Captive Bride: A Dark Obsession Romance

by Dark Angel

  Not now.

  Not after Tristan.

  I wish that I could explain everything to them, that I could set their minds at ease. For the time being though, I’m powerless to do so.

  Once father finds out I’m gone, no one will be at ease.

  The thought of my father has my heart pounding in my chest. It’s all well and good that Tristan thinks he can find a way of making this work, but he doesn’t know my father. His reputation alone could never properly explain the man.

  He is ruthless.

  Fearless.

  Cruel.

  He’ll stop at nothing to get me back.

  He’ll tear Tristan to shreds if he so much as gets the chance. No amount of pleading will calm his need for revenge.

  And me?

  My love won’t be so much as a blip on his radar. He’d have me back in the hands of the Governor before I could even speak of it.

  My blood runs like ice through my veins.

  No matter what happens, I can’t allow my father to win. I’ve found something here that I could never even imagine. Love and freedom were only silly words before now.

  We can’t let him rip this away from us. Without it, we’d have nothing left.

  I suddenly find myself before a door, the courtyard shimmering brightly through the glass.

  Tristan is there with his cousins. All my kidnappers are here in one place.

  I smile, my heart lurching in my chest.

  He turns his head towards me, sensing my presence in a way I can’t explain. He seems to have forgotten his phone on his ears as he finds me.

  His eyes meet mine, and the horrors raging through my own head become quiet.

  His effect on me is intense and immediate, hope building in the remains of fear.

  I twist the knob and step out into the courtyard with a sense of relief.

  “Yes,” he says into his phone. “Yes, I understand.”

  I close the distance between us, needing to feel his touch again, needing the safety that only his arms seem to offer. The arm not supporting his phone snakes around me, pulling me tightly against the solid expanse of his chest.

  “Okay, I’ll talk to you then,” he says, his words muffling as he lowers his mouth to my head.

  I hear the beep of the ending call and wrap my arms around him, pulling him towards me to seal any space between us.

  “Is everything okay?” he asks me.

  I can only nod.

  I have no idea what is or isn’t okay at this point.

  Our worlds may erupt at any moment.

  “Everything’s perfect,” I say, burying my face into his chest.

  Sure, there’s fear and desperation, panic, and certainly the threat of death. Despite those things though, I truly mean what I say.

  In this moment, everything is absolutely perfect.

  18

  Tristan

  I feel her heart beating against my chest.

  Slow and steady, its rhythm synchronizing with my own.

  I breathe deeply, her scent washing over me in waves.

  It’s all I can do not to trap her as she steps away from me. Her eyes meet my own as she does, pulling me into the endless blue depths that swim there.

  Isobel.

  Yesterday, I had no idea that she even existed. Today, she consumes me entirely.

  Twenty-four hours ago, I didn’t believe in love. I only believed in lust. Raw, angry, passionate, but fleeting.

  Before today, I had never felt the insistent pull that now tethers my heart to her own.

  I spent my life surrounded by violence and dread.

  Then somehow, this morning, I woke up filled with hope.

  Millions of foreign ideas dance in my mind with every simple glance in her direction. Thoughts of love and happiness, a future free from bloodshed.

  Things I would never even have conceived before as possible.

  I only have to look into those eyes to know it.

  As she looks back at me, I feel my thoughts echoing in her stare.

  I’m not the only one who’s been a victim of being born to a famous crime family. Isobel knows that pain as well. Maybe that’s what draws us together—or maybe it’s something else entirely.

  I don’t know the cause, only the effect that it’s taken on my once hardened heart.

  I am hers.

  She is mine.

  Mine.

  I break from my thoughts, looking around the courtyard.

  Benny and Merc are watching us silently, different emotions playing across their faces.

  Benny wears a look that somewhat resembles relief. I know that he’s happy to see what Isobel means to me, no matter the implications.

  Merc, of course, looks more than a little hesitant.

  I really can’t blame him. We all know what our relationship might mean.

  Their stares weigh heavily on me, intruding on a moment that I suddenly feel we should be alone for.

  “Come with me,” I say, grasping her hand firmly in mine.

  She doesn’t resist or fight me. Instead, she simply grips my hand in return, legs already moving to match pace with mine.

  I steer us away from the courtyard and towards the tree line marking the woods.

  I know exactly where we should go.

  We cross underneath the evergreen canopy in a rush, the crunch of pine needles sharp in the still morning air.

  It’s still early. The woods and its inhabitants are only starting to climb slowly from their storm-induced slumber.

  “Where are we going?” she asks, looking around curiously.

  “Just trust me,” I answer.

  Her black slip dress offers little protection from the elements. Every so often, water droplets fall from the surrounding pines and onto her bare skin. Her feet are shod in thin slippers, occasionally sliding on the wet undergrowth.

  Still, she doesn’t ask any more questions. She doesn’t demand to know our destination.

  She trusts me to lead her as I’ve asked, a fact that sends affection soaring through my chest.

