Can a psychopath feel love like you and me?? The answer is no. Because whatever they feel is much more dangerous then just love. It's an obsession, a craving, a madness.
That is the only way to explain Killian's feelings for Ophelia
ITS A DARK ROMA...
I have posted 4 different chapters at the same time, this is the second 🤍
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Killian's pov:
As I gradually emerged from the depths of slumber, I was met with the sensation of movement beside me. My eyes fluttered open, immediately focusing on the figure stirring in the bed beside mine. Ophelia, her delicate features softened in the faint light filtering through the curtains, appeared restless, her brow furrowed in evident discomfort.
I reached out instinctively, my hand seeking to soothe her, to calm the agitation that seemed to grip her even in sleep. Yet, as my fingers brushed against her, she recoiled slightly, her body tensing at my touch. For a fleeting moment, a pang of disappointment pierced through me, a reminder of the vast chasm that lay between us despite our physical proximity.
But then, as she attempted to extricate herself from my embrace, her eyes fluttered open, revealing pools of vulnerability and fear. It was a sight that both intrigued and captivated me, drawing me further into the enigma that was Ophelia.
"Go back to sleep, love," I murmured softly, my voice a gentle reassurance in the darkness. I watched as she struggled to sit up, her movements hesitant and uncertain. Despite my desire to keep her close, to prolong this moment of intimacy, I knew better than to push her boundaries.
Reluctantly, I released her, allowing her to slip from the bed and make her way to the bathroom. As she disappeared behind the closed door, a surge of possessiveness washed over me, a primal instinct urging me to reclaim what was rightfully mine.
But I quelled the impulse, reminding myself of the delicate balance I had to maintain. Ophelia was not a possession to be controlled but a prize to be won, a puzzle to be solved. And I intended to unlock every secret she harbored, to unravel every layer of her being until she belonged to me completely.
As I woke to the stirrings of movement beside me, a surge of urgency coursed through my veins. Time was of the essence, and I could ill afford to linger in the comforting embrace of slumber while the world outside awaited my attention.
"Knock knock knock," I called out, the urgency evident in my voice as I urged her to hasten her preparations. Every moment wasted was a moment lost, and I was loath to delay any longer than necessary.
As she emerged from the bathroom, her presence commanded my attention, a fragile yet captivating figure bathed in the soft glow of morning light. I wasted no time in handing her the sundress, a silent command that brooked no argument.
Watching her trembling fingers as she accepted the garment, I felt a surge of possessiveness wash over me. She was mine to command, mine to mold and shape in accordance with my desires. And yet, even as I reveled in the power I held over her, a part of me couldn't help but feel a twinge of remorse at the sight of her trembling form.
"I have to go now, but I'll be back soon," I murmured, my voice tinged with urgency as I dressed quickly, the weight of responsibility pressing down upon my shoulders like a burden too heavy to bear.
Leaning in close, I whispered a warning in her ear, a reminder of the consequences of disobedience. It was a necessary measure, a preemptive strike against the chaos that threatened to unravel the fragile semblance of control I had worked so hard to maintain.
With a final glance, I left the room, the weight of my duty heavy upon my shoulders as I ventured out into the world beyond. Yet, even as I left her behind, a part of me remained tethered to her, bound by the invisible threads of obsession and desire that had ensnared me from the very beginning.
.-.-.-.-.
As I sat in my office, surrounded by the sterile glow of monitors displaying various feeds from the cameras scattered throughout the house, a sense of anticipation pulsed through my veins. My eyes were fixed on the screen displaying the image of Ophelia in our bedroom, her delicate form moving with an elegance that never failed to captivate me.
A smirk tugged at the corners of my lips as I watched her defy my instructions, choosing a dress different from the one I had selected for her. Her disobedience only served to fuel the fire of desire that burned within me, igniting a primal urge to possess and dominate her completely.
I imagined her reaction when I returned, the flash of realization dawning in her eyes as she recognized her mistake in disobeying me. The thought brought a twisted smile to my lips, a perverse satisfaction in the knowledge that she would soon beg for my forgiveness, her defiance crumbling beneath the weight of my authority.
But my amusement turned to fury as I watched one of my men enter the room, his presence an unwelcome intrusion upon the sanctity of our private domain. I felt a surge of possessive rage course through me at the sight of him daring to share her company, his very presence an affront to my dominance over her.
My fists clenched involuntarily as I watched him draw closer to her, his audacity sending a red-hot surge of anger coursing through my veins. And when I saw his hand reach out to touch her, a primal roar of fury tore from my throat, the sound echoing through the empty halls of the house.
Without hesitation, I leapt from my seat, my heart pounding with a savage intensity as I stormed into the bedroom. My eyes burned with a possessive fire as I confronted the intruder, my voice a low, dangerous growl as I demanded an explanation for his insolence.
As I stormed into the room, my rage burning like a wildfire, I wasted no time in seizing Lucas by the neck, my fingers closing around his throat with a vice-like grip. The look of fear in his eyes only fueled my fury, driving me to unleash the full force of my wrath upon him.
With a guttural snarl, I delivered a punishing blow to his face, the sickening sound of bone meeting flesh echoing through the room. Ophelia's pleas for me to stop fell on deaf ears as I continued to rain down blow after blow upon Lucas, each strike fueled by a primal rage that consumed me utterly.
I could feel the strength of my own fury coursing through my veins, a savage intensity that rendered me deaf to reason, blind to anything but the burning desire to punish the one who dared to lay hands on what was mine. Ophelia's cries only served to stoke the flames of my anger, driving me to greater acts of violence in my quest to protect her.
"Let go of him I'm begging you! Pleasant Killian" she begs me.
As I rained down blow after punishing blow upon Lucas, a desperate question tore from my lips, my voice laced with a raw, visceral emotion that bordered on madness. "Why do you care for him, Ophelia?" I demanded, my words a desperate plea for understanding in the midst of my seething fury. "Why do you care for him and not me!"
But her cries fell upon deaf ears as I continued to pummel Lucas mercilessly, each strike driven by a primal instinct to assert my dominance over him, to prove once and for all that he was nothing compared to me.
In that moment, consumed by the fires of my own rage, I was blind to anything but the burning need to protect what was mine at all costs, even if it meant sacrificing everything else in the process.
