Chapter 9 Stalker
STALKER
“Hahaha!”
I couldn’t stop laughing as I watched the screen. That big lug of a troll was having a full-blown meltdown over the tender little messages I’d been leaving for my star, and the stress was well-deserved. The brute kept turning her down, and that made my blood boil.
Him?!
That ugly, muscle-bound, brainless troll got to stand by my shining enchantress’ side and had the fucking gall to reject her? Her?!
No. That was unacceptable. She should have anything and everything she wanted. No one should ever tell her no. And him? He needed to pay for that sin.
I peeled back the lid on the chicken teriyaki bowl I got from that hole-in-the-wall across the street, uncapped my hellfire seasoning, and dumped it over the rice.
* As I stared at the green-skinned monstrosity on the screen, I imagined zapping him dead with my glare.
Chomping into a mouthful, I closed my eyes for a second, relishing the smoky kick of hellfire, the demon-fuel that reminded me of home.
Then I saw her—my star—trying to conceal my other gift, and it made me grin. She didn't even mention the envelope with pink petals I’d slipped under her door. Even when she was being honest, she was still covering for me.
I didn’t know what to say other than she just got me. She understood that I wasn't going to hurt her—just the opposite, in fact. I wanted to praise her and lift her up, to make her feel like the only deity left in this world. I was the only one who saw it.
We’d connected all those years ago, but I felt it now as strongly as I had back then.
She was my person, my soul, my heart. I didn't care if my horns never grew for her! She was my mate, my only, and no one was going to take that from me. I’d failed her once, five years ago, and I was paying for it now, serving my sentence until the moment I was worthy of her again.
I swiveled from the live feed to my recording of the footage from the thirteenth floor, watching Vanny boy try his best to hold it together. Honestly? He needed a little help.
I’d seen him have sex with her more times than I could count, and sure, he let her take the reins, fed her chaos like gasoline on a fire, but when it came to delivering that bone-melting orgasm?
He always fell short. That part took work.
Planning. Research. Knowing every inch of the person you were touching.
That was something only I could give her.
Soon, I told myself. Soon, we’ll be together. Then she’d finally see where I fit, how I had always fit, even if she didn’t know it.
I was mid-bite when a crash echoed through the feed. In strutted the English vampire in all his posh, brooding glory.
I could admit the dude was attractive. Van had that clean-cut, best-friend-next-door charm. Alic (ugh) did the whole I’ll-always-protect-you bit, which I personally found so exhausting, but apparently the internet thought it was hot.
Then this guy showed up—tall, elegant, powerful. Even I had to say damn.
Add to it that he was rich. Now, that was the real jackpot.
When his dominant, controlling side kicked in, I couldn’t look away.
It made me wonder… what if he controlled how I pleased her?
Directed me. Demanded perfection. Like one of those gym class instructors that yelled in your face while you squatted.
Even though you hated it, it got results, so you kept pushing.
I imagined it kinda like that. Someone who would push me to be my best.
As long as it was for her, my star, I would do anything.
Hearing her say the word stop, I immediately snapped my head toward the live feed, muscles coiled, ready to bolt out the door if it looked like she needed me, anonymity be damned.
I watched her closely, searching for any flicker of distress. She took something from Alic’s hand and examined it with a pinched mouth. My breath caught. Was that my rose? The one I’d left for her?
How dare he.
My fingers flew across the keyboard. Windows popped open in a flurry of digital chaos, laying bare every piece of dirt I had on him. I just needed to decide what to nail him with. Maybe the time he worked as a bodyguard for a fae royal back in Faerie? The same royal who ended up brutally murdered.
Yeah, that would throw him into self-destruction if she learned that. She probably wouldn’t care since it had nothing to do with her family or the Syndicate, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that he would care. He would care a whole hell of a lot.
I was preparing to package it all up and drop it into her inbox when her voice sliced through my concentration.
“I’m sorry for hiding it from you.”
No.
I jerked my gaze back to the screen. She was holding his hands, looking up at him with remorse in her eyes. Remorse. What the hell did she have to be sorry for? He was the one pushing too far, always pushing. That was his thing, crossing lines all while pretending it was noble.
All my destructive plans crumbled before my eyes. Lolling my head to the side, the end of my mouth turned down as I jabbed at the delete button.
She touched his face first, gently, the kind of touch that said kiss me. I saw the tension ripple through his body, his muscles tightening, throat bobbing with a gulp, and then… nothing.
He just kept talking, too focused on the stalker to appreciate what was happening.
“Holy fuck, you’re a moron!” I shouted at the screen, tempted to rip it off the desk. I wanted to throttle him, choke him out so he didn't keep making the same mistakes, but let’s be real, even both hands wouldn't fit around that thick neck holding up his gorilla head.
I dragged my palms down my face, trying but failing not to spiral out.
Keeping my eyes on the screen, everything unfolded just how I thought it would. He rejected her. Softly. Politely. Predictably.
And there she was, my bright star that shined like a thousand suns, swallowing her pain with a brittle smile, brushing it off like it didn’t pierce right through her. Like it didn’t matter.
Spitting curses under my breath, I scrolled my mouse and cranked the volume on the recorded sex video. I leaned back, letting the sounds of her moans fill the room, needing to hear her pleasure to keep myself from marching down there and smashing his face in.
