Arran’s Obsession (Body Count, #1)

“The rules,” a male voice boomed over the speaker on the wall above my head.

Barefoot, I trod carefully down the corridor, the yellow lights falling on a dried blood trail going the other way.

“The man who catches a woman and fights off his competition needs to fuck her to claim her. She cannot say no. She can run and lash out,” the man gave a dark laugh, “in fact, it’s better if she does. But once that dick is inside her, it’s game over.”

A shiver ran through me. I gripped my arms over my little black dress, exiting the corridor to the open basement where tonight’s game had already taken place. The concrete expanse fell away, more blood in patches on the floor where men had laid into other men, delivering a beating while they stood over a captured girl. The smell of sweat ghosted through the air, the sense of energy, lust, and need high, even now.

I’d watched it from my bed, reliving memories and caught up in the drama and the spectacle it made. The contest had concluded barely fifteen minutes ago, but people would be fucking to memories of it all night and for weeks to come.

They’d done so to images of me, the gang leader’s girlfriend who’d accidentally found her way into a bout. Who’d needed rescuing, and her man left with no choice but to dive inside and follow his own rules.

The voice returned overhead.

“All cameras but the one above you are offline. No one can hear you but me, Genevieve. No one will come rescue you, no matter how much you scream and beg. Do you understand?”

I gazed up at the blinking camera clamped to the suspended walkway where I’d once climbed and hid.

My throat bobbed. “I understand.”

“There’s my good girl.”

Silence followed.

My skin crawled with fear and the thrill of what I was about to do. Or what would be done to me. I’d been scared of this place after my previous visits. First when I was hunted before Arran could reach me, and second, when Convict wanted to apologise for his part in it.

It was my idea to return here and de-demonise it.

What did it mean that I was already sweating? Already wet in the sexy-as-fuck lingerie I’d chosen for this?

In a repeat of my previous footsteps, I trailed into the locker room and checked my reflection in the mirror—flushed cheeks, strands of my blonde hair escaping my ponytail and sticking to my skin—then swallowed down the last of the mango energy drink I’d clung to like it could somehow save me.

This would be easy. The klaxon would sound, and Arran would be released from wherever he’d caged himself. I’d run. He’d catch me.

He’d fuck me on the hard floor or against a wall.

I took a steadying breath, already lost to the action. Doing this was my suggestion, but Arran had taken care of the details. Happy memories to replace the bad, he’d called it.

Along with some sort of twisted surprise, whatever that meant.

An alarm sounded.

My heart lurched, and I set the drink down on the counter and gave mirror-me one final check. This was it. The second siren to release the men, or single man, in this case, was moments away. I had to get into position.

Leaving the sanctuary of the locker room, I entered the main basement floor and waited in the centre of the space, balanced on the balls of my feet. It felt exposing to be here.

Thrilling, too. Any second now, I’d see him.

With a whomp of reducing power, the lights went out. I was plunged into darkness, startling and fast. Entirely unexpected.

I was afraid of the dark.

My lips parted, and a rush of breath left me. “Arran?” I said. My voice came out as a plaintive little sound, barely louder than the beat of my heart in my ears.

The intercom crackled, but no reply came.

Then the siren poured through the pitch-black, cage locks slid with mechanical groans, and all the hair on my arms rose. I knew how this would go, we’d talked through it, how the basement was locked up—no one could come in if Arran didn’t want them—but my belly still tightened at his shocking doubling down.

And I hadn’t moved an inch.

A thud came from further down the wide space, and I trained my senses on it, splaying out my hands to touch the doorframe at my back. I needed to move, but running flat out would lead me to hit something.

I’d wanted to send Arran as crazy as he made me. I wasn’t planning to go down easy, not at first anyway, but he’d upped the ante, and it sparked alarm that heated me all the more.

Damn him. For all his twisted darkness and for knowing exactly which of my buttons to push.

Open-mouthed and panting, I shut my eyes and let the panic rinse over me then dissipate. I let it become energy instead.

A smile curved my lips.

“Bring it, Daniels,” I whispered.

