Page 55 of Dark Therapy

His grip on me tightened, fingers digging into my skin like he wanted to consume me, to claim every inch of me, and I let him. I was drowning, but I didn’t care. The fog in my head thickened, every thought slipping further away as the world around me twisted and warped into something unrecognizable. The darkness was all-encompassing,seductivein its cruelty, and I let it take me, let it swallow me whole.

I didn’t need to breathe. I didn’t need anything. All that mattered washim. His presence consumed me, his touch branded me, marking me ashisin ways no one else ever could. I wasn’t me anymore. I was just a vessel, a part of him now. My body burned with the desire, theache, and the undeniable pull of him.

And as the last sliver of awareness flickered in my mind, the last thing I heard was his voice, rough and possessive as he came inside me.‘Mine.’

It was a declaration. A promise. And as the darkness claimed me fully, I let it—let him—take me in, knowing that when I woke, I would be his.

THE UNSEEN EYE

Damien

I sat at the edge of her bed, my fingers twitching against my thigh as I watched her.Amelia. Soft. Still. Completely fucking oblivious. Her breathing was steady, rhythmic, like nothing in her fragile little world had justimploded. She had no idea I was here, no clue how close she was to the darkness sitting inches away, claws itching to rip through the calm she wore like a fucking shield.

I should have felt triumphant. Jake was dealt with—his body a grotesque smear of meat and memory, buried somewhere no one would ever find. The scene was clean, tied up in a neat, bloody bow like I always did. But that victory?Hollow.Meaningless. Because even with that bastard gone, the storm inside me wouldn’t settle. All I could see was her. This perfect,breakablething, lying there so peacefully while Iburned.

Myjaw tightened as I ran a hand through my hair, still sticky from Jake’s blood. I should’ve washed it off. Should’ve left. But Icouldn’t. Something about her anchored me here, like a damn leash I hadn’t agreed to wear. She didn’t just worm her way under my skin; she fuckingdugin. I looked at her and felt that raw, unrelenting itch todestroy—to leavemymark so deeply that no one could ever remove it. Not even her.

The worst part? She hadseenme. Earlier, when her eyes locked on mine, it wasn’t just fear staring back at me. No. It was something else. Something…alive. She didn’t just see a monster. She saw thetruth. And instead of breaking, sheheldonto it. That pissed me off even more.

My fingers curled into fists. I wanted to punish her for it, for making me feel this—thisthingI couldn’t name. Rage? Lust?Fuck, maybe both. It clawed at me, begged to be unleashed, but something stopped me. That look in her eyes. That flicker of something deeper. She wasn’t afraid in the way she should’ve been. She didn’t crumble. She saw me, and instead of recoiling, shedaredto reach into the abyss.

I leaned forward, close enough to feel the warmth of her breath against my skin. Her scent flooded my senses—soft,tempting, a perfect contradiction to the chaos she had unleashed in me. She smelled like peace, like safety, and Ihatedit. Hatedher. Wanted to break her until all that softness shattered beneath my hands.

But then that flicker came back,hauntingme. I could almost hear her voice, the unspoken challenge in the way she had looked at me. She wasn’t just a pawn. She was something else,somethingdangerous. Not because she was a threat, but because she made me feelhuman. And that was the most dangerous thing of all.

I reached for the knife lying at the edge of the bed, its blade still smeared with blood. It felt familiar, grounding. The weight of it reminded me who I was—whatI was. Akiller. A fuckinggodin the realm of destruction. But as my fingers brushed the cold steel, my gaze drifted back to her. So peaceful. So unaware.

What the fuck are youdoingto me, Millie?

The thought came unbidden, clawing at my mind. My grip on the knife tightened as I wrestled with the urge to finish this—to cut her out of my head the only way I knew how. But I didn’t. Ijust sat there, watching her, my mind a twisted battlefield of rage, desire, and something Icouldn’tname.

She was the one thing I couldn’t predict. The one variable I couldn’t control. And that made her fuckingterrifying,

I leaned back, gripping the knife like it was the only thing keeping me tethered to reality. The cool steel bit into my palm, the dried blood cracking on my skin, but I couldn’t stop the trembling in my hand.Trembling.Whatthefuckwasthat?I didn’t tremble. I didn’t break. Not ever.

She wasbreakingme.

I glanced down at the jagged slashes on my palm, the ones I’d carved there in a desperate attempt to drown out the chaos in my head. The sting was sharp, but it didn’t even scratch the surface of themessinside me. Pain used to be my anchor—simple, controllable. Something I understood. But now? Now it was just noise. Useless fuckingnoisethat couldn’t silence the screaming in my chest.

What the fuck was she doing to me?

I traced the edge of the knife, watching the blood smear against the blade, dark and clotted. It should’ve grounded me. The weight of it, the precision. But every thought, every flicker of clarity, was consumed byher. Hereyes, wide and unyielding. Herlips, trembling with defiance. The way she gasped when I got too close, like she was trying so fucking hard not to show fear but couldn’t quite hide it.

God, I wanted tobreakher.

I wanted to shatter every last piece of her resistance, to pull her apart until there was nothing left but the raw, exposed truth of her—because only then would she be mine.Fully, completely mine. But the way she looked at me… it wasn’t fear. It wasn’t submission. It was something else entirely, something thattwistedme up inside and made me feel like I was the one who was unraveling.

I slammed the knife into the mattress, the blade sinking deep into the fabric with a dull thud. My chest heaved, my breath ragged, the firestorm inside me refusing to die down.She was in my fucking head, crawling under my skin like aparasiteI couldn’t rip out.

And Ihatedher for it.

No. That wasn’t true.

I hated myself forwantingher the way I did—for craving her in a way that wasn’t just about control or power, but something darker. Something I couldn’t even put a name to. She wasn’t just a game. She wasn’t just another body to mold, to shape, todestroy.

She wasdangerous.

Not because she could see through me—but because she made me want things I wasn’t supposed to want. Because she made meweakin ways I couldn’t afford to be. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her. Not bleeding, not screaming, butsmiling. Trusting. Like she couldfixme. Like she could see something worth saving.