  We walk for several more minutes, content in the silence that settles comfortably between us, before we reach the clearing.

  This is my own version of an oasis. Tucked deep into the forest, it’s a place where I can come and be alone.

  Today I don’t want to be alone, though.

  I may never want to be alone again.

  Today I want to share this place with her, as I want to share everything.

  I hear her laugh beside me as she finally sets eyes on our destination.

  “It’s…a shooting range?” she asks.

  I turn to her, smiling. “Ever done this before?”

  She laughs again, louder this time. “Are you kidding? Of course not.”

  I pull her over to the range itself, excitement building in my chest.

  “Why not?” I ask, though I know already.

  “You saw the way I lived. I wasn’t even trusted to go outside. You think they’d give me a gun?”

  I nod, encouraging her to continue.

  “I spent my whole life surrounded by armed guards. They got to have the guns, not me.”

  “You think they didn’t trust you?” I ask.

  She rolls her eyes.

  “Of course they didn’t trust me. My father probably thought I’d be just as likely to turn a gun on myself as to use it for protection. I was their prisoner. You don’t give prisoners weapons.”

  “I’m sorry,” I offer, knowing the words are small but needing to speak them anyway.

  “I hate them,” she says. “I hate every last one of them. Especially my father. How could he do that to me?”

  “I don’t know,” I say, because I truly I don’t.

  I know that our families are mad for power, but some things seem beneath them.

  “I don’t know how your family could do the things they do or mine for that matter. It’s funny how we were brought up differently,” I say. “You’re a captive, and I�
��m a killing machine.”

  We sigh as one, our desperation radiating through the sound.

  “I thought my family would destroy me completely,” I continue. “Before I met you, this is really the only safe place I had left. I would just spend hours here, venting all of this rage through shooting. That’s why I brought you here. I think it might help you, too.”

  She looks at me in surprise before directing her gaze back to the shooting range.

  “I don’t know...” she trails off.

  “Trust me,” I say, reaching behind me to free my gun from its holster.

  I offer it to her with the grip facing her, and smile as she takes it without further question.

  She turns it in her hands, eyes raking across it slowly.

  The gun is ornate, one of a kind.

  Delicate etchings trace the silver barrel, spiraling towards the grip.

  A quote is inscribed across its length.

  She reads it aloud, her fingers tracing the words.

  “These violent delights have violent ends,

  and in their triumph die, like fire and powder

  Which, as they kiss, consume...”

  Her eyes are filled with tears when she looks at me, a grave fire, passion and power warring for dominance within them.

  “Show me,” she says.

  I step behind her, my arms wrapping tightly around her slight form.

  I position the gun properly between her hands, guiding her finger to the trigger as I do.

  “Ready?” I ask.

  She nods.

  Together, we squeeze the trigger, the roar of gunfire erupting through the quiet of the forest.

  Her body tenses at the first eruption, and visibly relaxes by the second.

  After the third shot, I release my hold on her, trusting her to continue alone.

  I step back, watching her in fascination.

  It’s unclear if she even knows I’ve moved, with her attention focused unwaveringly at the target ahead and her finger squeezing repeatedly at the trigger.

  Holes blast across the target in quick succession, splintered bits flying wildly about the range.

  Her lips pull back, half sneering.

  Power washes off her in waves.

  A fire erupts in her eyes, seeming to burn through the normal cool blue of her gaze. The look is completely foreign on her face, though it’s one which I’m quite familiar with.

  I see it often.

  Every day, in fact.

  In the mirror.

  19

  Isobel

  There’s a break in the clouds, and the sun is shining through.

  It’s been a stormy week at the mansion, both figuratively and literally.

  Every night that I’ve been here, Tristan has come to my room and devoured me.

  There’s passion burning between us that’s unbreakable and indefinable. Sometimes, he drags me back to his bedroom. Sometimes, we do it in mine.

  The location doesn’t seem to matter. All that matters to me is that my heart now beats for this one man, this person.

  He’s taught me the ropes, the throes of passion, and there’s no escaping the heat now.

  Right now, I’m walking the grounds by myself. The sunshine feels good on my skin. It’s been nice to get out every day just to explore the surrounding forest in the overgrown gardens.

  It’s a reality that’s in stark contrast to my time being a Capulet princess locked in the tower. The only outside air I was able to breathe was from my balcony, which I used to think about jumping from every single day of my life.

  But all that has changed now because of Tristan.

  Every morning and afternoon, I take a walk around the mansion. He seems to trust me, knowing that I won’t run away, that I won’t run from him anymore.

  Besides, even if I wanted to escape, there’s really nowhere to go. We’re so far out in the middle of nowhere I wouldn’t know which way to turn.

  And I know what’s good for me. I know that staying with Tristan is the right idea. I feel like I can trust him. He continually reminds me of that.

  This is what being in love means. Our two hearts beat as one. He knows what I’m thinking before I say it.

  There’s this unspoken connection between us that’s fiery and passionate and overwhelming. My entire life revolves around him, and it feels good.

