Crimson Obsession Sample

Prologue: The Portrait Room

The scent of turpentine and aged canvas lingered in the air, mingling with the faint hint of lavender from the single candle flickering on a nearby table. The room was vast, its high ceilings and shadowed corners giving it the feel of a cathedral—solemn, oppressive, and full of unspoken truths. The walls were a mosaic of Darian’s world, covered in enormous, half-finished portraits. Each painted gaze seemed to follow Selena as she stepped further inside, her heels clicking softly against the worn hardwood floor.

The mansion was silent, save for the distant creaks of its old bones settling in the night. She’d expected noise—servants, the hum of life—but instead, she was met with stillness that seeped into her skin, making her every movement feel intrusive.

Her fingers brushed the edge of a heavy wooden table in the center of the room. It was littered with paintbrushes, palettes, and sketches, all arranged in a chaotic order that felt more like a language she couldn’t quite understand. One sketch stood out—a hastily drawn image of a woman. The lines were raw, frantic, but the face…

Her breath hitched. It was her.

The realization sent a ripple of unease through her. Selena turned the page over, but her trembling fingers betrayed her confidence. Was this a coincidence? An artist’s vision conjured by chance? Or something more deliberate?

A low creak came from the doorway, and her head snapped up. The shadows moved, and then they coalesced into a figure—a man, tall and broad, his presence as commanding as the room itself. Darian Voss.

His shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, revealing a triangle of sun-kissed skin, and his hands were streaked with paint in shades of black and red. There was something unyielding in the way he carried himself, like a king surveying his kingdom. When his eyes found hers, they burned with a darkness she couldn’t look away from.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his voice deep, each word slow and deliberate.

“I knocked,” Selena replied, her tone sharper than she felt. She swallowed hard, willing her pulse to steady. “No one answered.”

His lips curved into a faint smirk, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “And so you let yourself in?”

“I wasn’t going to wait forever,” she countered. “Besides, I had to see for myself.” She gestured to the sketch. “What is this supposed to mean?”

Darian stepped closer, his movements deliberate, like a predator deciding whether to pounce. He didn’t answer immediately; instead, his gaze flicked to the sketch she’d pointed out. For a moment, something shifted in his expression—fleeting, almost imperceptible.

“It means nothing,” he said finally, his voice cool. But there was a weight to the words, as though he didn’t quite believe them himself.

Selena narrowed her eyes. “I don’t think that’s true.”

He laughed softly, a low, almost mocking sound that sent a shiver down her spine. “You think you can walk in here, ask a few questions, and uncover all my secrets?”

“I don’t care about your secrets,” she lied. “I just want the truth.”

“The truth?” Darian echoed, stepping even closer. He was close enough now that she could see the faint streaks of red paint on his jaw, the way his hair curled at the ends from the heat of the room. “Be careful what you ask for, Selena. The truth isn’t always something you want to hear.”

Her name on his lips felt like both a warning and a promise, and it took all her strength not to flinch under the weight of his gaze. She could feel the heat radiating off him, his presence overwhelming in the quiet, cavernous space.

“I’m not afraid of you,” she said, her voice steady despite the storm building in her chest.

His smirk returned, but this time there was something predatory about it. “You should be.”

Darian reached out, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. The touch was fleeting, almost gentle, but it left a trail of electricity in its wake.

Selena tensed, her breath catching as his hand dropped back to his side. His eyes lingered on hers for a moment longer before he turned away, leaving her standing there, heart pounding in the silence.

“Get out,” he said, his voice flat.

Her brow furrowed. “What?”

“You heard me.” He didn’t look back as he walked to one of the half-finished canvases and picked up a brush. “Go, before you find something you can’t unsee.”

For a moment, she hesitated, torn between the urge to demand answers and the instinct to flee. The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, a warning she wasn’t sure she wanted to heed.

Without another word, she turned and walked out, her heels clicking against the hardwood. But as she reached the door, she glanced back over her shoulder. Darian stood in front of the canvas, his back to her, the flickering candlelight casting long, distorted shadows against the walls.

Her instincts told her to leave him and his cryptic warnings behind. But her curiosity? That told her she’d be back.

The rest of the story on Barnes & Noble website using the link provide below!

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