11. Chapter 10
Chapter 10
Declan
Declan
A fter that first night, it becomes routine for me to follow Savannah home. I watch from the windows as she scuttles around the house, often in a daze, getting Kenzi ready for bed. She puts the little girl down in bed and goes back out to the living room where I stand outside the window and watch her cry.
Tonight she’s done the exact same thing, and it proves to be my breaking point. There is no going back from this now. She’s crying hysterically. Sniffling, her breath hitching, the sound of her stifled sobs filling the air. It is heart-wrenching, the sight of Savannah struggling to catch her breath amidst her pain. How many times have I witnessed this poor woman cry her eyes out, the saltiness of her tears lingering in the air? I can’t bear to watch her suffer like this any longer.
When she calms down, she curls up on the couch and makes a phone call, much like she did several nights a week. She talks to someone for a while. I can hear muffled words, but some I can’t make out clearly. Hearing only one side of the conversation is annoying, because I want to know all of Savannah’s secrets. What is she hiding? What has made her so scared and so damn sad? Someone has done this to her, and I’m determined to find out who.
After the phone call, from my vantage point on the porch, I observe Savannah drifting to sleep on her worn-out couch. Still in her clothes, she appears restless and uneasy. She tosses and turns, her discomfort obvious. An hour passes, and suddenly, piercing screams fill the air. Savannah pleads desperately, her cries directed at someone named Derek, begging him to stop. In that moment, a spark ignites within me. Derek, the person responsible for inflicting harm upon this woman and her innocent child, will face my wrath. I won’t stop until he pays for whatever terror he’s inflicted on my woman. This isn’t the first nightmare I’ve seen Savannah have while stalking her, but I can’t sit back and do nothing anymore.
I pull out my cell phone; the screen lighting up the dark night. I send a text to my brother Mason. He has resources, being the sheriff, that regular citizens like me can’t access.
Me: Find out everything you can about Savannah. Find a Derek who was around her and Kenzi and give me everything you can find on him.
Mason: Will do, but what are you going to do?
Me: I’m going to make sure whoever this Derek asshole is, he doesn’t hurt her ever again.
Mason: You got it. I will get back to you tomorrow.
Me: Thanks.
I continue to watch Savannah as she completes her nightly routine. After she wakes, she goes to her room. Following behind her so I can see through the window to the one outside her bedroom, I watch her get ready for bed. I do this every time I follow her home. I know her routine now and can’t help but wait for her to get undressed each time.
My dick jerks in need. I have to move my hand down and adjust myself. I want to storm into Savannah’s house and fuck her like a rabid beast. But that will not help with her already being traumatized, so I control myself. Telling myself, soon. Soon she’ll be mine. Mine to fuck, mine to pleasure, mine to control. The wait is becoming unbearable, and I’m not sure how much longer I can wait.
A few minutes later, she comes out of the bathroom, still wet, with a towel wrapped around her body. Unhooking the towel, she dries her long caramel-colored hair. There’s something about this woman that has me mesmerized. I could watch her do mundane things forever and not get bored. In fact, I do just that almost every night. She grabs a T-shirt and a clean pair of panties out of her dresser drawers and gets dressed. I wait and watch until she climbs into bed. Despite her earlier nightmare, it doesn’t take long for her to fall asleep.
I take out my spare key and enter the front door. Quietly moving through the house, I stop in to check on Kenzi. She’s sleeping like a baby. Sweet kid. I wonder where her father is and if her father is the one who has caused these girls to be so afraid. Once I make sure she’s okay, I move on to Savannah’s room.
She’s sleeping with her silky hair lying spread out on the pillow. She’s beautiful. I reach down and touch a strand of her hair. It’s so soft. Her delicate hands are folded under her cheek. She looks like she’s praying. Praying for peace and safety. She doesn’t know it yet, but that’s exactly what she’s going to get.
