the hood. The kind of car that made other cars feel insecure about themselves. I almost walked past it. Almost. Something made me slow down. On the windshield. I squinted. Was that…? Pigeon poop. Fresh. Wet. Generously distributed across the center of the glass like some kind of modern art installation. Shining under the parking lights like a badge of honor.

The answer hovered within my reach but I couldn't grasp it. Until my attention flicked over to the open case and I saw a human head, bloodied and bruised with bloodshot eyes lying inside. A scream died in my parched throat, my vision starting to swarm with black dots. The answer finally clicked. I’ve been drugged.

"I have spent my life making sure you are my only obsession.A reflection will not replace me. Look at me, Ivy—see me. Even here, in the middle of this nightmare, I want you to remember who owns the heart that’s beating so frantically in your chest." The humming intensified, a ghostly, feminine melody that seemed to leak from the very wallpaper. Dante’s obsession flared into a fever. He needed to overwrite the lullaby with the sound of his own name. He needed to prove, right here in the center of their enemies' design, that his possessiveness was a force of nature that no "Red String" could restrain. He pushed Ivy back against the heavy, lace-covered bed—the bed that was a replica of her girl

Worst of all, her greatest crime was daring to resist him. This was a madness that only grew stronger with every passing day, refusing to fade. It was a suffocating intoxication that hungered to swallow her whole, body and soul. It was a relentless obsession that had long lost the ability to distinguish between right and wrong—or perhaps, it simply chose not to care. This was a dark, twisted vendetta, the kind where two graves had already been dug long before the final blow was ever struck.

As he leans in closer to her lips, the sunlight would cover their entire body, and from afar it would look as if their silhouette merges into one. Yet, here they are. In a dark church after hours, where the only lightnings were those lit up candles of people’s hopes and dreams. Some candles were already long gone, while only a few remains. Still burning as they continued to flicker in the darkness. Even though her lips tasted like her tears, salty. He couldn’t help it, as he continued the kiss. The longer it held out, the more passionate the kiss became. He held her tighter as he sucks on to her bottom lips. Rolling his tongue against hers.

She smiled as she felt life retire from her body. "Welcome to the darkness" She said to him as she fell on the bed and passed out. For a moment, he became transfixed as he saw her unclad body lying in the pool of blood. What did he just do? He thought as he took a few steps away from the bed. He had killed someone, he thought as he dropped the piece of broken bottle on the floor. He began to pant as he looked at the door. He knew the sound of the music was what had distracted the men from what was happening inside the room.