his dark obsession

accept your role

Vlads POV

Pre-dawn light filters through the curtains, casting a soft glow on my closed eyes. I've been lying here awake for the past half hour, processing the last two weeks. It's been a hell of a ride. I went to my club intending to get shitfaced and fuck a random woman, but I found my queen instead. She's my other half, and she doesn't want to change me; she wants to cause destruction with me. Then she left, and I had to find her and fuck her senseless for three days. Our compound was attacked, and I discovered that the fuckers who want me dead also want my woman. That sent me into a blinding rage. Now, I've forcibly proposed to my queen, and she's insanely agreed. Yeah, one hell of a ride, and I wouldn't change a fucking thing.

Opening my eyes, I find Angel curled up next to me in a tiny ball, her ass pressed against my hip. I slide my hand over the gouge she made in my chest above my heart last night. She definitely broke the skin, and I fucking loved it.

A small groan escapes Angel as she rolls onto her back, her facial features scrunched into a grimace. "Feel like I got trampled by a horse," she mutters.

"You alright?" I ask, propping myself up on one elbow to look at her.

"Welcome to the world of morning-after, asshole," she whines, rubbing her eyes. "You should never marry someone if you don't like how they look in the morning."

"I wasn't talking about your looks," I say with a chuckle, leaning down to kiss her temple. "Don't spoil me with affection; I might get used to it," she murmurs, scratching like a kitten.

After a moment, she asks, "Can I see your phone?"

"Why?"

"I need clothes. Mine got destroyed at the old compound last night," she grumbles. "How does your phone equal clothing?" I ask, handing it to her.

"I can online shop, you know," she snickers, taking the phone. "Just because I never owned a cell phone doesn't mean I don't know how to use one."

I watch her scroll through the phone, her large breasts flattening somewhat but still looking heavy and full. My tongue moistens my lips as I start to edge toward her. She glances over at me and stops typing.

"Not a chance. My body is one giant fucking bruise," she says, showing me her wrist, which bears the marks of my grip from last night. "I love pain the same way I love pleasure, but right now, I'm sore and need a little downtime away from your baseball bat of a cock."

"What are you doing?" I ask, watching her face.

"I need your credit card," she says, pushing against my encroaching mouth.

"It's in my wallet," I say. "Grab it real quick."

"My wallet is in my pants," I grumble.

"Well, get it out and give it to me," she says, still typing and scrolling through things.

"Your phone is unlocked," she states.

"Da, I trust you," I reply, my eyes drifting lower to her breasts. Her voice cuts through the lustful fog in my brain. "I need your credit card. Clothes don't pay for themselves, and I can't go get them right now, given the circumstances. Plus, I know you confiscated my emergency bag with all my travel money."

"Da, I took it and burned it. You spend only what's mine because what's mine is ours. I take care of my woman in every single way, da?" I say, starting to tug down the sheet. She holds it tightly, glaring at me.

"Wallet, clothes, and then maybe sex," she insists.

"Fuck," I grumble as I start sitting up. "How the hell are you getting clothes?"