Possessing Eden

Possessing Eden Disciples 7 Izzy Sweet Sean Moriarty Contents Warning 1. Eden 2. Eden 3. Jude 4. Eden 5. Jude 6. Eden 7. Jude 8. Eden 9. Jude 10. Eden 11. Jude 12. Eden 13. Eden 14. Jude 15. Jude 16. Eden 17. Eden 18. Jude 19. Jude 20. Eden 21. Jude 22. Eden Epilogue Playlists About Us Stalk Us Willing (The Un Series) - Preview Also by Izzy and Sean Copyright © 2023 by Izzy Sweet and Sean Moriarty All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Published by Izzy Sweet and Sean Moriarty This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Copyright © 2023 Izzy Sweet & Sean Moriarty To all our readers who stood by us and supported us during illness and recuperation. Your love and support means more than the world to us. When writing this book you were always in the forefront. We truly hope you enjoy it. There will be more Disciples to come… Izzy & Sean Warning The following book is a dark romance. It contains scenes of descriptive domestic violence, extreme graphic violence, scenes of torture, and explicit sex. 1 Eden “What I do with my money is my own damn business!” Kyle roars, his face blood red with fury. The glass he was holding shatters against the wall a split-second later, narrowly missing my head. I flinch as whatever he was drinking splatters against my left side. Chest heaving, the veins in his throat pulsing, Kyle clenches his fists and stalks angrily towards me. Instinctually, I cower, pressing back against the wall. And hate myself a little bit more for it. As Kyle’s big legs quickly eat up the distance between us, I loathe myself for putting myself in this situation. I should have known better. Multiple people warned me I was making a mistake when I agreed to marry him. That he was hot-headed and prone to temper tantrums. But I was young, naïve, and fucking stupid. Looking for an escape from my shitty home situation. He offered me hope. Stability. A way out of a hole I thought I would never be able to climb out of on my own. He promised to always protect me and take care of me. To love me and be by my side, whatever may come. He pretty much sold me the fucking Brooklyn Bridge and my dumbass bought it. I knew better. I fucking knew better, and still I fell for it. Everyone in my life has let me down one way or another. Yet, somehow, I thought he would be different. “If you don’t like it, you can get a fucking job!” Kyle screams in my face as he reaches me. Cringing, I focus on resisting the urge to bring my hands up to shield myself because I know it will only make him angrier. Kyle is a big guy. He’s got at least five inches on me and a ton of muscle to go with it. He’s intimidating when he’s not angry. When he’s furious, he’s downright terrifying. His fist slams against the wall beside me and I nearly jump out of my skin. “I’m fucking tired of you nagging me to death!” he roars, almost blowing out my eardrums and spraying me with spit. Wild, rage-filled eyes locking on mine, he dares me to give him a reason to hurt me. To push this further. I know from past experiences that any little thing I do will be used as an excuse for his actions. So I resort to doing what I do best. I force myself to do nothing. To feel nothing. No anger. No hurt. I flip the switch I found inside me long ago, turning everything off. The fear, the need to survive, the hopelessness. Whatever little love I ever had for him… It’s all gone. Tucked away in a little box to suffer through later. Utterly empty of everything that makes me a person, I stare back at him. While his eyes beg me for it. Beg me to give him what in his mind must be permission to go to the next step. Anything can and will be used as an excuse. Breathing too hard. Twitching just a little bit. Even blinking can set him off. When it finally dawns on him that I have no plans of talking or fighting back, some of the fire in his eyes dies down and his mouth pulls into a scowl. I can practically see the wheels starting to turn inside his head as he tries to think of a way to get me to give him what he wants. He can’t just hit me. Oh no, that will not do. He needs it to somehow be my fault, otherwise he’d have to take the blame for being an asshole. And if there’s one thing he’s incapable of doing, it’s taking the blame for anything. Personal responsibility doesn’t exist in his vocabulary. Nothing is ever his fault. He never makes a mistake. If things go wrong because of something he’s done or the choices he’s made, it’s either really someone else’s fault or the universe is out to get him. In his mind, he’s practically a god. Infallible and perfect. While in reality, he’s a fucking loser. A loser that will never get anywhere in life because he’s incapable of learning from his fuckups. Can’t learn from them if you never make them… Huffing and puffing, he makes a grunting noise and leans into me. “Did you fucking hear me?” The question is bait and there’s no fucking way I’m walking into the trap.