He had planned for her obsession, certainly. He wanted to secure her peerless power, her undying love, her blind loyalty.
But this wasn't a controlled attachment.
This was a woman cracked wide open. Her sanity was fraying into loose threads right in front of him, and he was the bastard holding the scissors.
Still, her pillowy lips wouldn't cease their assault.
She kissed him again—and again—and again. She whispered that same manic chant like a dark, cursed prayer between every wet slide of her tongue.
"Mine… mine… mine… m-mine…"
The soft undersides of her breasts squished flush against his pecs with every downward press. The emerald aura pulsed in perfect rhythm with her racing heartbeat—bright, blindingly alive, and utterly defiant of the inferno raging outside their little dome.
While his brain struggled to process the sensual and terrifying weight of the monster he had just birthed, a semi-transparent blue screen chimed to life in his vision.
