Fake Destiny

Chapter 4: Shadows

THE YOUNG MASTER POV

I watched her from the shadows, as I always do, her body moving to a rhythm only she could hear. The faint light from the chandelier flickered, casting shadows over her skin as she swayed.

There was something almost... hypnotic about the way she danced, though she did it for me. She knew I was there. She knew what I wanted.

Her movements were a mix of grace and desperation, like a bird trapped in a cage, trying to convince itself that it was free.

She cried, but her tears never seemed to stop her from moving, from performing. That’s what she was now, nothing more than a dancer in my twisted little world. Her body was a tool, a way to satisfy needs I never asked to have. Needs that I couldn’t explain.

I stood at the door, watching her, wondering when exactly I’d become so obsessed with her. There had been countless women before her, beautiful, willing, obedient. But with her, it was different. She was... mine.

The idea of anyone else touching her, looking at her, even thinking about her, enraged me in ways I couldn’t fully comprehend.

I crossed the room without thinking, my steps silent as I approached her, and I felt the shift in her body the moment I reached her. The way she stiffened, the slight tremor in her hands, as if she knew what was coming next.

"Stop," I ordered in a low voice.

Her body froze, and I didn’t wait for her to obey. I stepped forward, my hands coming to her waist, guiding her closer, feeling the softness of her skin beneath my fingers.

She was trembling, but I didn’t care. She always trembled. She was so used to it by now, so used to me.

I lowered my lips to her back, tracing a slow, possessive path from her shoulder blade to the curve of her spine. She flinched, but I could feel her pulse beneath my touch, her body betraying her even as she tried to distance herself from the sensations I was forcing upon her.

I kissed her skin again, this time a little harder, a little more demanding. Her breath hitched, and I could hear the quiet sobs she tried to swallow down.

She hated me, I could feel it. She despised every touch, every word that came from my mouth. But she never fought me. Not anymore.

I didn’t even realize what I was doing until I felt myself growing impatient. The usual pull, the hunger that surged within me, was building faster than it should have.

I could hear the mocking words of one of my previous... companions echoing in my mind. She had laughed, said something about how I never “c*m” anymore, about how I was always so distant.

It was supposed to be a passing thought, something to brush off. But it gnawed at me. That simple comment made my hands tighten around her waist. The anger, the frustration I’d been trying to suppress for days, weeks, months, came flooding back, and it was like a dam breaking.

I didn’t care anymore. I didn’t care about her pleas or the way her body shook with fear.

I lifted her up roughly, throwing her over my shoulder with little care for how she landed. Her body sagged, but I didn’t feel any pity. She wasn’t a person to me anymore. She was an object. My object.

Without a second thought, I tossed her onto the bed, her body bouncing slightly with the impact. She gasped, her eyes wide with terror, but there was no escape. Not here and definitely not from me.

I climbed onto the bed, moving over her like a predator closing in on its prey. She wasn’t screaming. She wasn’t fighting, not as much as she used to. But I could see the tears welling in her eyes. That used to bother me, but not anymore. Now, it just made me angry.

I kissed her again, this time not gently, not with any semblance of tenderness. I could feel the rush of heat inside me, the way my chest tightened with every touch, every movement. I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop.

But there was a part of me that hated how much I wanted her. I hated the way she made me feel like this, like I couldn’t control myself.

Her body was still trembling beneath mine, and I could feel the little gasp she let out when I touched her more forcefully than before. It wasn’t the first time she’d cried in front of me. It wouldn’t be the last. And I didn’t care.

I didn’t know what I was doing, why I was so drawn to her, why nothing else seemed to fill the emptiness inside me. I’d had women before. I’d had pleasure before. But none of it ever felt like this. None of them made me feel like I needed them the way I needed her.

But it wasn’t love. I didn’t believe in love. I didn’t even understand why I felt this... possessiveness. She wasn’t special. She wasn’t worth this. But she was mine. And that thought made something in me burn.

I thrust her harder, feeling the anger rise up in me again. It was like a switch had been flipped, and I couldn’t turn it off. My hands gripped her wrists, pinning them above her head as I loomed over her. Her body was still trembling beneath me, her eyes wide, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

I could feel the fire of my rage consuming me, and I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to. I didn’t want her to escape.

But in the back of my mind, I felt a sense of guilt. Something was gnawing at me, but I couldn’t place it. It wasn’t like me to keep coming back to the same girl. I usually didn’t. I wasn’t the type to get attached. But with her...

It was different. I couldn’t explain it, and it pissed me off that I couldn’t control it.

The next few minutes blurred together in a haze of my frustration and desire, a storm inside me that wouldn’t calm down. By the time I was finished, her body was bruised beneath mine, a stark reminder of the power I had over her.

But even then, even as she lay there, broken and trembling, I couldn’t walk away.

Because even though I hated myself for feeling this way, there was something in me that refused to let her go. And it scared me.

I looked down at her, my breath ragged, and saw the blood on the sheets. It wasn’t the first time of her bleeding because of how rough the s*x went and I didn’t care.

I wasn’t the man she thought I was. And I never would be. But she would never be free of me. Not now. Not ever.