Arran’s Obsession (Body Count, #1)

Voices filtered in from the living room to the bedroom—Arran on a video call with a client, his third. He’d been working since his friend brought our possessions, and it was nearly dawn.

I’d got my phone back, along with a warning that all communications were monitored here, and had tried Dad with no reply. Nor had he messaged. On the other hand, my brother had tried to call me a couple of times over the weekend then sent a single text saying he’d gone home but where the fuck was I?

Good question, brother.

I rang him. This time, he answered.

“At last,” I said.

“It’s four in the fucking morning. Where are you?” Riordan asked.

“Staying at a friend’s. Sorry if I woke you. Any sign of Dad?”

“Had to get up for work soon anyway. Nothing from Dad. I drove around all his usual haunts and asked after him. Nothing.”

“I did that, too. He should’ve shown up by now.”

My brother cracked a bottle and took a swig. He had a thing for freezing cold water. Room temperature made him grumpy like it was a personal affront. “He’s done three weeks in the past. Remember when he got a windfall and went on a bender with friends? I picked him up from hospital.”

I sank against the pillows. “He doesn’t have any money this time. At least not that I know of, and he’s rubbish at keeping secrets. Where could he be? I’ve racked my brains and have no idea.”

“Same. I tried the police and the hospitals, too. Nothing, and no unidentified bodies. Thank fuck.”

My heart ached. “I didn’t even let myself go there. I’m worried.”

As flaky as Dad could be, he loved us. He’d loved Mum, too. He often said.

My brother went quiet. “I saw the eviction notice. What the fuck has he been doing with our rent?”

“I don’t know. I don’t have the faintest idea how we’re going to pay that amount.”

“I’m paying Moniqua’s rent. I can’t swing much more our way than I already am.”

I clamped my jaw to stop my retort about his freeloading girlfriend because that wasn’t the point. Paying the missing rent wasn’t on him. “I have my savings⁠—”

“No. Don’t you dare. I’ll come up with something.”

My brother was the only person who really supported my dream to follow in Mum’s footsteps and go into nursing. He’d tried to give me money from overtime in his construction job, but I’d never accepted. He found other ways, though. Buying our food and paying bills without me knowing. It meant I could save most of my hourly wage. I had it all hidden away. If we had no other choice, I’d use it.

“Who’s the friend?” he said suddenly.

“What?”

“You said you’re staying with someone. Far as I know, you don’t have any friends.”

“Mind your own business.”

“If it’s a guy, I need a name.”

Cassie’s comment about overprotective brothers came back to me. “Why?”

“So I can make sure he isn’t a scumbag. I know people in the city, most I wouldn’t want anywhere near you.”

Presumably from hanging around with Moniqua. “Still not telling you.”

“Just tell me it isn’t Don. I don’t pay much mind to that fucktard, but Moniqua said he made a remark about you. I haven’t seen him around but I’ll break his fucking face if he tries anything. He’s seriously bad news.”

So was the gang leader keeping me prisoner. I shuddered at a strange thought—if Don was looking for me still, somehow, I was far safer here than at home.

“It isn’t him.”

“Good. By the way, what the fuck happened to my leather jacket?”

Making excuses, I got off the call. I could’ve asked him for help, but Riordan would hate Arran on sight. The picture that painted in my mind was red with a bloodbath.

For his part, Arran thought I was affiliated with a rival gang. I’d watched his face fall then his attitude change, and I didn’t have the faintest clue of how to fix this.

Worse—I wanted to. Badly. His lack of faith made me inexplicably sad. It made no sense considering trust between us had never risen beyond a base level, but it was there and insistent. Just as much as the desire that haunted me.

I tried to ignore him by losing myself in my phone.

Mum’s death and us moving to Dad’s city lost me my friendship group, so I was lacking a bestie to chat with, but I was in a group with people starting the college course I was desperate to attend. Even their conversation couldn’t stop me from noticing Arran and getting stuck on watching him.

Between calls, he’d pace the suite, visible through a gap in the double doors. Every time, I’d stare at his shape. Imagine him inside me. Frustration filled every inch of my needy body.

“I don’t accept that,” the man on the other end of the video call was saying. His voice had got louder throughout the call. “If this woman really was yours and she went into the game in error, why does nobody seem to know about her? Your team should never have let her pass. It doesn’t add up.”

“What I’m telling you is the truth,” Arran stated.

“Where is she, then? This female you’re so obsessed with. Something fishy’s going on, and I call bullshit, Mr Daniels.”

Arran’s sigh came so heavily.

Jumping up, I marched to the doors, and pushed them fully open. At a desk beside the shuttered window and wearing his skeleton bandanna around his neck, Arran reclined in a chair, the client peering at him from a screen.

Arran’s gaze linked to mine. His eyes darkened, and desire shot through me in a lightning bolt. I didn’t wait for permission, continuing until I was right in front of him. He adjusted his position, and I sat on his knee and smiled for the watcher.

“Hello, Mr…?”

