The Obsessive Male Lead Is Actually Scary

Iusedtothinkobsessivemaleleadswerekindofhot.Youknow—theintensestares,theundyingdevotion,thewaythey’dburntheworldforthewomantheylove?Swoon,right?Wrong.ThatfantasywentupinsmokethemomentIwokeupinthebodyofSoniaMitford—theheroineofTheCrimsonDevotion,thefirstobsessiveromancefantasynovelIeverread.Theonethatendedonamysterioushiatus.TheonewithMariusWittelsbach—acharming,possessivepsychopathwhothinksanankleshackleisalovelanguage.NowI’mtrappedinavelvet-drapedprison,shackledtoabedpostlikesomeporcelaindollinagothicfairytale.AndMarius?He’sworsethanIremembered.Sweet,soft-spoken...andutterlyunhinged.“Youdon’tneedtobeafraid.I’lltakecareofyou.”Translation:I’llmurderanyonewhoblinksinyourdirectionandserveyouteaovertheircorpse.“Anyonewhobothersyou...anyonewholooksatyouthewrongway...I’llgetridofthemforyou.”IthoughtIwasplayingtherolejustfine—smiling,nodding,pretendingnottobehorrified.Butthen—plottwist!AlessioSlovene,theforgettablesidecharacter,walksinlookinglikeagoldenretrieverknightanddropsthisbomb:he’sactuallythecrownprinceindisguise.Andhe’sinvestigatingMarius.Finally—alifeline.Maybe.Becausepeoplearevanishing.Thebodycountisrising.AndeverytimeMariuskissesmyforeheadandcallsme“Nia,”Ifeelonestepclosertobecomingthetragicheroineinablood-soakedlovestory.Obsessivemaleleadsaren’tdreamy.They’reterrifying.AndImightbeinwayovermyhead.