Obsession's Edge: Alaska

Ivy froze. Her body trembled as she stared at the man before her. "W-who are you?"

Alaska turned his head slowly, his sharp gaze stripping Ivy bare without even touching her. His lips curved into a thin smile, but it carried no warmth—only mystery and a threat impossible to decipher.

His eyes remained cold, and his tone was low yet laced with irony. "Before you start asking questions," he said, his voice gliding like a blade slicing through flesh, "you should cover yourself properly. There's no point in pretending to be shy now."

Ivy stiffened, her breath hitching. Her eyes slowly traveled downward, and when she realized her body was completely bare, a strangled scream escaped her lips. She yanked the blanket around her, wrapping herself tightly. Her face burned crimson—not just from embarrassment, but from the fear creeping into her heart.

"W-why am I naked?" she whispered in disbelief.

A blur of memories flickered in her mind—two large men, flashes of muscle, and then darkness. Everything felt disjointed, floating beyond her grasp.

Alaska smirked, a deeper threat lurking beneath his expression. He rose slowly from his seat, his movements like a predator stalking its prey. "Don't hide, little kitten," he murmured, casually tugging at the edge of Ivy's blanket, exposing her shoulder. "I saw everything last night. Every inch of you."

"Shut up!" Ivy shrieked, clutching the fabric tighter as if her life depended on it.

But her body betrayed her. A dull ache spread through her limbs, a sharp sting in the most intimate places. Her mind refused to accept it, but her body knew—something had happened. Something that crossed every boundary.

Hesitantly, she looked at the man before her. Alaska's dark eyes were like a bottomless abyss, his skin pale and flawless, his jaw sharp, his body sculpted like a god's. But there was something about his presence—something that made Ivy want to run as far as possible, yet at the same time, kept her rooted in place.

"W-what did you do to me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Alaska chuckled, the deep sound slicing through the silence like thunder in a quiet night. "Oh, you really don't remember, do you?" His smirk widened. "Last night, you were burning with desire, writhing beneath me. You even begged for more, Ivy."

Ivy shook her head violently, rejecting his words like poison. "No! That's impossible! I would never… I-I'm engaged! I could never…" Her voice broke, and the tears fell before she could stop them.

But she wasn't crying because she felt tainted. She was crying because of another image—one that cut deeper than a knife. Her fiancé, the man she had trusted with all her heart, had slept with his own sister.

Alaska watched the shift in her expression before he suddenly grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Do you regret it? Regret sleeping with me, huh?" he hissed.

But Ivy only shook her head, tears streaming endlessly. "I don't know…" she whispered, her voice so frail yet heavy with pain.

"Then why are you crying?" Alaska's voice rose, sharp as a blade. "I hate seeing women cry! Especially in front of me!"

Instead of fear, Ivy suddenly smiled. A faint, eerie smile that made Alaska pause. Something about it unsettled him. Amidst the falling tears, Ivy smiled like someone who had already lost her sanity.

"Thank you," she murmured in a calm tone, yet laden with emotions too complex to decipher.

Alaska frowned, confused by Ivy's sudden change in demeanor. "What the hell is this? Are you crazy?"

Ivy shook her head slowly, then gently pushed Alaska's hand away from her chin. "Thank you for avenging me," she said as she wiped her tears. "Now, he and I… we're even."

"Even?" Alaska repeated, his face full of questions. "What do you mean?"

Ivy took a deep breath, then met Alaska's gaze, her eyes gleaming sharply despite the lingering tears. "He slept with my sister, and I slept with you," she said, her tone sharp yet composed. "Isn't that fair? Doesn't that make us even?"

For a moment, Alaska was silent. His expression shifted from confusion to a mocking smirk. He nodded slowly before letting out a small laugh. "So, you used me as a tool for revenge?" he asked, his voice laced with sarcasm. "You're a very cunning woman."

"Cunning?" Ivy gave a weak smile. "Maybe. But at least now, I don't feel like I lost."