Another thud from further down the warehouse made me jump. In my mind’s eye, I created a picture of the space. The main wide room. The corridor behind me and to the right that led to locked side rooms then looped back around to the top of the space. The metal gantry that climbed the walls to a suspended walkway over my head.

Extending a hand, I paced on silent feet until I found the wall. The touch startled me, though I’d expected it. All I needed now was to follow it into the corridor, and I’d walk the length of the warehouse in the opposite direction to him.

That was my plan, at least.

A clunk of metal came from directly overhead. I started and crammed a hand to my mouth. There was no way he could be so close. No way he could have climbed up there without me hearing. My breathing deafened my ears, so I held it, focusing hard.

A dragging, rattling sound followed. Some object hitting the metal railing like a kid with a stick at the school gates. Except a thousand times more menacing.

I needed to move.

With a small, shocked inhale, I turned and bolted, both hands out and the picture of the basement in my head. If I reached the wall, I could follow it to the corridor.

Two thuds dead ahead of me pulled me up short. He’d jumped down. In the pitch-black? He could have broken his legs.

I wasn’t waiting to find out if he was hurt.

Swinging around, I skittered away in the opposite direction. Awareness crawled up my spine, anticipation of a hand grabbing me at any second.

“You fear the dark,” a voice chased me.

Was it him? In my fright, I couldn’t be sure. I didn’t stop my footsteps.

“Yet you torment yourself with it,” he continued.

Fuck. It sounded like he was dead ahead of me. How?

I stalled, the cold concrete rough under my bare feet.

“Your fear is pointless. The most dangerous monster out there is the man you fuck every night.”

Now, the voice came from my right.

I skipped a few steps left, trying to make out any shapes in the gloom. The top corner of the tall windows reflected the faintest neon pink from the nightclub sign which was on the corner of the building. With enough time, my eyes would adjust to that light.

A hand snatched mine.

With a shriek, I danced away. Putting my head down, I ran again, though my sense of direction had gone. Fear of hitting a wall slowed me, and I staggered, fingers out, and my senses on high alert.

I touched something unseen and jumped, but it was cold metal. Steps? Silently, I reached out my trembling hand and explored what I’d found. If it was the staircase, I’d climb it. He wouldn’t expect that. Maybe I could even reach the captain’s office above. Hide on the roof.

My fist closed around the angled railing. Success!

Two hands landed on my waist. Abruptly, I was lifted off my feet and slammed back against a hard chest.

Arran. Undeniable. His scent, his touch.

A scream fell from my lips, but I didn’t give up my grip on the railing, tightening my muscles and seeking another handhold. I found one higher up and reached for it, trying to wrench myself away.

“Fight me,” my boyfriend gritted out against my shoulder.

My lips parted at the feel of his hot breath on my skin. A moan fell from my lips, and for a second, his tight hold loosened.

All the opportunity I needed. I kicked out then used the momentum to swing my leg over the railing. It connected with a knock to my ankle, but that was fine, I knew exactly how to scramble over.

But nothing was ever so easy.

Arran snatched me back. I thumped into his body, and his hands instantly moved down to the hem of my dress, yanking it up over my ass.

Still holding the railing, I bucked against him and kicked out. I connected, and he huffed. Not before his fingers twisted into my underwear and shredded it. Grasping my thighs, he bit my ass cheek in retaliation.

Need zapped through me, and my arms burned from the effort of holding myself up. Still, I needed to escape.

His fingertips ghosted around to my core. I went limp. Arran gave up a guttural sound, and I used the distraction to drop into a crouch. It worked. Momentarily, his grip on me failed, and I dove under the metal stairs with a thrill at my success. I rounded on them, wasting no time in sprinting upwards. The stairs rang with my footsteps, instantly joined by a heavier set.

He was faster than me. I wouldn’t get far. But there was somewhere specific I wanted to reach.

At the top, I used the guardrail to lead me to the captain’s office, and I scrambled upwards, right as Arran claimed my upper arm in his fist. He spun me around so we were face to face, his breathing as audible as mine.

“Nice try, but you’re mine now,” he growled then sank his mouth to my throat and sucked.

