“How do you know I’ve gotten this far in all the volumes?”
“I was in your room the other time, remember?”
“Stalker,” she mutters, but she sits down opposite me and strokes the covers of the mangas.
“I know.”
She whips her head up, her slowly drying strands swishing with the motion. “It doesn’t bother you to be called that?”
“If that label makes you feel at ease, go right ahead. I have no fucks to give.”
Cecily watches me peculiarly. “It’s not normal that you stalk me, buy the mangas I read, do some research on them, and even buy clothes that are exactly my size. Did you go through my wardrobe?”
“I did, but I didn’t need that to know your size.” I lift a hand and trace an imaginary outline. “I remember every nook of your body and can guess the size.”
Her lips tremble, but she murmurs, “You’re really impossible.”
“So you keep telling me. You need to learn that I don’t give a fuck about what’s considered normal or socially acceptable. If I want something, I will have it.”
She goes still, probably detecting my nonnegotiable tone. Her gaze slides all over me, from my face to my nonchalant position to the ink that’s spilling out from my short-sleeved shirt.
It lingers there, on the ink, before she slides it back to my face. “How are you any different from barbarians?”
“Don’t know and don’t care. Labels hold no importance for me.”
“What does then?”
“At the moment? You and your submission.”
She swallows thickly. “What if I say no?”
“Then you’d be lying to me and yourself. You enjoy this, Cecily. It’s in your nature, so how about you let go for once?”
She clamps her lips shut, not saying anything.
I know I have a long way to go with her. She didn’t even admit to the reason behind her decimation until I basically forced it out of her.
My blood turns ice-cold in my veins at the thought of that fucker who hurt her and transformed a proud girl into someone who can’t control herself. What he did to her must be the reason why gagging and drugging are her limits.
I will find him.
I will make him regret fucking with her.
Cecily might be a toy, but she’s my fucking toy and no one is allowed to touch her.
Hurt her.
Or engrave a permanent scar inside her.
CECILY
Two weeks pass in a blur.
A crazy, twisted blur that I can’t keep up with.
The moment I start to adjust, Jeremy pulls the rug from beneath my feet and we go back to square one.
Every night, I have to show up at the cottage. If I don’t, his shadow will loom wherever I am. Whether I’m at the shelter, the library, or out with friends.
Anywhere.
He’s become a seasoned stalker who’s everywhere. He doesn’t need to say anything to prove his existence—his actions speak louder than words.
There’s nothing more frightening or threatening than his mere presence that he thoroughly uses to intimidate people—me included.
The thought of him acting on his threats and actually telling everyone what I enjoy doing in the dark terrorizes me more than I like to admit.
So every night, after the girls fall asleep, I sneak out of the flat like a thief and drive to the gothic place in the middle of nowhere.
It’s where I’m veiled by night. No one sees when I go to take part in my depraved tendencies, and no one hears when I scream as he fucks me into oblivion.
Because he does, and often, sometimes a few times during the same night.
He chases me whether inside the house or all over the property. The harder I run and fight him, the more animalistic he becomes, like a primal being who’s staking his claim.
The louder I scream, the deeper he goes, exposing and provoking the darkest parts of me.
He makes me beg sometimes, too, and always tells me to scream his name when he’s fucking me, smashing my world to pieces and ripping it apart.
Jeremy is a savage devil and an unapologetic sociopath. I know because I’ve been around him long enough to put an appropriate label on him.
Though he might be a psychopath, considering his lack of impulsive actions. He always seems in control, the commander of his being, and a planner. But he somehow cares for those closest to him, namely Annika, and his Heathen gang.
His parents, too, according to what his sister tells us.
But I’m not sure if that’s genuine care or a sense of responsibility that’s been implemented in him ever since he was young. Either way, Jeremy lacks humanity and empathy.
He has no qualms about destroying anyone who stands in his path, and he certainly feels no remorse for his actions. In his mind, he believes the course of events that took place had to happen in that certain way, and there’s no force of nature that can convince him otherwise.
Due to his inflexible values, opinions, and actions, it’s hard to get a say with him.
It’s even harder to get him to see reason—not when he believes that his way is the most logical choice.
It’s more impossible to get him to let me go.
In the beginning, I thought his fixation with me was a phase that would dull with time. An obsession that would eventually purge its way out of his system.
After all, whether he’s a sociopath or a psychopath, Jeremy scores high on the antisocial spectrum, and his type has a fickle sense of relationships and an even shorter attention span.
To my horror, the exact opposite has happened.
Not only is he not growing bored of me, but he’s also extending the amount of time I spend in his company.
Now, he fucks me longer and won’t let me leave until the early hours of the morning, so I’ve started going back to the flat at near dawn.
He never asks me to stay the night, though. Never fucks me unclothed, and never steps in the shower with me.