The man scrutinised me, his smart suit cluing me in to him being the business type. Nothing like Arran’s rough-and-ready style. I didn’t recognise him at all, but that didn’t mean much. My memories were selective.

“William Hang. I remember you, Miss.”

“I’m sure you do. It was a shocking night.”

Arran’s arm eased around me, and he gripped my waist. A full-body shiver came over me, and I peeked back to find his expression casual.

“You hid for most of it,” Mr Hang continued.

“I wasn’t meant to be there. The doorman got me confused with a woman who looks very much like me. It was terrifying.”

“How is it you didn’t know? How did you never hear what your boyfriend gets up to in his spare time?” There was disbelief in his tone, but his expression was more pondering.

“It was only the second time I’ve ever visited the club. Arran always came to me.”

Arran’s hand moved to my bare knee. I parted my legs and smiled at his intake of air.

Mr Hang considered that. “Tell me, is he treating you right? Upholding every part of what he’s supposed to? I wondered because the terms of the game bind him, even if neither of you intended to be in there. It would be an outrage if he failed.”

Jeez, they all took it so seriously. Realisation followed quickly. I had the chance to destroy his reputation in one sentence, except I was enjoying being close to him.

Lightly, I ground on Arran, riding his thigh, increasingly mindless for the chance of relief by his body. Arran’s hand on my knee drifted upwards, grazing my sensitive skin.

Just a few more inches until he reached where I needed him to be. If he tugged my clothes aside and made a few passes over my slick centre, I’d tumble into utter pleasure.

My heart thundered. Even if this was just an act, one I’d initiated, I needed nothing more than him.

Arran squeezed my thigh, and I stifled a moan. Then I remembered I’d been asked a question.

“He’s giving me everything I deserve.”

Mr Hang took a deep breath, and his lips curved. “I can see that from just one glimpse at the pair of you. In no time, you’ll be fully bonded and at that final stage. I wish you both the best, even if I confess my absolute envy. Well, Mr Daniels, I trust that errant doorman has been taken care of?”

“Of course.”

“Then I accept your offer and extend my congratulations to you and your claimed woman. Until next time.”

He disconnected, and the screen went to a holding platform, quiet falling across the room.

Neither of us moved.

“You lie well,” Arran said.

“I didn’t lie at all. What happened to the doorman?”

He made no reply, his hands on my body but still.

“What did you offer your client?” I tried instead. Maybe he’d give me to Mr Hang once he was through.

“To run the game again sooner than I’d planned. He’ll get a second chance for free.”

“What did he mean by the final stage to us being fully bonded? I thought the restrictions between us only lifted.”

He rose from the seat, standing me with him, then moved several deliberate feet away. “We won’t be doing it so you don’t need to know.”

“Can you tell me anyway?”

“No.” He folded his arms.

I glowered, not at all put off. “Fine. I’ll find out another way.”

“Don’t bother, you won’t like it. But if you’re so keen to get involved in my business, you can help with the next call.”

He wanted my help. A small flame of hope kindled inside me. “Who are we talking to?”

“Natasha Reid, the woman you impersonated.” There was a challenge in his eyes.

I wrinkled my nose but summoned my strength. “This one should be mine anyway. I owe her an apology.”

“You’re astonishing, Genevieve.”

An answer stuck in my throat. He didn’t mean it in a good way, but I wished he did.

Retaking our seats, he clicked into a contact list, and the video call blipped with a dial tone. A woman answered, her fair hair and heart-shaped face so like mine I stared.

Likewise, she blinked at me. “You’re the woman who took my place.”

I shrugged. “In the flesh. I can see now how the mistake was made.”

Her gaze travelled over the screen like she was taking me in. “That’s what the other man said when I called. He told me you were mistakenly shown into the claiming ground in my place.”

“True. I had no idea what was going on.”

Her eyes crinkled at the edges. “I’d like to believe you, but I wonder if you have another agenda.”

For a moment, I lost my train of thought. Nobody had asked me if I was okay. Arran assumed I’d been there on purpose. I’d upset Cassie and Summer, so neither had been forthcoming. Now this woman automatically assumed there was a further purpose.

“I don’t, but thank you for hearing my explanation. I apologise for taking your place.”

Her expression didn’t change, but her focus shifted to Arran at my back. “Your colleague said that you’d made a claim. I’m devastated at missing out. You and I would have been good together. If I’d known you were in there, I would’ve fought tooth and claw for you. I’d never have dared be fashionably late.”

My jaw dropped, and outrage swept through me. “Watch your mouth. You’re talking to a taken man. He claimed me, and that makes him mine.”

If she wanted teeth and claws, I had them in spades.

Natasha’s cheeks pinkened. “I deserved that. I accept the offer of being in the next game. Got to go.”

She disconnected, and I exhaled annoyance. The cheek of her.

Then I became aware of Arran’s hands at my waist. They eased around the front of my jean shorts and popped the button.

“Hang reminded me of another obligation we haven’t discussed. Do you know your bank account details?”

“Yes, why?” I had the same account that Mum had opened for me when I was eleven.

“Tell me.”

