Epilogue

Amber-Two years later

We live in one of the prettiest penthouses in town. Me and the man everyone warned me not to marry. They could all see that something was out of the ordinary with him. With us two when we're together.

I ignored their warnings, marrying Stan in the middle of February when there was nothing but ice and snow outside. Everyone looked at us as if they disproved but it was the happiest day of my life. For our honeymoon we went to an exclusive resort in the Maldives.

A complete waste because Stan wouldn't let me leave the hotel room. We have no inhibitions when we're together and whenever the staff would come to clean our room they'd always gasp, then tidy up as quickly as possible and run out with flushing cheeks.

In response Stan just grinned, coaxing a smile out of me too because he's a bad influence.

The worst.

An addictive influence too and even if he has me and has had me for two years, he still looks like he hungers for me. Like he'll never be able to get enough of me. Sometimes I think I'm the most adored woman in the country. Maybe even in the world.

And I know I made the right choice. Choosing to stay instead of screaming and trying to run away. Had I done that it would have been such a...loss.

My whole body hurts just thinking about it and I rarely do. Usually because I'm too busy being too wrapped up in Stan. We only have eyes for each other and we're probably the most annoying guests at parties and restaurants. At family dinners too.

My parents tolerate Stan and he tolerates them back. They're polite to each other but a little stand offish. Gautier still doesn't trust him but Stan respects that and easily brushes off any biting remark he might make.

But sometimes it's hard. Like that time during Christmas when Gautier and my sister Rischa suggested that we all go on a family vacation up in the mountains for New Year's Eve.

"Just the family," Rischa said, a little acidly. "Just the five of us."

I knew what she was thinking. That Stan just doesn't fit in with them. The way he's refined and unrefined at the same time. The way he's fully civilized one second and the next one he isn't.

But he's one more thing too. Real.

Under the table, Stan put his hand on my knee, sliding it upward, making me bite my lip and I glanced at him nervously. His whole body looked strained, his eyes staring straight ahead while his brows curved.

He didn't like the sound of that all. Neither did I.

"You don't mind do you, Stanmore?" Gautier said, pushing his glasses up his nose. "It's the gentlemanly thing to do. Give my sister some breathing room."

"She's my wife," Stan said, not blinking and showing he was serious. "And her husband is not a gentleman."

"Clearly," Rischa sniffed, slowly shaking her long, narrow face. "I don't need any breathing room," I protested, bathing in the smile that Stan gave me when I said that. "And if Stan is not coming, I'm not going either."

We can't be apart from each other. We fall asleep breathing into each other's mouths. Our bodies sometimes still joined. We're not separate, we're one.

When it comes to Gina, she's still suspicious around Stan but she deals with it better now ever since she found out that Stan had a famous mother. Other than that our life is amazing. Charmed.

There's only one thing missing...

I shake my head as I lay against the pillows, because we'd made an agreement. I promised him he was going to have all of me. And breaking that promise would be wrong, when I knew what I was agreeing to from the beginning.

Fisting the sheets, I twitch when I hear him walk through the front door. Our apartment is huge with a second floor, shiny marble floors and windows going up all the way to the ceiling.

The curtains aren't drawn and anyone could see if it hadn't been for Stan getting the windows tinted. My heart jumps from side to side, as I hear his footsteps moving up the staircase and I lick my lips. When he enters our bedroom, the strained look on his face that he always has when we've been apart disappears and he lets out a feral hiss at the sight of me. Warmth pools in my lower belly and I start panting, when he begins to remove his clothes.

Ascending on top of me and nuzzling my face and throat, my eyes start fluttering from eagerness. I've waited all day for him. He's done the same for me.

"Too damn beautiful," he rasps, his hand going between my legs and I fall into his angelite eyes, "too perfect and too damn mine."

Lately our lovemaking has been different, his thrusts a little too deep. Desperate. When I cleave to him, he does the same, sometimes looking at me with an expression that I can't read.

When it's over and we're spent, he yanks me to his chest and chants that I'm his, his, his.

It's like he's trying to fight something. Maybe himself.

I ask him what he wants and needs but the answer is always the same. You. Stanmore-Five years later

I did everything I could to give her the life of her dreams. She has it now. Amber's been signed by a record label and she's played both abroad and all over the country. Critics call her music, sexy, decadent poison.