Alaska sat back down, his gaze unreadable. This woman wasn't just intriguing—she was a puzzle, full of wounds, yet hiding a strength beneath her apparent fragility. And for some reason, that made Alaska even more interested.

His sharp eyes observed Ivy closely, studying every movement like a hunter unwilling to let his prey escape. "What's your name?" he asked, his voice low but commanding.

Ivy, who was rummaging through the scattered clothes in the corner of the room, only glanced at him briefly. Her demeanor was cold, as if the question was unimportant. "Does it matter?" she replied curtly, not even looking directly at him.

Alaska's gaze darkened. A surge of irritation took over, snapping his patience. In one swift motion, he closed the distance between them and grabbed Ivy roughly. She fell onto the bed, her body trapped beneath his towering presence. Their position was awkward yet charged with explosive tension.

"L-let me go!" Ivy shouted, panicked, but Alaska ignored her protests completely.

His face drew closer, so close that she could feel his warm breath against her skin. His sharp eyes burned with anger and something else—something mysterious. "Don't play games with me," he hissed. "Tell me your name. Now."

Ivy froze, her body trembling under Alaska's piercing gaze. His eyes seemed to strip away all her defenses, forcing her to comply. With a small voice, barely above a whisper, she answered, "I-Ivy…"

Alaska smirked at her response. His smile held a sense of triumph, but there was also something more—something unreadable. Slowly, he pulled away, allowing Ivy to breathe again.

He strode toward the large wardrobe in the corner of the room, casually opening its doors and pulling out two sets of his own clothes. "Wear this," he said coolly, tossing one of the outfits toward Ivy. "Last night, I was enjoying myself too much to be patient enough not to rip your clothes." His words were spoken casually, yet laced with mockery.

Ivy clutched the fabric tightly, her jaw clenching. She fought to suppress the fury rising within her, struggling to contain the burning resentment. "You're a real bastard," she muttered, her voice a venomous whisper.

Alaska chuckled at her words. He leaned against the wall, watching her with an unreadable expression. "Maybe. But you, Ivy… you're not just an ordinary girl." His voice was low, filled with certainty that made Ivy feel as though she was being dissected under his sharp gaze.

Ivy lifted her head, meeting his stare with sharp but weary eyes. "What do you mean?" she asked, her tone defensive.

Alaska shrugged, his smirk widening. "We'll see," he replied, leaving the question hanging in the air. Ivy didn't know what the man was planning, but one thing was certain—this wasn't the end. This was only the beginning.

With unsteady steps, Ivy walked toward the bathroom, gripping the clothes Alaska had given her. She said nothing, but her eyes burned with barely contained frustration. She wanted to disappear from his sight as quickly as possible.

As soon as the bathroom door clicked shut, Ivy leaned against it, taking deep breaths. Her chest felt tight, her emotions a chaotic mess of anger, humiliation, and confusion. Slowly, she stepped toward the large mirror inside the bathroom.

But when she caught sight of her own reflection, Ivy's breath hitched. Her eyes widened, her lips parted in shock.

Her body was covered in marks—reddish-purple bruises, love bites, and imprints left deliberately upon her skin. She stumbled back a step before screaming, her voice shattering the silence.

"Damn it! What the hell is this?!" she shouted, her voice filled with fury and shame. Ivy's fingers brushed over the marks, desperately trying to erase them as if that would make them disappear. "That bastard! How dare he treat me like this?!"

She slammed her fist against the mirror, frustration boiling over. Her face burned—not just from the marks but from the hazy memories creeping back in. Rough touches, uncontrolled moans, and Alaska's dominant gaze flashing through her mind.

"No, I can't let this affect me!" Ivy whispered to herself, forcing determination into her voice. "I need to get out of here. I can't stay in this place with that man any longer."

She looked at her reflection again, this time with steely resolve. Ivy knew that if she stayed, Alaska might break whatever fragile control she had left. Quickly, she put on the clothes he had given her, despite the disgust crawling under her skin every time she remembered his presence.

"I'm leaving," she murmured, her voice quiet but firm. She tightened the clothes around her body, bracing herself for whatever awaited her once she stepped out of the bathroom door.