Chapter 4

4

Phix,Call Me Karizma - War

Later that night…

The night air is thick with anticipation, the kind that clings to your skin and seeps into your bones, making your pulse quicken with every breath. It’s the kind of night where the world feels like it’s holding its breath, waiting for something to happen, something dark and irreversible. I can feel it in my veins, a low hum of excitement that thrums just beneath the surface. Tonight is the night I take things one step further with Tatum when it comes to bringing her into my world.

To making her mine.

Physically, she’s already mine. Our parent’s innocent and perfect daughter is no more. Now, she’s ruined and tainted. Imperfect, just like me. But that’s not enough. I want to own her in every fucking way, and I don’t care what it takes.

Tatum is beside me. She’s quiet and tense, her eyes wide as she looks out into the darkness. She doesn’t know what’s coming, not really. She thinks she does, but she’s wrong. She has no idea how deep this goes, how far I’m willing to take her. But she’ll learn.

Tonight , she’ll learn.

We’re at a secluded spot just outside the city, a place I found a long time ago, perfect for getting away. For escaping. It’s isolated, far from prying eyes, and the only sound is the distant hum of the highway and the rustle of leaves in the wind. The moon is high tonight, casting everything in an eerie, silvery light that makes the shadows seem deeper, more menacing.

Everything since what happened this morning has gone fucking perfectly, but as I look at her now, I can see it—the way the high is wearing off, the tension creeping back into her shoulders. The darkness is clouding her eyes again. She’s starting to slip away, and I can’t let that happen. Not tonight. Not after everything we’ve done.

I reach into my pocket, feeling for the small bag of powder with my fingers. She needs this, even if she doesn’t realize it yet. It’ll take the edge off and make everything smooth again. I want to see her like she was this morning—wild, free, and mine .

“Here,” I say, my voice low, coaxing. I pour a small bump onto the back of my hand, holding it out to her. “This will help, Tatum. I can tell you need it.”

She hesitates, her eyes flicking between my hand and my face. I can see the battle raging inside her, the guilt, the desire, the need to numb the pain. She wants to be strong, to resist, but I know her better than that. I know how deep the hurt goes, how much she wants to escape it.

It’s a battle I’ve struggled with more times than I can count.

“Come on, Tatum,” I murmur, my tone gentle but insistent. “Just one more. For me.”

Finally, she caves. Her breath hitches as she leans in and parts her lips. She snorts the line off my hand, and I watch her closely, completely captivated by the way her pupils dilate, and her body relaxes almost instantly as the drug takes its hold. It’s a goddamn beautiful sight. Seeing her give in. Bearing witness to her as she just lets go of everything, for me . Her shoulders drop, the tension melting away, and she looks up at me with those wide, dark eyes, all the fear and doubt fading into the background.

“There you go, baby,” I whisper, brushing a stray hair away from her face. “Feel better now?”

She nods, a slight smile tugging at her lips, but it’s laced with something darker, something desperate. It’s like she’s clinging to the edge, and I’m the only thing keeping her from falling. I’ll keep her here, with me, on the edge of chaos, no matter what it fucking takes.

I lean in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, tasting the salt of her skin feeling the warmth of her breath against my lips. “That’s my girl,” I murmur, knowing that as long as she’s with me, as long as she needs this—needs me—she’ll stay. “You trust me, right?”

“Yes,” she says, but it’s too soft, too uncertain.

“Say it again,” I demand, my tone hardening, making it clear this isn’t a fucking request.

“Yes, I trust you,” she says, stronger this time, but I can still hear the doubt. It’s okay. She’ll learn. She’ll fucking learn.

“Good,” I say, my lips curling into a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes. “Because tonight, you’re going to prove it.”

Her brow furrows in confusion, but she doesn’t ask questions. Not yet. She’s still too scared, too uncertain. I can work with that.

I reach into my back pocket and pull out the blade I brought for tonight. The knife is cold in my hand, the sharp edge gleaming in the moonlight. I see her eyes widen when she sees it, her breath hitching in her throat. She thinks she knows what’s coming, but she has no fucking idea. Tonight will be easy, but this is just the beginning of my plan.

This is just the start of my destruction of everything that holds her together. Everything that hides who she’s really meant to be.

“We’re going to do something,” I say, my voice calm, almost casual. “Something that’ll bond us forever. Something that’ll make you mine in a way even you can never escape.”

She stares at the knife, her face pale and eyes wide, but she doesn’t move, doesn’t run. She’s too far in now, too tangled up in me to break free. And she knows it. That’s the beauty of it.

