Page 45 of Darkness Tempt Me
“I wasn’t finished,” he growls, the sound making my toes curl. “I know how much you love to carve things from wood, and on occasion, wax. I know you focus on carving animals rather than objects when you’re stressed. I know the dirty things you like to read. Or how you like a bite of pain with your sex, and howyou hold your breath to make your orgasms that much more intense.”
My heart rate picks up for an entirely different reason now.
What. The. Fuck? “How long have you been stalking me?” There’s a quiver in my voice, but it’s not just fear flowing through my body. It’s lust. “How long have you been obsessed with me?”
“Since the moment I met you, Pey.”
He tugs the blindfold free, and it only takes a few moments for my eyes to adjust. When they do, I know I’m staring into the eyes of a monster.
A beautiful monster.
A monster worth loving.
Chapter twenty-eight
Mavik
Sunlight streams through the window, highlighting the twirling dust motes, making the room look magical. Peyton has been sleeping for about nine hours now, his body clearly needing the rest. His chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm. His bright blond curls almost seem longer since I last saw him, but he still looks like an angel, especially the way his long lashes kiss his skin as he sleeps.
For the first time in years, I have no fucking idea what I’m doing. Things weren’t supposed to unfold this way. I’m a stalker, a hunter, a man of measured calculations, perfectly executed plans, and steady backup plans.
I was never supposed to fall in love. I peer over at my pretty assistant. My husband. My light. Fucking hell, if I’m honest with myself, I’ve been in love with him longer than I realized. I always knew he was my obsession. My unobtainable secret possession that I got to play with and observe from afar. But after I marriedhim and we moved in together, it’s as if he healed a part of me I didn’t knowcouldheal.
That urge to kill—it’s still there. I still crave it like a drug, a high worth chasing, but at this moment, I’m satiated. The urge has been dulled and replaced with my absolute need to care for my husband. My boy.
What the fuck is wrong with me? This wasn’t part of the plan. My plan has always been revenge.
Peyton stretches, reminding me of a cat that vibrates when he wakes. It’s so fucking adorable, and it’s in this moment that I realize I’m truly fucking gone for Peyton. His eyes blink open, and his body tenses against mine. I tense too, waiting for reality to slam into him with brutal force. Peyton is in bed with a serial killer. He was in hiding. He was stalked, chased after, and kidnapped. Sure, I only took him to my secret house in New Vernon, but he has no idea where he is. After I took off his blindfold last night, I think his adrenaline started crashing. My boy needed rest. I fed him, answered a few questions, and gave him water before he started nodding off. Once he fell asleep, I cared for the little cuts and scrapes he got from our run in the forest, glad there was nothing serious to tend to.
My arms tighten around him, afraid that this will be the last time I’ll ever get to see my little light.Fuck. I love him. This is so much more than an obsession now. I love him. Once, I wished I were a psychopath or sociopath, able to not feel, but in this moment, I’m grateful for just how much I can feel, because I want to make Peyton smile. I want to see him happy. If he wants to leave, he’s free to go, because at the end of the day, I want him to choose me of his own free will. I’m still floored he didn’t call out his safe word. It’s one thing that gave me hope last night, but now, in the light of day, I’m scared.
I kiss the back of his neck, preparing for him to jump out of my arms. To scream. To run. Peyton Chase will always be mine, butif he chooses to go, I’ll allow him to think he’s escaped. I’ll have to be satisfied with stalking him from the shadows. Back to the cameras and shrouding myself in darkness.
“Was last night real?” he whispers.
“Yes,” I reply, my voice rough with emotion.
A single tear falls from my face.
I suck in a startled breath. I can’t remember the last time I cried. Maybe the first day I saw my mother sobbing and broken on the floor over twenty years ago? I didn’t even cry when Uncle Mick passed. I wanted to, the pain so deep, but it fueled itself into a cruel anger that led to my killing six people on the list that month.
Peyton flips around so he’s facing me. He gasps when his bright blue eyes take in my face. “Mavik,” he breathes, almost reverently.
It’s too much. My name on his lips causes that possessive, manic side of me to surface. I don’t want to let him go. Fuck that. Fuck these feelings. Peyton is mine. My husband. My boy. My light.
He’s mine.
“Mine,” I growl, unable to keep the word inside. “You’re fucking mine, little light.”
To my shock, Peyton snuggles in closer, pressing his slim thigh between mine. His eyes are intense, almost possessive. So fucking beautiful. I’m captivated by whatever spell he has on me.
“Yours,” he replies, causing me to blink in confusion.
“What did you say?”
He studies me for a long moment. Too long. Long enough to make my heart race with fear and exhilaration. “I said I’m yours. Or at least, I could be yours,” he says softly. Deliberately repeating my words back to me. ‘I could be yours.’The words I thought he didn’t hear.
All the air whooshes out of my lungs, leaving me startled and unsure. Peyton Chase was never part of my plan, but now I don’t want him anywhere else but in my arms. Did he mean it? I’m a fucking killer, am I even allowed this little slice of happiness?
