Chapter 14 Haunted by Her
I feel like I’m losing my mind without her. My skull throbs, fogged from the night before. How much did I drink? The half-empty bottle is still glued to my hand, my only companion in this hollow room. I took far too many swigs trying to drown out the dark, possessive urge clawing at me—an urge to drag her home, chain her body to mine, and remind her who she belongs to.
The little control I have left slips between my fingers. She has no idea what she does to me—how easily she unravels the threads I’ve stitched together to hold myself steady. All I can think about is pressing her down, running my blade up the soft skin of her thigh, watching her breath hitch as danger and desire blur into one. The way her eyes would widen, how her lips would part when I hover over her. She’d tremble. She always trembles.
And when she does, I’ll make her beg. Beg me to touch her. Beg me to ruin her.
I lick my lips at the thought, a low growl rumbling from my chest.
No matter how badly I want to bring her home—to possess her until the only thing left in her soul is the need to please me—I have to be patient. She needs to see the world without me. To feel the cold sting of life stripped of my protection. Only then will she appreciate the things I’ve done for her.
I want her crawling back. I want her desperate. By the time my finger traces that sweet spot between her thighs, I want her trembling with hunger, unable to breathe without me.
She loves me. I know she does.
If she didn’t, she would have finished the job that night. She could’ve set the rest of me on fire—turned me to ash—but she didn’t. She hesitated. Because deep down, she couldn’t kill her master.
The look on her face after she hurt me... the horror, the realization, the fear—it was intoxicating. God, the way her lips trembled made me hard. That fear is beautiful. It’s mine.
But I can’t pretend I’m blameless. We had good times—great times. Nights she laughed until she cried, mornings where she woke tangled in my arms. I shouldn’t have lost it that night. Should’ve reined in the storm. Should’ve coaxed her closer when she said no, let her feel safe… then made her scream yes with my name on her tongue and her legs shaking from the pleasure. That would’ve been smarter.
Instead, I burned the bridge between us, and she—my sweet little Amara—ran straight into the arms of law and iron bars.
Tsk. Tsk. Little one, what were you thinking?
Going to the cops when you knew I owned most of them. When you knew their loyalty was mine. You should’ve run. You’d still be free—or as free as my chain allows. Because even then, I would’ve found you. I would’ve dragged you home and locked you where you belong. At least then, you’d be chained to our bed, not a filthy cot in a cold cell.
I let out a dark laugh. She thinks she’s safe. She thinks she’s out of reach.
She’s wrong.
I swirl the last drop of bourbon and down it, the burn in my throat nothing compared to the ache in my chest. My gaze lands on the old photograph on the table—her smile frozen in time, eyes full of fire and innocence. She was perfect that night.
“Do you remember our first date, princess?” I whisper into the empty room. “You burned yourself into my soul that night.”
I can see it so clearly—
“Oh, come on, princess, give a guy a chance,” I’d said, putting on my best wounded eyes.
She’d tried to ignore me, wringing out a rag as she wiped down the bar. So focused. So careful.
“Okay, fine. One date. That’s it.”
I smiled then, because I knew—we both knew—it wouldn’t be just one. I’d been watching her for months, after all. Every move, every laugh, every sigh she gave to someone else was a dagger to my chest.
“Great. Let’s blow this place.”
She laughed. “Slow down, cowboy. I still have to finish my shift.”
“What time do you get off?”
“1:30. Where do you want to meet?”
“Meet? We’re already here. Might as well take you out after you clock out.”
She grinned. “I have to change.”
“No, you don’t. You look delicious.”
She’d rolled her eyes at me then. God, that look. So defiant. So alive. I wanted to bend her over that bar and teach her what happens when a woman rolls her eyes at her master. But not yet. She wasn’t mine—not yet.
“Fine,” I said, grinning. “We’ll play it your way. You know the Starlight Club?”
“Never heard of it.”
I scribbled down the address and slid it to her. “Meet me there at three.”
“Won’t a club be closed by then?”
“Lucky for you, I know the owner.”
She’d tilted her head, smiled that shy little smile. “Guess that works in your favor then, huh?”
“It surely does, princess.”
She was radiant when she walked into the Starlight. A tight red dress hugged her curves like it had been sewn for her. Long black hair fell in perfect waves, framing that pretty face. Black heels. Glossed lips. My breath caught in my throat.
When I kissed her hand, her cheeks flushed pink. She had no idea that from that moment on, she belonged to me.
“My, my, little one,” I murmur to the empty room now, “what are you doing to me?”
The silence offers no answer.
I slam the bottle against the wall. Glass shatters, scattering across the floor. Her ghost clings to every corner of this room. Every heartbeat, every inhale—she’s there.
She haunts me.
But I’ll have her back.
Even if I have to burn the world down to do it.