Dark Romance: A Cruel Obsession

“Vivian, Vivian…”

Alajos’s gasps became more and more intense, and Vivian felt something growing in the palm of her hand. The man’s arms around her tightened, and her heart pounded as she realized something amidst the man’s groans.

Hot!

Vivian’s fingers instinctively recoiled upon touching the sticky, scalding liquid. Alajos let out a satisfied groan, and she widened her eyes, feeling as if something had exploded in her head.

The smell of blood filled the bedroom, and Vivian and Alajos maintained a dignified appearance with their clothes intact, except for the fact that what was beneath their closeness could no longer be seen.

The white liquid stained Vivian’s nightgown and Alajos’s pajamas. He simply lifted Vivian horizontally and walked into the bathroom amid her gasps.

“No, Alajos.” Vivian’s sudden aerial movement brought her back from the ambiguous affair. She pressed her hands against Alajos’s chest and let out a hoarse growl, “You’re still injured, you can’t…”

“Don’t worry, I won’t do anything,” Alajos placed her in the bathtub. “I just want to help you clean up.”

“Of course, as a return favor, I think you should help clean me up too.”

…

When the two emerged clean from the bathroom, it had been three hours. Alajos had indeed not done anything to Vivian, but she felt sore in her hands and her legs were trembling…

Alajos lay on the bed and pulled Vivian into his embrace.

Exhausted, Vivian was truly afraid of him and refused to let him hold her. “I don’t want to, please let me go…”

“Be good, I won’t do anything,” Alajos rested his chin on her head.

Rolling her eyes in his embrace, Vivian no longer believed Alajos’s sweet talk.

Fortunately, Alajos was still a patient; his desires had indeed subsided, allowing Vivian to enjoy a comfortable rest in his embrace, and then…ConTEent bel0ngs to Nôv(e)lD/rama(.)Org .

She opened her eyes to a bright sunlight!

“What time is it?” Vivian bounced in Alajos’s embrace, but as they were lying down, she was pressed back down by Alajos.

“Ten thirty,” there was a squirrel-shaped alarm clock on Vivian’s bedside table, easily visible to Alajos.

“Ten thirty?” Vivian’s voice raised a decibel, “Heavens, we should get up, you need to go to work, and I need to go downstairs.”

“No, I am a wounded soldier,” Alajos did not release his hold on Vivian’s hand. He didn’t get up, nor did he let Vivian get up. “No work today.”

“Really?” Vivian couldn’t believe it, muttering softly, “I thought you were a workaholic.”

Alajos lowered his head to look at her, raising an eyebrow, “Am I?”

“I think so,” Vivian rested her forehead on his chest, her fingertip tracing a scar on his chest, “You’re always so busy, never have time to eat with me, or chat with me.”

Vivian sighed, “If work could impregnate a woman, would you marry your work?”

Alajos was taken aback, then couldn’t help but laugh, “What are you saying?”

“You might have some misunderstanding about me, Vivian,” Alajos laughed, “I don’t love work as much as you think. Really, no one enjoys being tense day in and day out, and no one would marry their work, this assumption is invalid.”

“You don’t love me either, I know,” Vivian said.

“Vivian,” Alajos sighed, stroking her golden hair, “Capo doesn’t fall in love with anyone, but I will protect you. You are my wife, my family, do you understand?”

Vivian wanted to say she didn’t understand, but she did. She just couldn’t accept it.

She had come from Los Angeles to Houston; she had been given to Alajos as a gift by her father. She had married a handsome man, perhaps she had already fallen for him, but he could never reciprocate the same feelings.

She had married Capo, she was unfortunate.

But she had married Alajos, she was lucky.

Vivian gave up; she didn’t want to cling to an answer that could never be. She sniffed and quietly blinked away her tears.

The scene before her blurred and then cleared again. Vivian was seeing Alajos’s tattoos up close for the first time in such a bright environment.

Alajos had many tattoos on his body-on his arms, chest, and back. Unlike the back tattoo, which was clearly a whole piece, the tattoos on his arm were made up of multiple individual patterns.

The two fell into silence, and the tender atmosphere slowly dissipated.

Seemingly not ready to continue the conversation, Vivian pretended to study his tattoos earnestly, from a string of cursive words to a fierce skull, from a cluster of dark flames to the profile of a beautiful woman.

Vivian’s cool fingertips gently traced the woman’s luscious black hair, her straight nose, and her full red lips, finally resting on her beautiful eyes. “Who is she?”

Following her finger, Alajos’s gaze settled on the exquisite and beautiful face of the woman, gradually becoming deep and complex.

After waiting for a long time without receiving an answer, Vivian couldn’t help but look up into Alajos’s eyes.

What was that feeling?

It seemed like reminiscing about someone deeply rooted in memory.

She must be very important to Alajos.

Vivian quietly withdrew her hand. She didn’t want to speculate about Alajos’s past and his inner thoughts. She was afraid she would not be able to hold onto her hard-won conviction-do not fall in love with Alajos, do not yearn for his affection, just be an ordinary couple.

Vivian decided she didn’t need Alajos’s answer. With one hand supporting herself on the bed, she sat up, leaving Alajos’s embrace. “You should go back to sleep, I’ll go prepare lunch for you.”

Just as Vivian was about to leave, Alajos, as if awakening from a dream, reached out and grabbed her wrist, gently pulling her towards him.

Vivian couldn’t resist his strength and was pulled back, forced to turn in his direction. She almost fell into Alajos’s arms, unable to control her body, and unavoidably came into contact with Alajos’s wound.

She heard him let out a painful “hiss.” Panicked, Vivian quickly moved her hands away, placing them on the bed frame on either side of Alajos’s body to reduce the weight on him.

“Don’t move,” Alajos embraced her again, closing his eyes, waiting for the intense pain to pass. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead from the pain, and his breathing went from heavy to light.

“She is my mother.” Alajos’s deep voice sounded from above Vivian as she remained still in his embrace. He seemed to sigh faintly, like an expressionless narrator.

“Four years ago, my father announced her death publicly, stating it was due to cancer.”

Vivian knew about this. Four years ago, she had attended Mrs. Hargrave’s funeral with her father and mother. It was her first time in Houston and her first meeting with Alajos’s brothers.

Vivian wasn’t a perceptive person, and she wasn’t good at turning seemingly normal things into conspiracies. But she sensed something unusual in Alajos’s words.

So, Alajos’s mother didn’t die of cancer?