Losing Control: His Madness, His Cure Novels & Stories

“I was able to get her out of your filthy claws before you could inflict any more damage on her.” “I would never hurt her or anyone else for that matter on purpose.” Xavier paces the room contemplating. “Weather you wanted to or not does not matter, what matters is that you can’t control yourself, not when blood is involved.” “It’s this disease, its eating away at my impulse control. I swear I would never do anything to hurt her.” He stepped closer to me now, his voice dropping. “You are going to be here, like this for now and it is going to stay that way for the rest of the treatment.

We've raised her for so long and we've already fulfilled our obligations. I held Cara even tighter. Everyone around here knew Hans Black loved to drink and even physically abused his own family. However, his family was rich and managed to obtain a mental health assessment report claiming that he was mentally ill. Not even the cops could do anything if they were here. Ethan was so brutal. He didn't bat an eye even when he offered his own granddaughter as a sacrifice. "Cara is definitely this family's child. There must be a misunderstanding. I've been working hard to support this family and I'm so busy frequently that I only have time to take a nap in the on-call room, and you said I've been c

I broke them easily, rising up to my feet slowly, eyes pinned on my mother. "Shut up!" She shouted, her upper lip curling upward. "Do you think I really didn't think this through, that I don't have a plan B?" Her resting bitch face changed when she smirked, her left brow raised. I furrowed my eyebrows, wondering what she was talking about, and that is when rogues burst past the tree line, led by a huge black wolf. "N-o." I shook my head, my eyes widening. "I control his mind now. You see, when he lost his sanity after I broke your mate bond, he attacked my rogues, and one bite from them linked him to my controlling magic." I swallowed hard, spreading my arm to him.

He is crazy about Heer, he does not feel ashamed at all for doing such a thing, but is proud of him. This is a slightly shocking case, but a matter of extreme frightening. More dangerous than an angry person is the passion of a crazy person. And now Heer has understood that Sanam's obsession speaks on his head. This passion of Sanam has kept him under his control.

He could feel it himself, the way his emotions slipped beyond control, the mania clawing at the edges of his restraint. Their lord’s madness was incurable. Deadly. Anyone foolish enough to approach him—or worse, provoke him—during one of these episodes would be slaughtered without hesitation, status be damned. The only thing they could do was bow their heads in absolute submission. “Yes, my lord. We will absolutely bring your heir, the Luna and the heir of the Nightshade to you,” one of them vowed, his voice shaking despite the words. “Now piss off.” His hand, slick with blood, dragged across his forehead as he exhaled sharply. “If you linger here any longer, I won’t be able to stop myself f

The helplessness. Madam Hale pressed a trembling hand to her lips, whispering something under her breath that sounded like a prayer. “I don’t understand,” she murmured. “Lena would never hurt her brother because that what you are obviously insinuating. She adored him since they were children. She…. she wouldn’t—” “I don’t think she meant to,” I said quietly. “James found something in her head. Radiation. Some kind of neurological interference. It’s possible she was being controlled.”

He did not want to hurt anyone else, have more blood laid at his feet, but he would not be captured. Then a wave, more a wall, of emotions welled up from within him. It was frightening, disconcerting, how they strung him, keyed him, dampened him, doubled his vision and thoughts. Every moment was a fight for control, to keep at bay the rapacious, amoral consciousness growing inside him, from overwhelming him, and it was getting worse. He had to get back home, find out what had caused this deformation. Leaning against the hard, cold stone, fighting for control, he heard the swish of fabric, clink of metal on metal, approaching feet.

Madison remained composed. "Mental illness doesn't mean that a person can't take care of themselves. It just means that they've lost control over their mind." "Don't go! I-I need to talk to you!" Cynthia grabbed Madison's arm. The nurses exchanged glances. Madison nodded at them and said, "It's fine. You can go." The door stayed open—Cynthia refused to let them close it. She was terrified that once it shut, she would never walk through it again.

His free hand slammed down on my hip, fingers digging in, yanking me harder against him so there was no space left for lies. He was thick and hot behind me, pulsing with every heartbeat, and the realization that I’d done this—reduced Reese, the man who loved being in control to this trembling edge—flooded me with dangerous triumph. “Do you actually want me to stop?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper, daring him. He hissed through his teeth. “I don’t know. I think I’m losing my goddamn mind.” Another laugh slipped out of me, darker this time. “I thought you loved control. I thought you were the one who never broke. Look at you now, Reese. What’s happening?”

She drove him mad and paralyzed him at the same time. He tried to keep it in, he tried to find calmness, but even if he found one now, it was useless. He couldn't use it now. It was too late. She had done it, she had pulled the last knot of sanity he had left, she had succeeded in killing him, she had drowned him in desire. He was lost in her breath, he was no were to be found in her damn breath. He searched for his hands only to find out they were already tied around her waist. It was madness. She was madness. She was his control and he knew it.