Page 23 of Stalked By the Alphas
My reflection stares back at me from the window, green eyes sharp even in the darkness. I look like my father—everyone says so—but I’ve always wondered if they see the differences. The calculating edge that goes beyond academic interest. The willingness to cross lines he never would.
Theobsession.
I check the time. It’s nearly one in the morning. In a few hours, she’ll wake up, go through her morning routine, and open her bookshop. If my suspicions are correct, she will have an appointment with the naturopath to talk about the herbal tablets. I need to keep a close eye on her and what the outcome is of that. Obviously, the naturopath will assure Hazel that they are safe to take. They are. Unless they’ve been fucked with, of course.
But even if she stops taking them, it will only drop the barrier that is protecting her mind. She will think she is seeing things, but without the altered tablets, she will see things how they are. She will see us coming for her, and quite frankly, that doesn’t bother me.
Carter and Zach are less likely to see the good in this. But I’m the one who understands that love, likeany behaviour, can be conditioned under the right circumstances.
And I’ve created the perfect circumstances for Hazel.
A movement on my laptop catches my attention as I turn back to it. She’s stirring in her sleep, a slight frown creasing her forehead. I brush my fingers lightly over her face.
Watch. Analyse. Control.It’s what I do best.
I lean in closer to the screen, watching intently as Hazel tosses and turns in her sleep. Her face is pinched with distress, likely caught in the throes of another nightmare. Part of me aches to go to her, to soothe away her fears. But I know that’s not part of the plan. Not yet. We’ve been doing this dance for years now, always watching, never touching. It’s torture of the sweetest kind, and she will pay for putting us through this. But I remind myself it will be worth it. At the end of the day, everything we have done for her and to her will be worth it to have her in our arms, in our bed, our cum pumped deep inside her, our bite marks bloody and vicious on her neck, marking her as ours.
15
HAZEL
My stomach muscleshurt a bit from the throwing-up incident last night, but my mind feels fresher. I don’t know if that’s psychological or if it’s genuine. The fact of the matter is, I don’t care. I actually feel like I can go about my day without jumping at shadows.
I stretch cautiously as I get off the sofa, having spent the night here, but not to my detriment.
As I go through my morning routine, I try to approach the day with a sense of renewed determination. No more paranoid thoughts. No more seeing threats in every shadow. I’m going to focus on reality and get my life back on track.
I dress in comfortable jeans and a tee and reach for my favourite purple cardigan. I pull it from the hanger with a smile and then frown at it.
“Dammit,” I mutter as I see a hole in the sleeve. “When did that happen?”
For a moment, I feel the crushing fog descend on meagain, but I push it back. It’s just a hole and not even a big one. It could have happened anywhere. I put it back on the hanger with a reminder to try to sew it up later. It is probably ruined, but I have to try. So, I grab a white one instead and head downstairs to make some tea. The kitchen feels peaceful in the early morning light. I take a moment to breathe deeply, centring myself.
Once my tea is ready, I curl up on the window seat in the lounge, watching the village come to life outside. People walking dogs, opening shops, going about their normal routines. It all seems so wonderfully ordinary.
I finish my tea and gather my things, ready to head to the shop. As I reach for the door handle, I pause. For a moment, anxiety threatens to creep back in. The outside world screams danger, but then I breathe and push it aside. I check in my bag for the bag stash of tablets, knowing the others are still in the cabinet in the bathroom. I debate whether I should take them both to the naturopath, but decide I can always bin them later if they tell me they are giving me these hallucinations.
I take another deep breath, steeling myself. I won’t let this fear control me anymore. Whatever happens, I’ll face it rationally and calmly.
Glaring at the bear, I pick it up and place it on the sofa before I step out into the crisp morning air. The short walk is pleasant, the familiar sights and sounds of the village comforting.
I pass the bookshop and stop at the naturopath’s office. Pushing open the door, I step inside. The waitingroom is empty and quiet, with soothing nature sounds playing softly from hidden speakers.
“Hello?” I call out hesitantly.
Dr Winters emerges from the back room, her face lighting up with a warm smile when she sees me. “Good morning, Hazel. I wasn’t expecting you today. Is everything alright?”
I fidget with the strap of my bag. “I was hoping I could talk to you about the herbal tablets you prescribed me. Do you have a few minutes?”
“Of course, dear. Come on back.” She ushers me into her consultation room, gesturing for me to take a seat in one of the plush armchairs. “How can I help?”
I take a deep breath, trying to organise my thoughts. “I’ve been experiencing some unusual side effects. Hallucinations, paranoia, anxiety spikes. I’m worried the tablets might be causing it.”
Dr Winters frowns, leaning forward with concern. “That’s very unusual. The blend I gave you shouldn’t cause anything like that. Can you tell me more about what you’ve been experiencing?”
I hesitate, not wanting to sound completely unhinged. “I’ve been seeing things that aren’t there. Imagining threats. I even thought I saw a photo of myself that turned out not to exist.” I laugh nervously. “I sound crazy, don’t I?”
“Not at all. These are serious symptoms, and I’m glad you came to me. Have you been under any unusual stress lately? Any big changes or worries?”
