Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 418

Chapter 418: The Son’s Obsession

Warning; This Chapter might later contain obsessive love and feelings, tendencies and actions.

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The digital clock on the wall shifted from 2:17 to 2:18. A minute, stolen from time itself, spent entirely in the sanctuary of her breath.

A soft sound escaped her lips—not a word, but a sigh of deep sleep. Her head turned slightly on the cushion, her face now angled more directly toward mine. Her lips were parted. The warmth of her exhalation ghosted directly over my mouth.

A shudder ran through me, so profound it felt like the universe adjusting its axis.

Closer.

The thought was not my own. It was a command from a place deeper than instinct. My body obeyed without question. I shifted infinitesimally forward, reducing the gap between us from inches to a hair’s breadth. Now, with each soft breath she took, I could feel the faintest disturbance of air against my own lips.

It was a kiss in its most elemental form.

A pre-kiss.

A promise written in vapor and heat.

My eyes traced the line of her jaw, down the elegant column of her neck, to where the silk of her pajama top lay open just enough to reveal the delicate hollow of her throat. I could see the flutter of her pulse there. A tiny, frantic bird beating against the cage of her skin.

My bird. My pulse to monitor, to protect, to own.

The obsessive need to touch became a physical ache. But not to wake her. Never to wake her. The purity of her sleep was sacred. My hand, which had been resting on my own knee, lifted with glacial slowness. I didn’t reach for her cheek. That was too direct, too crude for this ritual.

Instead, my fingers crept onto the cushion, over the fine linen, until the very tips brushed against the stray strands of her hair that fanned out around her head. I didn’t stroke it. I just let my skin make contact with hers, through the veil of her hair. It was like touching a shadow, a whisper of a touch, but the connection it forged was electric.

It was a circuit completed. Her life force, steady and sleeping, flowing into me. My obsessive devotion, silent and watchful, flowing back.

A car passed on the distant road, moon supplying the lights sweeping through the window like a searchlight for my forbidden obsession for my mother. For a single, heart-stopping second, the light illuminated her face. Her eyelashes, long and dark, cast tiny shadows on her cheeks. In that fleeting moment, she looked like a princess under a spell.

And I was the beast, not waiting for true love’s kiss to break the curse, but consuming the curse itself, making it a part of my soul. My love for her wasn’t a cure. It was a condition. A beautiful, terminal condition.

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