Page 3 of The Library

But no matter how hard I try, I can’t forget the way he said my name.

Sebastian

She really shouldn’t keep her windows open when she leaves her apartment. Someone could easily slip inside, go through all her things. Exactly like I just did after she left The Library. It’s almost laughable, how trusting she is. Careless. Naive. Especially for a girl like her—so innocent, so blissfully unaware of the shadows that surround her. She doesn’t realize the danger she’s inviting every time she cracks that window open, as if daring someone to step inside and take what they want.

It’s like she’s asking for me to get closer. Tempting me with her ignorance. Doesn’t she understand? The world isn’t safe. Not for her. Not with monsters like me hiding in the dark, just waiting.

She has no idea how long I’ve been watching. Weeks now. Long enough to memorize every detail of her life. The way she brushes her dark hair—so dark it’s nearly black—behind her ear when she’s thinking, or how her full, pouty lips curl around the edge of her cup when she drinks her coffee. Her eyes—those piercing, unnatural blue eyes that look like Heaven itself—don’t belong to someone like me. I’m a sinner damned to Hell, but those eyes, they make me want to ruin her. They hold a darkness, though. Something buried deep, and it calls to the darkest parts of me.

She’s petite—maybe 5’2” and 115 pounds, if that. Her body is small, but it’s a fucking masterpiece. I think about those lips wrapped around my cock constantly. The way she chews the corner of her bottom lip when she’s nervous, and I’ve seen her do it so many times, I can practically taste the tension in the air.

But it’s not enough. Watching her, learning her habits—it was a good start, but now it only fuels the hunger. The longer I observe her, the more I need. I’ve been inside her apartment more times than she could imagine, running my fingers along her bookshelves, touching the spine of each novel like they’re a map of her desires. The top shelf holds her secrets, the ones she doesn’t dare display. The dark romances. The twisted stories of control, of men like me. Men who take what they want and make you love every second of it.

She doesn’t know that I know.

But I’ve read those books. I’ve seen the forbidden fantasies she hides away, the ones she doesn’t want anyone to find out about. She thinks they’re just stories, just a guilty pleasure to distract herself from the monotony of her safe, quiet life. But I know better. Those books are more than an escape. They’re her deepest desires laid bare. She craves the darkness.

She craves me.

She doesn’t realize it yet, but I do. Every time her eyes linger on certain passages, every time her breath hitches when she reads something particularly depraved, I know. She wants what those stories offer—danger, control, submission, passion twisted into pain. The kind of love that leaves marks, both on the skin and deep inside the soul. She hides it behind her quiet demeanor, behind the soft edges of her life. But it’s there. A darkness she doesn’t understand, clawing to get out.

I see it. And I’m going to be the one who sets it free.

Tonight, I got too close. I hadn’t planned on it—not yet—but when she turned down that aisle and collided with me, I couldn’tresist. The way her eyes widened when she looked up at me, like a frightened animal caught in a trap. The fear was delicious, but there was something more. Intrigue. Her body reacted before her mind could catch up—her breath quickened, her pupils dilated. She was terrified, but underneath that fear, I saw it.

She was curious. Drawn to me, even when she didn’t want to be.

It was everything I imagined it would be. More, even. The way her skin flushed under my gaze, the way she trembled when I picked up that book—the one she would rather die than have anyone see her reading. Her shame was palpable, but there was a flicker of excitement in it too. I could feel it, pulsing between us.

I said her name—Lilith—and I saw it in her eyes. That small, flickering spark of something dark. Something that doesn’t belong in her world of cozy sweaters, books, and quiet nights in. She doesn’t even know the irony of her name, and doesn’t understand the power in it. Lilith—the first woman to defy, to crave something more than submission. She was never meant to be innocent. She was meant to be a force of darkness and raw desire.

But she still thinks she’s meant to be innocent, convinced those fucked-up fantasies she reads about are something to be ashamed of.

That’s what makes her so tempting. She believes in the safety of the walls she’s built around herself, in the sanctuary of her books and her quiet, predictable life. She still thinks she has control.

But I’ve already begun unraveling her.

Every time she thinks about me—every time she remembers the way I said her name—I’m pulling her deeper. Drawing her into my orbit. She belongs to me now, and she has no idea. I’ve seen it in her eyes, in the way her breath catches when she remembers our encounter.

Still, I’ve been getting sloppy. Tonight, I let myself linger too long. I followed her back to her apartment again, parked outside in the shadows, watching the soft glow of her bedroom light spill into the night as “Just Pretend” by Bad Omens plays over the speakers of my car. She walks through her room, oblivious, fresh out of the shower with a towel loosely wrapped around her. She drops the towel to throw on just her black panties and an oversized sweatshirt, her favorite comfort clothes. My already hard cock presses painfully against my jeans, making me adjust myself in my seat. She has no idea how exposed she is, how vulnerable. She’s a masterpiece of temptation, with her delicate frame and perfect breasts, bouncing slightly as she pulls the sweatshirt over her head. And I’ve never been one to resist temptation—especially not the kind that begs to be devoured, the kind that was made for someone like me to ruin.

My cock throbs painfully as I watch her. I can’t help but imagine her on her knees, choking on me, her pretty mouth struggling to take all of me. The thought is too much. I pull my cock out, stroking it right here, hidden in the darkness outside her window, as I imagine the way she would gasp, the way her throat would tighten around me. Before I’m even ready, I’m coming all over myself in my car. Fuck.

She really is so beautiful. Too beautiful. Too trusting. Maybe she’s meant to be my undoing, sent straight to me like some dark offering, designed to tempt me further into the hell I was always damned for. She doesn’t realize she’s walking into the arms of a monster, a predator who’s been waiting for something—someone—this perfect to destroy.

But then, she looks out the window. Her eyes search the parking lot, and I freeze. She’s staring right at my car. Shit. My heart races, adrenaline pumping through my veins. She’s looking for me. For a moment, I’m certain she’s spotted me. Butthen I remember—I moved the car earlier. It’s parked in the back now, out of sight.

She walks away from the window, leaving it open, the curtains still parted. Careless. Again. She’s giving me so many ways in. So many opportunities to take her.

But not yet.

I’m not ready to reveal myself. She’s not ready for me. She still thinks she has control. She still believes in the safety of her world. She doesn’t realize yet that I’m the darkness she’s been craving all along. But soon she will. Soon, I’ll step into the shadows, and when I do, she’ll be just as obsessed with me as I am with her.

I’ll make sure of it.

But for now, I’ll keep watching. Keep waiting. I’ve waited this long—I can wait a little longer. The more she thinks about me, the more she’s drawn to me. Every glance at the window, every time she remembers the way I said her name, I’m pulling her deeper into my web. She’s mine. She just doesn’t know it yet.

I’ve already started to break her down. Piece by piece, I’m taking her apart. Soon, there will be nothing left of her safe, quiet life. Soon, she’ll realize the truth.

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