“What… what are we doing?” she finally asks, her voice barely more than a whisper, but there's an edge to it, a tremor that wasn’t there before.

“You’ll see,” I say, stepping closer, the knife in one hand, my other reaching out to cup her cheek. Her skin is cold, but there’s a flush of heat beneath it, a sign of the adrenaline and the cocaine pumping through her veins. “But first, you need to understand something.”

“What?” she breathes, her eyes darting between mine, searching for answers for some kind of reassurance. She’s jittery and restless, the drugs heightening everything, making her pulse race and her breath quicken.

“That nothing fucking matters but us,” I say, my voice low and deadly serious. “Not the rules, not what’s right or wrong. None of it. The only thing that matters is you and me and what we do together. No one else fucking counts.”

She nods quickly, her pupils blown wide, the doubt still clinging to her but fighting against the high, against the need to trust me, to follow me into this darkness. I need to strip that away, and I need to show her that she belongs to me in every way that matters.

“You say you want this, Tatum,” I say, my thumb brushing over her lips, watching as her breath hitches, her eyes glazing over slightly. “But tonight, you’re going to prove it.”

She doesn’t resist when I guide her toward the trees, her steps slow and hesitant, but her hands twitch at her sides like she’s itching to do something, anything. She’s buzzing. The high from the cocaine working its way through her system. The night is thick with tension, the kind that makes the air feel heavy like it’s pressing down on you from all sides. She glances at me, her eyes wide, pupils dark with fear and maybe a bit of excitement. But she doesn’t ask any more questions.

Not yet.

We reach the spot I’ve chosen, a small clearing hidden from view, surrounded by tall trees and thick underbrush. It’s perfect. No one will find us here. No one will hear what’s about to happen. Not that I’d expect them to. No one ever comes out here, but I’m not taking any risks. Not with her. Not tonight.

I let go of her hand and turn to face her, the knife still in my grip. I see her eyes flick to it, the fear flaring up again, but there’s something else in her gaze now, something sharper, more eager. The drugs have her wired, on edge, but also daring, like she’s ready to jump off a cliff just to feel the rush.

“Tatum,” I say, drawing her attention back to me. “You want this, don’t you? You want to be mine?”

She nods frantically, her eyes flicking back to mine, the fear still there, but something else too. Something darker. Good.

“Yes,” she says, her voice trembling, but there’s a hint of excitement behind it, a spark of something wild and playful. She’s trying to be brave, trying to show me she’s strong enough for this. And maybe she is. We’ll find out.

“Then prove it,” I say, holding out the knife to her, the blade catching the light, gleaming in the darkness. “To prove that you’re mine, I want you to draw blood for me.”

She stares at the knife, her breath coming faster now, her chest rising and falling with the effort. I can see the hesitation, the fear, but there’s something else too. A spark of something darker, something I’ve seen in her before but never like this. The cocaine has her mind spinning, her thoughts racing, and she’s caught between the fear and the thrill, teetering on the edge.

“What do you mean?” she asks, her voice shaking but steady enough.

“Take it,” I say, pushing the knife closer to her, watching as her eyes flicker between it and me. “Take it and show me that you belong to me.”

She hesitates, her hand trembling as she reaches out, her fingers brushing against the handle. I can see the conflict in her eyes, the internal war she’s fighting with herself, and everything she’s ever known. But I can also see the moment she makes her decision, the moment she gives in to the darkness I’m offering her, that the rush of the cocaine has pushed her toward.

Her small hand closes around the handle, and I feel a thrill run through me as she takes the knife from me. Her grip is unsteady but firm as she looks at me. Her eyes are wide, her breath coming faster now, but she doesn’t pull away.

She’s in this, just like I always fucking knew she would be.

“What now?” she asks, her voice barely more than a whisper but filled with determination. Her mind is racing, the high making everything feel more intense, more urgent, and fuck if it isn’t a sight to behold.

“Now,” I say, stepping closer, my hand covering hers as I guide the knife up between us, “we make our mark.”

She swallows hard, her eyes locked on mine as I bring the knife closer to my own skin. I press the blade against the flesh of my forearm. I can see her breath catch, her eyes widening as I push down, drawing blood. It’s shallow, just enough to let her see, to let her understand what’s about to happen.

“Are you willing to cut for me?” I ask, my voice low, almost a whisper, as I guide her hand to mirror mine, pressing the blade against her arm, just below the elbow. “Bleed for me?”

She nods, her eyes never leaving mine, and I can see the fear there, the hesitation.

“Then do it,” I whisper, my voice harsh and commanding. “Prove that you fucking want this. That you mean it when you say you want to be mine.”