His fingers wasted no time either, tangling in the dress which was bunched around my waist and wrenching it upwards, parting from the aggressive neck kiss to pull it over my head.

Left in just my bra, I shivered in shock.

We were close enough to where I’d wanted to be. This was where Convict had hunted me. On top of the suspended office, I’d hidden, quaking with real fear and regretting every decision I’d made to infiltrate the club.

It paled in comparison to what my life had become. I was Arran’s now, and he was mine.

I wouldn’t change that for anything.

Arran gripped my rib cage and slid his fingers up into my bra, tearing it off me in the same way he’d done with my knickers. He felt over what he’d done with a grunt of satisfaction then kissed both my breasts and lightly bit on a nipple. At my moan, he picked me up by the thighs. Automatically, I curled my legs around his waist.

“Hold on to me, little maniac,” he ordered.

I tucked my head down and wound my arms around his neck, taking a surprised breath when he began to climb the ladder to the roof. At the top, he crossed to the centre and dropped to his knees.

“This was where you hid.”

A statement rather than the question, but I answered it with a quiet, “Yes.”

He placed me down then backed away for a second, a rush of material telling me he was removing the only clothing he had on. Then he was back by my feet. He parted my knees and shifted into the gap between my legs, prowling up my body and pushing me to lie flat where I’d propped myself up on my elbows.

Arran took both my wrists and extended them above my head.

The blunt end of his dick glided over my soaking-wet core.

“Whenever you remember that night, this is the memory that will replace it. Understand me?”

I couldn’t see his face. But I understood his intent perfectly.

“Me. Here. Now.”

Without waiting, he thrust inside me.

I moaned at the startling pleasure and how he stretched me even only half in. Arran rolled his hips, going deeper with each pass.

With his free hand, he ran down the centre of my form, fucking me with an even rhythm. “This is mine. This body. This woman. This moment in the dark.”

My eyes rolled back, and I focused on breathing, the pooling desire too great.

“No one else has a part in it,” he continued. “It’s my fucking game with my future wife.”

My shocked breath turned into a moan, and he hit somewhere deep inside that sent sparks along every vein.

He’d talked about marrying me both in private and to the assembled masses before tonight’s real game. They’d cheered. I’d concealed a thrill.

“Put a ring on it,” I quipped.

Arran stilled. Picked up my hand. He placed a ring of cool metal onto my fourth finger, interlacing his hand with mine after. I gave a mewl because his act had boosted the blooming need until I hung over a precipice.

“Done. Marry me,” he demanded.

An orgasm built of terror and desperation broke over me, knocking me out so words were impossible, though I never lost my connection with the ring enclosing my finger. Arran groaned out and thickened inside me then pulsed, following me over the edge.

My mind spun in dizzying circles, just as my smile spread.

Arran collapsed down, breathing just as hard. “Answer me,” he demanded.

I uttered a laugh. He’d done this on purpose. Timed the moment of asking to combat my fear and replace it with a far better memory.

“Yes,” I gasped. “I’ve never wanted anything else as much as I do you. You’re mine forever.”

He hugged me hard, and at last, in the dark, I settled in peace.

Laughing, kissing, staying close together, we groped around for our clothes, finding all but my underwear which only amused us more. Then hand in hand, we exited the dark basement. Finally in the light, I could examine my ring. A diamond on a platinum band. It sparkled like the choker around my throat, and I stared for a long minute, hypnotised by the pretty stone.

“Do we tell people or keep it as our secret for a little while?” I asked.

“Your choice. I don’t want to share you with anyone, but at the same time want them all to know.”

From further along the corridor, a shout hailed us.

Cassie ran up, her eyes wide but amusement there, too. She peeked between us, talking fast. “Sorry to interrupt. We have a situation.”

Instantly, Arran’s spine stiffened. “Talk to me.”

On instinct, I twisted the ring so the stone faced my palm. Whatever was coming, I knew we could handle it. I had him and he had me. We were unstoppable.

“Shade’s naked and stuck in a room upstairs. He needs your help.”