  I walk through the wet grass with my tall rain boots and my slip dress on, a blanket around my shoulders like a shawl. It feels so fucking good to get fresh air, and I realize what I’ve been missing out on my entire life.

  My father and mother might’ve kept me hidden away in the sky rise; they might’ve afforded me every luxury, presents, and a glamorous life. But I was never allowed to leave. It was a virtual fortress, and I just can’t believe how good it feels to get away from there.

  Tristan’s guys have shown up, and there are bodyguards everywhere. The war is still looming.

  Merc and Benny and I get along really well. They’re nice. Merc is somewhat darker than Benny, but Benny always makes me feel at ease. I guess you could say we’re becoming friends.

  I trudge through the mud and grass, and it feels so refreshing to get some fresh air and to get dirty. I didn’t realize how much I’ve been missing out on in nature.

  The birds swoop into a distant lake to catch their prey, and I think how I’ve been caught. I am Tristan’s prey. I know he’ll never let me go or be in danger for a second, but he has caught me.

  At least this is what I tell myself. I know he’s good at his job, he’s good at what he does. But that doesn’t change the fact that there’s a Capulet and Montague war that’s been ignited.

  Tristan made the first move, and I imagine my father and his gangsters are searching the streets for me everywhere. I imagine they would kill Tristan if they found us.

  This is the sad truth, and the truth I try to forget about every day. I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to think about any more sadness or anything upsetting. I’m too perfectly happy out here with him.

  I can see the bodyguards watching me from a distance. Tristan insists I have privacy and time to roam around the grounds. He knows it’s important for me to get out, considering all the years I was held in captivity.

  So I spend the afternoon roaming and hiking around the place. When dusk starts to fall, I head back to the mansion, knowing Tristan will be worried if I don’t get inside soon.

  We have dinner every night, and tonight is no exception. He’s hired a private chef and everything. It’s just going to be the two of us dining, and it sends flutters through my entire body to think of having time with him alone.

  Maybe he’s thinking about revealing his ultimate plan to me. As of now, he’s kept me in the dark, not wanting me to know just in case people try to get information out of me later.

  I trudge back to the house just as the sun is starting to set, and I see Tristan standing outside waiting for me. He looks so hot and rugged set against the gothic mansion.

  I walk towards him, and a smile breaks out across his face.

  “How is it that you can look so fucking gorgeous wearing nothing but your nightgown and boots, covered in mud?”

  His words make me blush a little. Even though we’re in love, I’m never entirely comfortable around him because he sets my world on fire. I’m always on high alert, tuned into what he wants and needs and desires.

  This is how it feels to be fused with another person.

  “Hi,” I say, raising myself up on tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. “Today was a great day. The sun was shining, and it felt so good.”

  He envelops me in his arms and kisses me long and hard.

  Every day with Tristan I find my self-esteem and confidence rising. I’ve always been pretty okay with who I am, but he’s teaching me how to be strong.

  In addition to my walks around the gardens and the grounds, Tristan takes me out to the little place in the woods, and we have target practice with his gun that’s ins
cribed with those poetic words.

  I find that shooting is a nice release. It’s like the ultimate escape. Who knew shooting a gun could be an escape in itself.

  When I hold it, I feel powerful. When his arms are wrapped around me, teaching me how to use it, I feel like everything’s going to be okay like I can protect myself in his absence.

  “No target practice today?” I ask him.

  His eyes turn serious, and I don’t know why.

  He says, “No. I had some other things to attend to today. I hope you had a nice time outside.”

  “I did. But I missed you.”

  “Why don’t you go get ready for dinner? The chef’s gonna be here soon, and I have something to talk to you about.”

  I look into his eyes searching for an answer. I feel worried all of a sudden.

  What could he possibly have to tell me that’s so important? Why can’t he just tell me now?

  I just want to continue living in this ideal environment, being happy. I don’t want outside news or anything to upset me. I’m not ready to let go of this life.

  I say none of that, of course.

  “Okay, well I’m just gonna go to my room to get ready for dinner. I’ll be down in about an hour.”

  He’s solemn and serious as ever, and it makes me feel unbalanced. Usually, he’s not so sober with me.

  I walk past him and lightly trace his rippling abs as I go by. It never gets old.

  Every part of his body is rock hard. He’s like a beast of a man and I can’t get enough.

  I walk the many steps it takes to get to my room. I’m up in the tower, and my place is not that far away from Tristan’s.

  The bodyguards watch me as I go by. They’re friendly but stoic all the time, knowing their mission is to protect me.

  Once I get to my room, I slip out of my muddy clothes and into a bath.

  I want to look perfect for Tristan tonight. I always want to look perfect for him.

  I twist my long wavy blonde hair up into a bun so that it doesn’t get wet. I take a quick bath using the special imported lavender soaps he’s bought for me.

  I wash off quickly and think about him the entire time. I have many fantasies about him throughout the day, thinking of the things that I want him to do to me. As it is, most of our action happens at night under the cover of darkness, and that’s the way I like it.