She hesitates, her breath coming in ragged gasps, but she doesn’t pull away. She pushes down. The blade bites into her flesh, as crimson blood begins to trail down her arm. She flinches, her face paling, but she doesn’t stop. She keeps going, her eyes locked on mine, holding my gaze as her trembling hand cuts a shallow line into her milky skin.

When she’s done, she stares at the blood, her eyes wide, her breath coming fast and shallow. Adrenaline and cocaine mixed together make for quite a heady cocktail. Her skin will be tingling with the sensation of everything that touches her. She’s shaking, but she fucking did it. She drew blood for me, and even done, she’s not pulling away.

She’s in this now, and there’s no turning back.

“Good girl,” I murmur, my hand closing over hers, guiding the knife away from her arm, watching as the blood wells up, dark and thick, running down her arm in rivulets. “You did so fucking good, little lunatic, and now, you’re mine now. All fucking mine.”

“Caius…” she whispers, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and regret, but there’s something else there too, something darker. Desire. The cocaine is coursing through her, making her feel invincible, making her want more, and she’s trying to fight it.

She’s trying to feel.

I don’t give her a chance to second-guess herself. I pull her close, my lips crashing against hers, hard and demanding, my hand still gripping the knife as I kiss her. She responds immediately, her hands clutching at me, pulling me closer on instinct like she can’t get enough.

And maybe she can’t. Maybe this is what she’s been craving all along, too. She just didn’t know it.

I break the kiss, panting against her lips, our breaths mingling in the cool night air. There’s blood on my hands, her blood, and it smears across her skin as I pull her closer. Her eyes are wide, pupils blown with the high of cocaine. But as I hold her stare, I’m met with something else, something primal. I can see it in the way she looks at me. She’s trembling, but not from fear. No, this is something else.

Something I’ve been dying to see.

“Tatum,” I whisper, my voice rough, almost guttural. “Do you feel that? That rush? The power? That’s what it’s like to be alive. That’s what it’s like to be free.”

She shudders, her breath hitching as she nods, the words catching in her throat. “Free feels good,” she breathes, her voice barely audible, but I hear it. I hear the truth in it, the acceptance.

I smirk, a dark satisfaction curling in my chest. She’s starting to understand. Starting to see things my way. “This is just the beginning,” I tell her, my thumb brushing over the fresh cut on her arm, smearing the blood. “There’s so much more I can show you. So much more we can do together.”

Her eyes flicker with excitement. I half expected her to put up more of a fight tonight. Especially when it came to drawing blood, I knew the cocaine would make it easier. Make her more willing to let go of the bullshit that’s weighing her down, but she proved me wrong.

Fuck. Maybe we’re more alike than I thought.

Tatum leans into me, her body pressing against mine, and I can feel the tension between us grow. It’s electric and charged like we’re on the edge of something catastrophic.

Or maybe something perfect.

“Caius…” she whispers again, and this time, there’s no hesitation, no doubt. Just raw need, laced with the remnants of fear and the haze of the high.

I grip her chin, forcing her to look up at me, my eyes boring into hers. “You are fucking mine,” I tell her, my voice a low growl. “You belong to me and no one else. Say it.”

“I’m yours,” she repeats, her voice trembling but steady. “I belong to you.”

There’s a twisted satisfaction in hearing those words, and I’ll never fucking tire of it. Seeing her submit to me despite everything our asshole parents told her about me. After every single person who told her I was no good and every cruel and fucked up thing I did to her, she’s given herself over to this, to us. It’s a high like nothing else, and I want more.

I want to take her deeper into this darkness to see just how far she’s willing to go.

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl. My fucking good girl,” I murmur, my lips brushing against hers, almost tender, a stark contrast to the violence we’ve just shared. “Now, let me show you what it means to truly be mine.”

I pull her down with me onto the forest floor, the earth cold and unforgiving beneath us, but it doesn’t matter. All that matters is her and the way she looks at me. The way her body responds to my cruel and unforgiving touch. Mommy and Daddy’s perfect little princess is painted in blood she shed for me . She’s finally completely under my control. I kiss her again, hard and possessive, my hands roaming over her petite body.

She moans into the kiss, her hands gripping me, pulling me in closer with desperation and need. It has my cock rock hard and eager to bury itself inside her warmth. I’m the one who’s done this to her, who’s brought her to this point. I slide my hand under her dress, feeling the warmth of her skin as I pull her soaked panties to the side. Needing more, she arches into my touch. Reaching up, I shove my bloodied fingers into her pouty mouth.

