Ruthless Kings of Obsession (Leighton Royals University #3)

23. Tainted Love

Tainted Love

~ G EMINI~

The steady rhythm of Zander's heartbeat beneath my ear grounds me in reality better than any medication. His hospital bed wasn't designed for two people, but I've learned to make myself small, to fit into the spaces he creates for me. The gentle rise and fall of his chest serves as a constant reminder that he's alive – broken but breathing, wounded but still with me.

"The nurse is going to have a fit if she finds you in here again," he murmurs, though his arms tighten around me possessively. His fingers thread through my silver hair with practiced ease, the gesture so familiar it makes my throat tight with emotion.

I burrow closer, careful to avoid the bandages covering his bullet wounds. "The nurse can fuck off."

His chuckle rumbles through his chest, followed immediately by a sharp intake of breath as the movement pulls at his stitches. The sound makes me tense, ready to call for help, but his hand continues its steady rhythm through my hair.

"Are you in pain?" I ask quietly, hating how small my voice sounds. The voices in my head have been quieter since I found out he survived, but they still whisper occasionally, reminding me how close I came to losing him forever.

"Nah," he says easily, though I catch the slight strain in his tone. "They've got me on some pretty fantastic happy pills. Everything's just... floaty." A lazy smile plays at his lips. "Kind of like that time in Vancouver when you convinced me to try those special brownies."

"You're such a lightweight," I tease, but the words catch in my throat as his hand moves to cup my cheek. The touch is gentle but insistent, turning my face until I have no choice but to meet his eyes.

Even clouded by painkillers, those forest-green depths see straight through every mask I wear. Since the first day we met, he's had this ability to strip away my carefully constructed facades, to find the real me hiding beneath layers of protection.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, thumb brushing away tears I didn't realize had fallen.

The words make no sense. "Why are you apologizing?" My hands fist in his hospital gown, careful not to press against his injuries but needing to hold onto something solid. "You're not the one who should be sorry about anything."

His expression grows more serious, though the painkillers make his pupils slightly too wide. "I'm sorry because my almost-death killed something in you." His free hand finds mine, squeezing gently. "I can see it in your eyes, Sweet Dynamite. Something broke when you thought you lost me."

"I don't understand," I try to argue, but we both know it's a lie. The voices in my head grow louder, remembering the warehouse, the rain, the absolute certainty that he was gone forever. How something inside me shattered in that moment, leaving behind something darker, more dangerous.

"You do understand," he counters softly. "And I'd be lying if I said part of me wasn't fucking thrilled about it." A smile plays at his lips – that dangerous one that first made me realize we were perfectly matched in our broken pieces. "Knowing you love me enough to let the idea of losing me taint you? That's better than any drug they're pumping through these IVs."

His honesty catches me off guard, making fresh tears spill down my cheeks. "Zander..."

"But I also hate it," he continues, eyes never leaving mine. "Hate that it's gone this far. That we've become so entwined that the thought of existing without each other drives us toward insanity." His thumb traces my bottom lip, the touch feather-light but electric. "What does that say about us, Sweet Dynamite? That we'd rather burn the world than live in it alone?"

The question hangs between us, heavy with implications neither of us wants to face. Instead of answering, I carefully shift until I'm straddling his hips, mindful of the various tubes and wires keeping him alive. My hands hover over the bandages covering his chest, not quite touching but close enough to feel the heat of his skin.

"I can't lose you," I whisper, watching my tears fall onto the stark white gauze. "When I thought... when I saw you bleeding out..." The words stick in my throat, choking me with their weight. "Everything went dark. Not just the world – everything inside me too."

His hands find my hips, steadying me as I shake with suppressed sobs. "Tell me," he urges quietly. "Let it out, baby. I'm right here."

The dam breaks. "I planned everything so carefully," I gasp between tears. "Every detail, every reaction, every possible outcome. The video exposure, the warehouse confrontation, even knowing Domino would follow me there – it was all orchestrated perfectly." My fingers trace the edges of his bandages, remembering how his blood felt on my hands that night. "But I never... I didn't think he'd actually..."

"Shoot me?" Zander supplies when I can't finish the sentence. Despite everything, there's a hint of pride in his voice. "My brilliant Queen, always ten steps ahead of everyone else. Except when it comes to matters of the heart."

"I didn't understand," I admit, letting the words fall like stones into still water. "How deeply he'd embedded himself into my soul. How I kept imagining you just being alone…bleeding out…would break something fundamental inside me." A broken laugh escapes through my tears. "All those years of his torment, his psychological warfare – none of it compared to the moment I realized he'd taken you from me."

Zander's hands move from my hips to cup my face, forcing me to meet his gaze again. The painkillers make his movements slightly clumsy, but his eyes remain sharp, focused entirely on me. "He didn't take me," he says firmly. "I'm right here, Sweet Dynamite. Still breathing, still yours, still completely fucking obsessed with every broken piece of you."

"But what if next time?—"

"There won't be a next time," he cuts me off, something deadly entering his tone despite the drugs. "Because now we know exactly what we're capable of when separated. What lengths we'll go to, what lines we'll cross, what sanity we'll sacrifice." His thumbs brush away fresh tears. "We're toxic together, baby. Probably dangerous for everyone around us. But we're fucking lethal apart."

The truth of his words settles in my bones like lead. I think about how easily I orchestrated Domino's destruction, how naturally violence came when I thought Zander was gone. The darkness that's always lived inside me found perfect expression in that warehouse, fueled by grief and rage and the absolute certainty that nothing mattered anymore.

"I love you," I whisper, the words feeling insufficient for the magnitude of what exists between us. "I love you so much it terrifies me."

"Good," he smirks, though his eyes remain serious. "Because I love you enough to take two bullets and still come back for more." His hands slide into my hair, pulling me closer until our foreheads touch. "We're fucked up, Sweet Dynamite. Probably beyond saving. But at least we're fucked up together."

A laugh bubbles up through my tears – slightly hysterical but genuine. "My perfect match in every twisted way."

"Exactly." His lips brush mine softly, the kiss tasting of salt and medication and promises we'll probably both regret making. "Now come here and let me hold you until these happy pills knock me out again."

I carefully rearrange myself against his less-injured side, letting his steady heartbeat lull me toward something resembling peace. The voices in my head settle to a quiet murmur, soothed by his presence like nothing else can manage.

We're probably damned – too broken to be truly whole, too dangerous to be truly safe. But as I drift toward sleep in his arms, I can't bring myself to care. Let the world judge us for our obsession, our toxicity, our absolute inability to exist without each other.

They'll never understand that some forms of love are meant to be tainted.

Some souls are meant to break together.