Dance in the Dark (Confessions, Book 1)

Dance in the Dark (Confessions, Book 1)
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Breakout author Chris Alan teams up with NYT’s bestselling author Melody Anne in a stimulating thriller series that brings a whole new twist to happily-ever-after.

Obitus was once like you and I, but isn’t that the case with all monsters. Don’t we all begin life the same way? We’re ripped from the womb of our mothers, slapped on the butt, and our first sound is a scream.

Adam had a normal childhood for a few years and then slowly darkness begins entering his life. His father turns out to not be the man he always thought he was, but Adam doesn’t think that’s a bad thing. He admires his father and he wants to be just like him even when he discovers the dark secrets his dad has been keeping.

Take this journey with Adam as he becomes Obitus, as he completes the circles of his childhood to become the killer he’s always been meant to be. In this story, you won’t know whether to run from him or beg to be his next victim.

Beware though, because once you enter Obitus’s world you don’t get to stop playing his game unless he chooses to set you free. Is this a work of fiction … or is it a confession? Only you can decide whether or not you choose to dance with a man who always picks the song. Because there’s no such thing as a chance meeting in the dark, and you only have one opportunity to escape Obitus … but your time is running out …

In this thrilling beginning to the Confessions Series, Obitus discovers who he is, and exactly what he wants … and that could be you.

“It’s time to wake up.”
Slowly, her eyelids fluttered as I took an unhurried walk around the parameter of the bed. I loved how my voice bounced back at me in this small, cluttered room. This experience was so much more than a capture or kill. There was nothing out of place, nothing left to chance. This had been planned for too long.
I stopped at the back of the headboard as I looked over it to the perfect display of her body. It was a masterpiece. The frame had been pulled into the center of the room so I could observe her from every angle. With the bed this way I could walk around it, circle my prey, enjoy every moment of this night. There could be no mistakes—not with this.
Her whimper, as consciousness seeped in and she realized she couldn’t move her arms that were bound to the steel poles at the head of her bed, was music to my ears. She was still too drugged to understand what was happening, but I was certainly a patient man. She’d come fully awake very soon—I had the means to ensure that.
“Are you rested?”
As I said this, I moved beside her, coming into her view. From the slight stiffening of her muscles I could see she recognized my voice, but it wasn’t until our gazes locked that the full impact of this moment rushed through me.
Her mouth opened and her dry tongue swept across her cracked bottom lip. But even that much movement seemed to put a strain on her, and she leaned her head back and closed her eyes once more. That wouldn’t do at all.
“I’ve got a treat for you,” I assured her—and myself.
Pulling a prepared needle from the bag sitting on the end of her bed, I took off the protective cap and held it up to the light, the amber liquid reflecting from the dim lamplight casting shadows in the room. She didn’t budge as I shoved the tip into her thin skin and pushed. Pulling it out, I tossed the syringe into my bag.
Taking in a heavy breath, I savored the taste on my tongue. The room was stale with a strong odor of generic cigarettes and cheap whiskey hanging heavy in the air. Though that might be unappealing to most, it smelled like victory to me. I sat on the bed beside her and peeled off my gloves. I wanted nothing between her skin and mine for this perfect moment. I needed to feel everything she felt—her terror, her realization, her pain, and finally, her acceptance.

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