“Suck on them, baby,” I growl. She obeys without hesitation. Sucking and lapping her tongue around them. “That’s a good girl. Wash away the blood you made me shed. Fuck, look at you. Such a hungry, needy little slut you are. My little lunatic.” I pull my saliva-coated fingers from her mouth, “You want me, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she gasps, her eyes pleading with me, her body trembling with anticipation. “Yes, Caius, please…”

“Then take it,” I demand, my tone hardening. “Take what you want from me. You’re in control, show me how bad you fucking want it,”

She hesitates for only a moment before her hands are on me, fumbling with my belt, her movements frantic, desperate. I let her, watching as she struggles, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. She’s so fucking perfect like this, so eager to please, so willing to do whatever it takes.

Finally, she gets my belt undone, her blood-stained hands shaking as she reaches for the button of my jeans. I grab her wrists, stopping her and forcing her eyes to mine. “Slow down,” I order, my voice rough. “We’ve got all fucking night.”

And we do. There's no one to fucking stop us.

She nods, her eyes wide, pupils blown with lust and fear, and it’s the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen. I lean down, kissing her hard, claiming her mouth with mine, my hands sliding under her dress, pushing it up, exposing her skin to the cold night air. She shivers, but it’s not just from the cold. It’s from the anticipation, the excitement of what’s to come.

I pull back just enough to yank my shirt over my head, tossing it aside. I watch as she mimics me, sliding the thin straps of her dress down, pulling her arms out and pushing the top half of her dress down. My eyes drink at the sight of her, half-naked and trembling beneath me. I’ve seen it all before, but not like this. She’s perfect, absolutely fucking perfect for me, and now, she’s all mine.

I press my lips to her neck, kissing a trail down to her collarbone, biting just hard enough to leave a mark, to claim her as mine in every way that matters. She gasps, her back arching, her hands clutching at me, trying to pull me closer.

“Caius,” she moans, her voice breathless, pleading, and it drives me fucking wild. She looks up at me, her eyes dark with a carnal hunger. A hunger for me and the pleasure only I can give her.

It’s the most beautiful fucking sight I’ve ever seen.

“You’re mine,” I whisper, my voice low and rough as I slide my hand between her thighs, feeling the heat of her. She’s already fucking soaked for me. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” she gasps, her hips bucking against my hand, desperate for more. “I’m yours, Caius, please…”

“Good girl,” I murmur, my fingers slipping inside her, feeling the way she clenches around me, so fucking tight and perfect. “You belong to me, and I’m going to make sure you never forget it.”

She cries out, her hands clutching at me, her body trembling as I fuck her with my fingers, hard and relentless, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. I know the moment she’s close, I can feel it by the way her pussy grips my fingers. I can see it in the way her eyes flutter shut, the way her breath comes in short, desperate gasps.

But I’m not going to let her come, not yet. I pull my fingers out, watching as her eyes fly open, wide and desperate, a whimper escaping her lips.

“Not yet,” I say, my voice hard, commanding. “You don’t get to come until I say you can.”

“Please,” she begs, her voice shaking, her body trembling with need. “Fuck, Caius, I need it, I need you…”

“And you’ll fucking get it,” I promise as I unbutton my jeans and free myself. The tip of my cock brushes against her thigh, making her gasp and her eyes darken with lust. “But you need to remember who’s in charge. Who owns you.”

“You,” she breathes, her hands reaching for me, pulling me closer, her voice trembling with desperation. “You are, Caius, and I’m yours, completely. Please, just fuck me. I can’t take it anymore. I need you.”

That’s all I need to hear. I push into her hard and fast. There’s no easing myself in. Not tonight. Tonight, I bury myself inside her. Welcoming the feeling of her tightness as it stretches around me. She had to be a fucking virgin, she’s so fucking tight and fuck so perfect.

“Oh my god,” She cries out. Her voice echoes off the trees around us as her nails dig into my back. Her breath hitches as I start to move. I fuck her hard and relentlessly. Like I fucking own her. Because I do.

This is what I’ve been waiting for, what I’ve been craving. This moment, right here, with her beneath me, completely at my mercy, completely mine. And as I fuck her, as I push her closer and closer to the edge, I know that there’s no going back. Not for her. Not for me. This is it.

The point of no return.

She comes with a scream, her body tightening around me, and I follow her over the edge, my own release hitting me like a fucking freight train, hard and brutal and fucking perfect.

And when it’s over, when we’re both spent and panting, tangled together on the forest floor, I know that despite all I’ve gained with her, this is just the beginning. The beginning of something dark and twisted and fucking beautiful.

Because she’s mine now. Completely.

And I’m never letting her go.