23. Callum
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CALLUM
S he’s trying to kill me, there’s no other possibility.
Objectively, by this point, I’ll admit that my hobby might seem a little strange. I got the girl. I got the girl in my house, in my bed, and it’s only a matter of time until she admits she’s never walking out of it. So you’d think I’d stop stalking her. But I just love watching her when she’s by herself. I’m also fully aware that I could tell her about it; she wouldn’t mind. My delicious little doll is as twisted as me. But her not actually knowing is half the fun.
I had to cut back my hours at the office because I’m following her every day, as soon as she’s out of school. Good thing I don’t technically need a job.
I picked law because there’s a contract shoved in my face every week, and it’s always useful to know what the hell they’re saying, and I founded my firm because I had nothing better to do. Now I do, so I work from ten to four. Fuck anyone who has anything to say about it. I’ve hired a handful of grunts who can hold down the fort when I’m busy. I represent artists and authors, anyway, so the hours are flexible.
Today, I took the afternoon off to watch her go to her favorite shop in the lanes, and get her hair and makeup done, before heading back home.
And my place is her home. She knows that deep down. Why would she go there and not her dorm, otherwise? We’re officially meeting at six for the parade.
The Halloween parade, like all other events in the streets of the capital, starts in the park, circling it before walking up to the avenue leading up to the palace.
Temporary bleachers have been set up at their end point, where the true spectacles will happen, and I have seats reserved every year. Most of the time, I don’t bother to show, but Olivia was so excited when I mentioned it.
“I’ve never actually seen it properly from up close! There’s always such a crowd. To have the best view, I had to watch it replay on TV.”
No one really goes unless they’re under twelve, but if my girl wants to see the circus outdoors, we’re seeing the circus.
God, I’m so whipped.
I know I could just cross the road and join her, but instead, I watch her walk, that tight ass downright sinful in her leather mermaid skirt. Everyone turns to watch her in the street; she causes whistles, blatant second looks, and she loves it, slut that she is.
My cock tightens in my pants. I know she wants to be watched. Some of the guys shamelessly checking her out aren’t safe, but she doesn’t care. If she could get away with stripping and spreading her legs right here in the street, she would. She wants to be prey . That’s an instinct that calls to me. I really can’t get over how fucking perfect she is for me.
She reaches the square in front of the castle, where a crowd’s already assembled although the parade hasn’t started yet—our meeting point—and looks around.
She’s fucking terrible at it. If she paid a little attention beyond the obvious, she’d see me. Just because I’m wearing a beanie and standing behind a tree shouldn’t keep her from spotting me. But she doesn’t. She never does. Maybe that’s why I can’t stop myself from following.
She’s a little early, so I wait, watching her move from stand to stand: there are various vendors tonight, selling candy cane, cotton candy, hot dogs, pretzels, candied apples. I try to guess what she’ll pick.
Pretzels .
They’re freshly made, so worth the carbs for her. Olivia isn’t the kind of girl to count calories closely, despite being a dancer, but she only eats fast food if it’s extra delicious.
I’m deeply satisfied to watch her queue in front of the pretzel stand.
My watch beeps, which means it’s time for me to join her, and I’m about to walk away from the line of trees, when I see a silhouette pull away from another tree.
So much for calling Olivia unobservant. Why didn’t I see him?
There’s no denying that he’s a fellow stalker, walking like a predator, dressed not to get noticed, in sunglasses and baseball cap, although it’s six and definitely not sunny enough to justify either. Sunset is in minutes.
It would be one thing if he was just a random pervert preying on whatever tits and ass they can look at, maybe planning to flash them. But that guy’s aiming for the same fucking target as me. His gaze is fixed on my gorgeous girl in her black dress, with her red collar.
Oh, hell , no.
I’m not sure what he’s planning. It doesn’t matter. He’s approaching her and he has no right to. She’s mine .
I trail him, and I have to say, preying on the predator is exhilarating in a very different way. When I follow Liv, I know I won’t do anything to hurt her. Best-case scenario, I’ll get to fuck her while she sleeps—which I know is a major turn-on for her as much as it is for me—but most of the time I just derive pleasure from watching her, knowing she’s mine.
I’m not an observer right now.
I am a hunter.