Page 20 of His Public Claim
I examine the photos. Each one is beautifully observed, a piece of artwork in itself. Lev is a remarkable photographer, for all his covert techniques. He’s captured me in every mood. Happy, cheerful, thoughtful, wistful. Sad.
My expression is sombre in many of the photos, and as I look, I remember the moments they were taken. I keep my spirits up, as a rule. I don’t allow my situation to get me down, because I know I’m ridiculously lucky compared to many people. I still have both my parents, unlike Lev, who lost his father. Well, rumour has it he lost his father rather like I lost his wolf mask.
But being the Highbury mafia princess has stifled me in recent years, made me lonely while my friends move on with their lives and my family insisted on coddling me. I think I didn’t even realise until I see it here, catalogued in Lev’s images, how frequently I was alone.
I wasn’t though, was I? I had Lev with all those times my chest felt like it might implode because of the emptiness inside. And knowing that switches it all around, a trick of the light on the lens. I was on my own, yes, frustrated, yes. But I was waiting for the event that would bring me Lev.
Out of the corner of my eye I can see him watching me, arms folded defiantly across his wide chest, butlines of anxiety almost invisible on his face, but there. He’s worried I’m going to run, I suppose.
“How long?” I ask, instead.
He sighs. “When you were twenty-one.” He pauses, brows pinching together as though trying to understand the incomprehensible. “I saw you in profile, gorgeous, hair flowing, sweet smile. There was a moment of connection. Before I recognised it was you—Nicole Highbury, my best friend’s little sister—a beast inside my chest scented you as my mate.”
“A wolf,” I suggest, my heart fluttering. It’s the same for me. Something in me has always known Lev was mine.
He inclines his head. “A wolf. I knew there was no one else for me. And when you turned fully, and I knew it was futile. That you were too young and forbidden, and I could never have you the way I needed you.”
“So you stalked me instead?” And I’ve never felt safer.
He nods slowly.
“You could have said, ‘hi’.” I wish he’d stepped out of the shadows and spoken to me. We waited so long. “Isn’t this the moment when you apologise for intruding on my privacy?”
“No.” He doesn’t react with guilt. If anything, there’s a touch of smile in his eyes. “I protected you. I love you. I might have wanted to put CCTV into your bedroom, and watch you every night. But I didn’t. I only ever photographed you—covertly—in public. I didn’t step over the line.”
I open my mouth to say differently, but he cuts me off.
“Besides, you like it, don’t you?”
And when I turn my head the haze of concern is gone from my future husband’s face, replaced by absolute confidence.
“Cocky,” I goad him.
Two quick steps and he’s crossed the room to me. Starting between my exposed breasts, he lazily runs his forefinger upwards leaving a line of fire. Over my clavicle, stroking my neck and stopping at my chin, tilting it up to look into his grey eyes.
“Yes.” He smiles, a little lopsided. Smug, like he’s got the prize he most wanted to win. A warm shiver goes down my spine.
Me. He’s wonme.
“Because you love me, and you enjoy being watched.”
Arousal curls low in my belly at his words and I don’t say anything, but I don’t need to. Lev understands me. Heseesme.
Turning, I gaze at the overlapping wall of glossy paper. I ought to be terrified by all these photographs and by Lev’s obsession. But I’m not. Knowing he’s been following me is a comforting blanket over my shoulders. It’s a reverse invisibility cloak. To him, I was everything, even as my family ignored me until I was useful to them.
“I think I’d enjoy being watched by you more if I knew.”
“We can arrange that.” There’s a brief silence and a braver girl would approach the real man rather than dwell on the photographs. But I’m a chicken, so I stare at the images and remember how alone I thought I was, and how he was there, in the background, protecting me.
What if I took covert shots of him? That would be fun. And justice, turning the camera around. I’d print them as he has, and pin them all over this room. Take over a corner, then more and more. Or perhaps I’d like my own obsession room in his house. More than one.
“You have to marry me now.”
His rough voice cuts through my little daydream.
“Oh really?” It’s not as though I’m unwilling, but a girl would like a proper proposal, you know? Ring and “I love you”, and all that.
“Yep.” He approaches, and my tummy flips with nervous excitement. He’s big. Far bigger than me, and stronger. Lev could crush me easily.
