insane

"Get off me," Selene pushes me away with more force than necessary, causing me to stumble backward and land unceremoniously on the hard floor. I shoot her a mock-aggrieved look, rubbing my back where it made contact with the ground.

"Don't be a baby," she retorts, her tone teasing as she stands over me, her hand reaching for her metal whip.

I watch her with a mixture of amusement and affection as she straightens, her gaze fixed firmly on me. Despite her playful demeanor, there's a certain intensity in her eyes that always captivates me, as if she holds the power to unravel my very soul with just a glance.

"Spar with me? It's our turn, after all," she suggests, her voice tinged with challenge. I can't help but admire her determination, even as I feel a twinge of apprehension at the thought of facing off against her.

I meet her gaze, a playful smirk playing on my lips. "The others have better things to do than watch me flirt, you know," I quip, glancing around at our friends who are pointedly avoiding eye contact with me.

Selene rolls her eyes, her arm resting casually on her hip as she cocks an eyebrow at me. "Don't bully the kids," she chides lightly, delivering a playful kick to my leg.

"Fine, fine," I grumble good-naturedly, pushing myself up from the floor with a dramatic sigh.

*

As I struggle against the chains binding me to the creaky chair, I snarl into the void, ''I'll slaughter those bastards.''The cold metal digs into my skin like a merciless vice, a constant reminder of my helplessness. My gaze sweeps across the dimly lit, abandoned warehouse, the shadows cast by the flickering lights dancing on the walls like macabre specters. I'm frozen, both from pain and the chilling cold.

The sound of footsteps echoes through the cavernous space, and a man on a cane emerges from the darkness, flanked by his entourage of suited men.

''Kill who?'' he asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm and mockery. I grit my teeth, fury coursing through my veins like liquid fire.

''Petro!'' I spit, my eyes fixed on the man who betrayed me with a treachery that cuts deeper than any knife.

The old man, Petro, sneers at me, his voice laced with contempt and disdain. ''Ah, the notorious Maxwell De Venti, chained like a beast.''

I seethe, my anger boiling over like a cauldron of rage. ''You'd better keep me in these chains, or you'll regret it!'' I shout, earning a brutal punch to my stomach and another to my jaw. Blood forms on my mouth, and I spit it out, defiance burning within me like a fire that refuses to be extinguished.

Petro's laughter is like a cold wind, cutting through my soul like a glacial breeze.

"I came to gloat, but I'll leave you to these gentlemen,"he says, gesturing to two large, suited men who look like they'd relish the chance to end my life. With a nod, they move in, and everything goes black.

I feel a weight on my laps and I slowly open my eyes, I'm met with a pair of piercing green eyes and golden blonde hair, gazing at me with a mixture of amusement and contempt. Angelina's presence is a palpable force, her tiny gold dress clinging to her curves like a second skin. I'm acutely aware of my helplessness, bound by chains that dig into my skin like a cruel caress.

"Angelina," I growl, my voice laced with venom, as I glare at the woman who's both my nemesis and my obsession.

She rises from my lap, her movements graceful and deliberate, her dress fluttering around her like a tantalizing whisper.

"If it isn't Mr. De Venti," she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm, as she twirls around, her eyes never leaving mine.

I seethe with anger and frustration, my mind racing with the memories of our past encounters. She's a beautiful assassin, a poisonous siren who's left a trail of bodies in her wake. And yet, I'm drawn to her like a moth to flame, my desire for her warring with my hatred.

"Here I was, on business - you know, eliminating a certain politician - when I spotted a group of men hauling a human-sized carpet out of my hotel room,"she says, her voice husky and confident, as she plops back onto my lap, her weight pressing down on me like a physical challenge.

I tug on the chains, my need for escape momentarily forgotten in the face of my desire for her. She knows it, too, her eyes glinting with a knowing light, as she traces my hair with her fingers, her touch like a spark to dry kindling.

"Behave, my dear," she coos, her voice laced with mockery, as she leans in close, her breath hot against my ear. "I'm disappointed, even embarrassed for you, Maxwell."

"So, you're here to finish what they started?" I ask the beautiful assassin, my voice laced with venom.

"I could," she says, her voice husky and confident, as she roughly tugs on my hair, forcing me to meet her gaze. Her eyes are cold and green, but I detect a flicker of desire in their depths. "But it's such a waste. You're quite the attractive spectacle, bloody, tied up, and at my mercy." She leans in close, her breath hot against my ear, and I feel a surge of anger and desire.

"Quite the kinky little thing you are," I say, my voice barely above a whisper, as I struggle against my restraints. I hate this woman, I've lost count of how many times she's nearly killed me, but heaven help me, I want her just as much as I hate her.

"No kink shaming," she says, her voice laced with mockery, as she kisses me, her lips rough and demanding. I respond with equal fervor, my ribs aching, my face throbbing, but I don't care. I tug on my chains, not to escape, but to pull her closer, to lose myself in the darkness of our twisted desire.

She breaks off the kiss, leaving me craving more. Tease.

"I don't like this chemistry between us, De Venti," she says, tracing my lips with her finger. I remain silent, but I understand. "I have a 100% kill record, you know. I keep postponing your death, and you keep putting yourself in these situations. Do you know how embarrassing it is for me, Maxwell? I can't even kill you, but you'll get yourself killed by that fool Petro?"

Her anger boils over, and she slaps me across the cheek. The pain stings, but I grit my teeth and respond, "Sue me."

I hate this woman with a passion, but my body betrays me, yearning for her touch.

She kisses me again, rough and demanding, biting my lip until I bleed. I respond in kind, and she moans, her eyes flashing with a twisted desire. She pulls away, gets off me, and I'm left feeling frustrated and enraged. "If Petro won't kill me, blue balls will," I think to myself.

"I'm going to let you go, Maxwell," she says, her voice husky and confident.

"You can only die in my arms." She picks up a gun from the floor? and shoots me in the leg. I scream in agony, but she just smirks.

"Don't be a baby, I missed anything major. It's just insurance." She unties me from my chains, and I stumble to the ground, my leg throbbing in pain. "I'll see you later, Maxwell," she says, blowing me a kiss as she walks away in her tiny gold dress, her hips swaying like a taunting whisper. I swear I'll kill her, but deep down, I know I'll be drawn to her like a moth to flame, eager for our next deadly encounter.

I gaze upon the lifeless bodies of the men on the floor, their eyes frozen in a permanent stare. I summon the strength to stand, my leg throbbing in agony, and kick their corpses with a fierce grunt. They likely didn't even see it coming when Angelina struck, her deadly precision leaving them no chance of escape.

With a Herculean effort, I stumble out of the warehouse, my mind racing with schemes of retribution against Petro. I am Maxwell De Venti, after all, and I won't rest until I unleash hell upon that man's existence. My vengeance will be a force to be reckoned with, and Petro will soon learn the true meaning of fear.

*

As I gaze at Selene, spear in hand, I'm jolted out of my reverie. Reflecting on our past encounters, I can't help but wonder about the complexity of our relationship. Did we truly hate each other that day at the warehouse, we often lied to ourselves and called it lust. Lust? I chuckle to myself, what a load of bullshit we told each other.

Our next encounter, a few months later at a luxury resort in Mexico, was a stark contrast. Filled with a mixture of animosity and undeniable sexual tension, it was a battle of wills that left us both reeling. Surprisingly, we emerged from that encounter unscathed, our bodies giving in to desire even as our minds waged war against each other.

Selene raises an eyebrow at me, silently questioning my amusement. I offer a nonchalant shrug in response. My beloved is insane and I love her.