He lowered my zip.

Half mindless, I recited my account number and sort code. Arran paused to make a note.

“Lift your ass,” he ordered in a low and delicious tone.

I obeyed, and he stripped my shorts from me, keeping me facing away, perched on his knee. Desire heated my blood, my clit throbbing, the anticipation an overload of sinful need.

I peered back to see him free his rock-hard erection, though he made no attempt to stroke it. We were due our daily sex act, and maybe this time would be different. If I was riding him, I’d be the one in control.

But the expression in his eyes gave me pause.

Arran stood and crowded me to the wall like he’d done yesterday, forcing me to face away.

“Who was in the car the night I came to your flat?” he asked in my ear. “You were scared.”

“Don, he’s a relative of my brother’s girlfriend,” I replied instantly.

“Did you know the woman who was murdered on your street?”

Distress chased my good feelings. My fingers shook. “Cherry is her name. Was, I mean. I spoke to her the night before she died.”

His dick slid between my legs. “What did she say?”

“She mentioned a client who was a city councillor and a friend of his she didn’t like. They were both due to see her the night she died.”

“Get any names?”

“No. What are you going to do about it? I want to be part of⁠—”

With a punch of his hips, he entered me, no warning, no easy slide. A hit of violence my body readily absorbed despite his thick size.

Just as happened last time, I didn’t hide a moan, my pussy squeezing him tight.

If only he’d drive me into the wall with a few more hard thrusts, the pleasure would crest and break. The tension holding me taut would be over.

Arran exhaled, his breath ghosting over my shoulders.

Precious seconds passed, the tension almost hurting. Pressure pinning me down just as much as he was spearing me in two. My toes curled in the rug, and I flexed to press up on the balls of my feet, the slight movement so good.

Then the bastard pulled out and walked away, leaving me utterly desperate in every way.

I crept back to bed with heavy emotions boiling in my blood. My body needed to get off, but I couldn’t with him right there, decidedly not participating. I’d tried yesterday and failed.

My phone chimed with a notification. My bank. Money added.

I opened the app and stared at the screen. All those numbers. He’d deposited twenty grand. Anger rushed. “What the hell is this?” I yelled.

From the other room, he spoke calmly. “As my woman, you’re due a stipend.”

“I get twenty grand for the pleasure of you imprisoning me?”

“Every week.”

My words dried up entirely. That kind of money was life-changing. I could pay the missing rent. Get my own place to live where I wasn’t dependant on Dad. Help Riordan so he didn’t need to work so many hours.

Yet in no universe was I taking Arran’s blood money.

With a stab of my finger and an ache in my gut, I reversed the payment.

The same happened the next day.

We slept the daylight away, he worked, we ran, he sent me money which I refunded, then he fucked me with that solitary, vow-keeping thrust. Nothing more, no matter what I needed.

And the day after. A pattern formed.

I didn’t ask to see anyone, knowing Cassie would’ve poisoned the rest of the household against me. I messed around on my phone, idling over stories from students who’d done my nursing degree.

Arran noticed. “You want to be a nurse?”

I put my phone face down on the sofa. “Hard to do that from prison.”

His lips twitched. “Seriously. Are you meant to be studying?”

“No,” I reluctantly replied. “Eventually I will, but I haven’t signed up yet.”

He took his seat at the desk. “One of our most interesting couples to come out of the game included a surgeon. She was thirty-five and in a killer career. She didn’t want kids but badly wanted to be owned and possessed.”

I leaned in, intrigued. “Did she come to your office and tell you that?”

“Video call, but yes. She was time poor but had an opportunity in her career ladder to take a month out.”

“Who caught her?”

“An MMA fighter. Savage asshole with a big personality and a liking for violence. On paper, they couldn’t be more different.”

I tried and failed to gel the two in my head. “But they worked out?”

“She and her claimer are deeply in love and happy. Look them up, if you want.”

He provided a name. I tapped it into my phone, bringing back results for the surgeon. Her medical brilliance was side by side with results for her fiancé’s social media photos and videos. She was pretty, with long auburn hair, and most of her pictures of her in scrubs or suits. He was tattooed and half naked in all his.

In the pictures of them together, there was a strange kind of middle ground. A shirt on him. A spiked necklace on her. The top result was their engagement announcement which he’d made at the end of a fight, bloodied, sweaty, and strangely compelling.

“They’re engaged?” I said slowly, then raised my head. “When did you run their game?”

“November.”

I reread the article with their announcement. It came in December, which meant they’d reached the one-month mark and put a ring on it.

The final stage was a ring offered on bended knee, then. At least that wouldn’t happen to me.

I closed the search down and picked a book from the shelves in the living room instead. But I couldn’t ease my Arran-shaped distraction. He filled my senses and dominated every thought.

The only time I got anything from him was when he was inside me. Held me for that moment. Laid a kiss on my throat or asked a question.

My desperation grew to dizzying proportions until there was only one option for me to break the deadlock.

Unseeing, I stared at the pages, a plan forming.

I just had to find a way to offer.