That’s his way of creating distance between us and letting me know that I’m nothing more than his fuck toy. One he enjoys chasing and fucking, but never one to hold in his arms or show affection to.
He cooks for me, cleans me afterward, and even carries me in his arms to the cottage, but that’s the extent of his affection. Or the lack thereof.
At the start, I refused to admit that his treatment of me after sex is the reason for the bursts of emptiness I feel sometimes. I don’t even like Jeremy.
I don’t.
Not even if he buys me special editions of my favorite mangas, lets me talk about whatever subject I’m studying, and fixes me delicious dishes.
I certainly wouldn’t grow a soft spot for him because he makes each of my sexual fantasies come true. Or admit that he’s slowly allowing me to grow into that part of myself and accept it as a fragment of who I am.
While I enjoy the sexual part of things and how he pushes every button inside me, I’m well aware of who Jeremy Volkov actually is.
I know of his mafia legacy. While I’ve been dreaming of helping others as Mum does, he’s set to be a leader for blood-fests.
We don’t speak or think the same things. He’s too emotionless, and I’m too caring. He lacks empathy, while I feel it more than need be.
Jeremy and I are doomed for disaster, but don’t they say toxic relationships have the best sex? Though we’re not in a relationship.
I don’t even know what to call the thing we have.
It’s something, but I’m not sure what.
And because we’re not in a relationship, I shouldn’t have let Ava drag me to the fight club to watch him.
Or more like to watch the semi-finals. Between Jeremy and Landon.
I’ve been on edge ever since I heard those two would fight, but I never thought it would be so nerve-racking in person.
The buzzing crowd from our university and TKU don’t help. Noise, chatter, and bets made under the table mix in a symphony of chaos.
I’ve never liked these scenes, but Ava has a thing for watching men clash.
And I don’t have the heart to let Ava come on her own. Glyn loathes violence and never comes here if she can help it, not to mention she’s probably busy with her boyfriend, Killian.
As for Anni, well, she’s occupied with her own romance, too. Besides, she’s forbidden to set foot here under her tyrant brother’s orders.
I swear he enjoys ordering people around. Whenever I attempt to defy him, he turns up the crazy a notch to put me back where he thinks I belong.
Ava punches her open palm, craning her head in the direction of the fighting ring. We’re in the second row on the side, so we have an excellent view, all thanks to her ticket-purchasing talents.
“May Lan beat that arsehole to a pulp and free Anni of his dictatorial reign. Amen.”
I inch closer to her when some guy bumps into me. Ava shoos him away and takes my place, so I’m near the wall. My friend knows full well that I don’t like to be touched, especially suddenly or by strangers.
You don’t mind being fucked to within an inch of your life by Jeremy.
“I don’t hear your amen, Cecy.” Ava gasps. “Or do you want Jeremy to win?”
“What? Of course not.”
I don’t even know what I’m doing watching this match.
There’s been murky water between me and Lan ever since he abused my trust. I deleted the folder I have of his pictures and stopped having stupid feelings for him. As for Jeremy and me, we’re…fuck buddies who share the same kink but don’t have anything else in common.
No clue why that thought fills me with a sense of depression.
As if on cue, Landon strolls to the middle of the ring in a roar of cheers from REU students.
He’s wearing only blue satin shorts and wraps that cover his hands and wrists. The crowd goes nuts and starts cheering and screaming and chanting his name.
A wolfish grin lifts his lips as he flings his arms wide and throws his head back, looking to be in complete euphoria.
“King! King! King!”
Lan was made for showmanship and doesn’t miss a chance to flaunt his superior looks, defined physique, and genius skills.
While most art students are allergic to violence and even sports to protect their hands, Landon punches with the same hands that create masterpieces.
He’s been part of the underground fighting scene since we were in secondary school and didn’t quit at uni.
Not only that, but he’s also the leader of the Elites, and the number one student grades-wise in the whole of REU and TKU combined. He’s been getting some competition from a girl in the American university, but she’s yet to push him off from his first spot.
Lan always makes sure to come out on top, demanding to be worshipped like the god he thinks himself to be.
And while I ignored those narcissistic traits in the past, they make me uncomfortable now. Especially as I watch him bite his lip, enjoying every chant, every admiration.
It hits me then.
Lan never belonged to anyone but himself.
“Woohoo! Go, Lan! King! King! King!” Ava shouts at the top of her lungs and I shake my head.
She’s too enthusiastic about this.
The commotion from our students partially dies down when TKU’s crowd roars to life.
Jeremy strides to the ring accompanied by Nikolai and a blond man—the guard who told me about his state that day I went to the Heathens’ mansion.
I’ve been fucked continuously by Jeremy for the past two weeks and a few times before that, but this is the first time I’ve see him half naked.