Out of all the men around her, he pissed me off the most.
That voice in my head yanked me back to reality. You can’t throw stones when you’ve been an idiot, too.
I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping the darkness behind my lids would dull the ache building in my chest. I tried to shut it all out, my guilt, my rage, my need, but the ache bloomed into a sharp, twisting pain that started in my gut and spread like fire.
Wait, this isn't my normal self-loathing.
Before I had a moment to register that thought, pain ran up and down my body again. It felt like something was inside me, branding me with molten iron. Then it clicked, and I knew what to do.
I needed my medicine because this wasn’t just normal pain. This was my punishment for failing her. For not being there when she needed me. This pain meant something, and it was slowly killing me.
My hands flailed blindly, eyes cracking open just enough to spot the second drawer handle. I yanked it open and felt around for the bottle as my breath hitched. My fingers trembled, fumbling, desperate.
The demon doctor said one pill every two days would keep things stable. Liar. Panic clung to me like a second skin as the fire raged hotter. My vision blurred, my body twisted with heat, and just like that, my dick went hard. Fuck.
When I finally found the bottle, I doubled over, pain ricocheting through me like I was trapped inside a pinball machine. I tried to twist the damn cap, but I couldn’t get the pressure right. Child-proof. Of course.
Another wave slammed into me, harder this time, and I jerked upright, clutching the bottle so tight it cracked. The top exploded off, and pills scattered across the room like tiny lifelines. I collapsed to the floor, scrambling to grab just one before everything went black.
Clawing at the floor, I managed to grab one, cupping it in my hand to keep the pill from slipping away.
Turning onto my back, I let gravity help, hovering a pill above my mouth with a shaking hand.
I relaxed my fingers, and it dropped in, going straight down the back of my throat.
I choked a little as I swallowed it dry, but it was down. Now all I had to do was wait.
Panting on my living room floor, I told myself, this is what I deserve.
My resolve was absolute, even though the doctors said it was suicidal and would only make things worse. That what I was doing wouldn’t help anyone and would, in fact, put me in more danger, but I just couldn't do it. They didn’t understand.
*My thoughts drifted to the first night we met, five years ago, in that club on her twenty-first birthday.
She had picked me from the crowd like a fucking fairytale.
The princess came out and chose her dance partner.
Everyone else wanted her, but she chose me, keeping me with her all night, and I knew why.
I proved it to her on that dance floor, right there, in the middle of it all, with bodies swaying and lights flashing. I worshipped her, tasted her, and showed her why she made the right choice. She opened for me like a flower in bloom, letting the world watch, but only I could touch.
When midnight struck, she gave me her hotel key and told me to meet her in thirty minutes.
I was so excited, so thrilled to have met my match in life.
I bought flowers and champagne, getting ready to celebrate her birthday with just the two of us, only to find, upon my arrival, her room bloody, red handprints smeared across the walls, the door open, and my princess… gone.
The next day, the news broke. The flower of the Syndicate had been attacked, and that was why she ripped out the bastard’s heart and declared war on anyone who dared come for her.
A few days later, she became the new Glovefox boss and moved to New York.
And just like that, my moment with her vanished. Torn away, soaked in blood.
That was the day I stopped using my demon powers.
The doctors told me there was a build-up from the non-use, that the pain would eventually force me to snap and go crazy, but I adamantly refused because I was saving myself for her. So, they found me a workaround: take a pill every two days and masturbate five times a day to vent the pressure.
Not exactly a challenge as I already had cameras all over her building. Watching her, worshipping her, coming for her, those were the easy parts.
But, right now, it was only the thirty-hour mark and the pain had already started. That wasn’t normal. That was very concerning.
The drug finally kicked in. The fire dulled to a low burn, and I sat up, breathing deep, surrounded by pills scattered like fallen stars. I inhaled slowly, exhaled slower, then crawled around on my hands and knees, gathering each one like sacred beads from a broken rosary.
Guess I’m going back to the doctor. Yay.
My eyes drifted to the wall above my monitors, and a familiar peace settled over me. My heart slowed to a steady rhythm. My breathing evened out. Her face always calmed me down to my soul.
The wall wasn’t just a collage. It was an altar to Aniyah Glovefox.
Every inch was covered in photos: candid shots, surveillance stills, printed screenshots.
Some were neatly framed. Others were pinned haphazardly, layered over each other like a living mosaic of her laughing, frowning, walking, sleeping.
My handwriting filled the margins with dates, times, outfits, locations, notes about the curve of her smile and the different shades her eyes and hair contained when the sun touched them versus the moonlight.
Below one smiling photo, I’d taped dried flowers that were the exact shade of her eyes.
In the corner, her red lace thong hung like a relic, pinned like it belonged in a museum of masterpieces.
Right next to it, a photo from the opening night at the Winged Palace, marked with the date.
Every brush of her life against mine had a place here.
It was my love letter. My tour de force. My salvation.
It gave me the strength to keep going. To stay alive. To become worthy of her.
I stood up, pills in hand, and walked to my desk, then I picked up the phone and made the call to the doctor for another emergency appointment.
I had to push forward no matter the cost.
Someday, I’ll be ready, and you’ll finally see me.
Your secret admirer.
Your loyal demon.
Your lifelong mate.
* Song: Lifetime bu Chris Grey
* Song: Always Been You by Chris Grey