She tells me it's all my doing. That I brought it out of her. And when she says it she always looks at me like I'm her hero. Like she doesn't see just how big my shadow is behind me.

But that same shadow responds to her. Responds to her touch, her smell, her laughter alone. It's contained by her and...sometimes she does make me feel like a good man.

Because that's what she sees in me. Not to say that she doesn't like it when I bite. She does. Always eagerly wriggling her hips in my face, always moaning so loud I'm happy I sound proofed the apartment.

There are days when we don't leave, when we lock ourselves inside and fill our bedroom with the smell of frenzy and craze. We're preoccupied with each other and indifferent to almost everyone else.

A life without her would have been a nightmare. A life with her is a dream. Even as the years have passed she still has her little, claret colored nails deep in me. I'm not a man who can be owned, but that part of me that can? All hers.

Some people carve their names into stones, we carved ourselves into each other. It's intense, bordering on maddening and nothing for the faint of heart. But Amber is strong, strong enough to take me.

I knew she would be the one who could manage, the first time I saw her face on that poster. That split of a second was all it took for the fixation to start building, for me to realize that she was the one who was going to be all mine.

She was going to be the one who wasn't going to lock me out, because the way that I love her is unconventional. Instead she allowed me in, knowing that every look, every touch, every word was sincere, burning with longing.

And I can't ever get enough of her. Even when she's right next to me, I still yearn for her. And when she's a little farther apart, that yearning becomes so great that it sometimes takes over, tries to break free and I have to rein it in.

My eyes drink her in as she ferociously plays on the stage.

With coiffed hair, black dress and a pearl necklace she looks like a dark angel. Her dress has a high slit, her leg sticking out alongside the cello but if anyone dares to look too close at my wife's body, they'll see the bite marks on her inner thigh.

And yes, I do mark, her creamy, delicate skin. I do it because I'm a possessive husband.

I know it. She knows it. Anyone who comes in contact with us knows it.

When she finishes, gracefully bowing her head, applauds erupt, filling the hall and she gets a standing ovation. Our three year old son, Mason who's sitting in my lap enthusiastically slaps his little fists together even if he doesn't know what all the fuss is about.

Smiling, I place a kiss on his baby soft head, thinking that allowing my instinct to take over and get Amber pregnant was one of the best decisions of my life. It took a couple of years before I was able to share her but the need for us to have a family won in the end.

We wait for her by the exit, in the alley and I try hard to not let my impatience get the best of me. It's been raining and Mason happily plays in one of the puddles, singing to himself.

He looks so much like me but his eyes and the gentleness in him is all Amber. My chest stirs because he and she hold my heart in their palms. Amber in her musical, delicate ones and Mason in his tiny ones.

I love my family fiercely. Unapologetically. And I'm fully aware of just how lucky I am.

If only Amber would come out... How long has she been in there? Sometimes fans greet her afterwards and we've decided that it's best that I stay away during that time for my own sanity. And Amber's.

But when unpleasant thoughts about others standing too close to her, able to smell the scent of her skin, I brush my neck in agitation, a sneer covering my face. Pacing back and forth, with my long, black coat I probably look like a bat, lying in wait for his butterfly.

Mason notices, looking up and I force the sneer to go away, winking at him instead. He bursts out into little chuckles, blissfully unware of the never-ending obsession his father has for his mother.

His mother who's very late...

Amber doesn't even get the chance to step out on the cobble stone street, before I have scooped her up in my arms and planted a violent kiss on her mouth. At first she protests in surprise, before giving in. She always gives in, in the end.

"What took you so long?" I rasp with curved brows and her lips pull into a smile. "Mason and I were ready to barge inside and drag you right out."

"Not Masey. Only daddy..." Mason chippers casually, making Amber laugh. She looks happy, as happy as a wife of mine should look. "I didn't take long. You just can't stand being apart from me."

"True," I growl because she's not wrong. How can I be apart from her when she's not my sun but my moon. When everything's dark, she still brings the light.

Our mouths meet, not separating until Mason tugs at our clothes. Taking his hands, we walk with him in between us down the alley and then we go home.

The End Thanks for picking up this book. If you enjoyed Obsessed, please consider leaving a review. Would love to know how you feel about this story that's slightly longer than my usual ones.