Page 23 of Jealous Stalker

Well, for starters, she would be come-drunk from how much I’ve fucked her tonight. Maybe she would be splayed on my chest, trying to catch her breath, while I caught her up on everything I did to protect her today.

“You didn’t that guy who snuck a picture of you on his phone while you were doing the squat, did you, sugar? Well, I did. And I took care of him. Followed him to his car, put a tracker underneath his bumper and followed him home. One single punch in the face took him out long enough for me to grab his phone, delete the photo and destroy his phone. I have twenty more trackers in my workout bag. Anyone tries something like that they’ll get a taste of my wrath.”

I realise I’m whispering the words to her and…and…it feels good. So I carry on.

“Look at you, smiling in your sleep. Almost making me want to smile. You like that? That I’m unhinged enough to break bones in your honour?”

“God, you’re so beautiful it’s almost unbearable to keep looking at you. But I’m obsessed so I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

She makes the most delicious sound, a cross between ‘hmm’ and a sigh. I want to record it, play it in surround sound every waking second and even when I sleep.

“I’ll keep looking into the sunlight of your beauty until I’m blinded. Until your image is imprinted on my retinas so it doesn’t even matter if I’m sightless.”

I keep talking, rambling until she shifts. Her eyelids start fluttering.

It’s time to go. Well, maybe one more minute. One more…

I jerk awake, heart thundering.

Fuuuck, I fell asleep?

And…the hand I left on the pillow. Hers it touching it. Just barely. We’re pinky to pinky.

Leaving is fucking hard. But it’s also the easiest thing I do tonight. Because once I’m in my own bed, a single, hard mattress with very little give, I fully accept what I’ve known all along and resisted accepting.

I’m in completely.

And whatever Ella wants from here on out, however she wants to play this, I’ll give her.

Whatever it costs me.

CHAPTER 10

Ella

Ishouldn’t be this disappointed. But I am.

I shouldn’t be scanning my own pillow like it’s the site of some sacred ritual, hoping to find ink on paper, even a few words. Areply.

But I did. The moment I woke up I looked for it with my shaking hands slipping under the pillow, heart lurching when there was nothing there except fabric warmed by his presence.

He came. I knew it in my bones. My pillowsmelledlike him. Like iron and a breath of something dark and woodsy.

He’d obviously seen my note, read it but he hadn’t left one back.

Why not? Did I…did I do something wrong?

I push the disturbing thought away, uncurling my fist from where I’ve gripped it on Dr. Greene’s couch.

My knees curled up under me like I’m trying to fold myself smaller. Easier to manage and easier to explain. I’m in no moodfor her questions but I signed up and it’s already paid for so…here I am.

She taps her pen lightly against the arm of her chair. She’s noted I’m distracted and that’s her way of expressing her observation.

“…and how many times in the last week?”

I tell her about my episodes. She scribbles on her notepad.

“And are you still watching out for specific triggers?” Her voice is low and smooth, the way you talk to spooked animals or grieving children.

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