I’m unsure where this thought comes from. Ever since I laid eyes on Savannah, she’s consumed my every waking moment. I envision myself closely watching her every move, constantly fixating on her presence. The image of sliding into her warmth, feeling her tightness, and fucking any other man who’s ever touched her out of her memory overwhelms my mind. The connection I feel is so intense that it’s all I can do to stop myself from acting out my fantasies.
Since Lisa, I’ve avoided all women and trusted them even less. There’s no question that I want to get to know this one. I want to protect her. Looking down at her, a wave of possessiveness crashes through me. A single word keeps echoing in my head: MINE. I’m completely obsessed and have lost control of my actions. My obsession has become so bad that I can’t eat, hardly sleep, and of late, rarely go to work.
She’s supposed to be mine. I don’t know how I know that or why I’m having these thoughts, but it’s undeniable. This woman needs me, and I need her. That precious little girl in the next room needs a family—a daddy. My family and I will love them and protect them from whatever is their causing nightmares and panic attacks.
I step into the bathroom, where my eyes catch sight of the delicate panties she wore prior to her shower. With a gentle touch, I carefully lift them, feeling their silky texture against my fingertips. Placing them in my pocket, the soft, lingering fragrance of her fills the air. Those are my souvenirs for later.
Making my way back over to where Savannah is sleeping, I notice the phone on the nightstand. It’s a cheap burner phone you buy at a gas station. Not good enough for my woman. Refusing to allow another woman to lie to me, my urge to lock Savannah up and keep her just for myself grows stronger. Instinct telling me, if I do just that, she won’t betray me.
I notice all the furniture in the house is cheap and well used. Nothing matches, but the house is spotless. Not a thing out of place. The child’s room is the only one in which everything looks nice and new. You can tell Savannah spends her money on Kenzi and not on herself. I noticed she looked at that little girl like she was her whole life. She loves her and is an excellent mother, meaning she’ll also be an exceptional mother to our children.
What she needs is a man who will take care of her, protect the two of them, and give Kenzi a sibling. The thought of Savannah being pregnant with my child makes me rock hard. My dick jerks against my zipper. I like that idea. A little girl with her hair or a little boy with my eyes. The thought is so loud, I can’t push it out of my mind.
I look down at Savannah again and this time I notice the T-shirt she’s wearing is a fucking man’s shirt. There is no way in hell my woman is going to sleep in another man’s shirt. Instinctively, my fists clench and my nails dig into my palms. My chest is rising and falling faster, and I can feel my temper ready to explode.
Again, jealousy takes over. It’s hard to control, knowing that I’ve never felt this about anyone else. Why do I want to go kill every man that came before me? My heart races, pounding against my chest, as waves of anger and insecurity wash over me. My hands tremble, clenched into tight fists, as jealousy consumes me. The mere thought of another man’s shirt grazing her delicate skin fills me with an intense fury and a burning desire to eliminate any trace of competition.
Every fiber of my being yearns to possess her completely, to be the only one who can leave a mark on her soul. The jealousy twists and turns within me, tightening its grip. A part of me recognizes the irrationality of these feelings. I am torn between the intensity of my emotions and the logical voice within. It’s an internal battle, a struggle to regain control of my thoughts and emotions, but it feels like an uphill climb.
Walking back into the kitchen, I search for the item I’m looking for. The urgency to get that fucking shirt off Savannah has me so wound up I can’t think straight. As I open a drawer, I spot what I need. Reaching for the item, my hand trembles. I walk back to the bedroom, where my beautiful girl is sleeping peacefully, and pick up the bottom of her shirt, trying not to disrupt Savannah’s sleep. If she wakes up to a stranger cutting her clothes off while she’s sleeping, she’s going to be hysterical.
The thought of her being even more terrified of me stops me in my tracks. As hard as it is, I put the cold scissors away and decide I have to approach this differently. She’s obviously been abused, so a gentler approach would be best.
Checking on Kenzi one more time, I know I have to leave them for tonight, but I will not tolerate us living apart for much longer. I want them in my house, and Savannah in my bed.