Page 4 of The Library

I am the man she’s been waiting for. The one her dark fantasies have always been about. The one who will give her everything she’s too scared to ask for.

And when that moment comes, there will be no escape. Not for her. Not from me.

She’s mine. And soon, she’ll know it.

Lilith

Two days have passed since the encounter at The Library, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him—his mismatched eyes, one a sharp, predatory green and the other split with a line of deep brown. That gaze held both danger and desire, a contradiction in itself—two different worlds, equally dangerous and captivating. His left eye, a piercing green, gleamed with a feral sharpness, always observing, calculating, like the calm before a deadly storm. It was the gaze of a predator, one that could strip you bare with just a look. But his right eye held the real mystery—a line of deep brown cutting through the green, like a fracture in his soul. The brown was darker, more sinister, like something worse lurking beneath the surface, trying to seep out, poisoning everything it touched. Together, they were the eyes of a man who saw everything, who held both beauty and destruction within him. When he looked at you, it wasn’t just a glance—it was a promise. A promise of pleasure, pain, and everything in between.

It’s as if he’s embedded himself in my thoughts, a dark shadow lurking just beneath the surface. There’s something about him that’s both magnetic and terrifying. The memory of his gaze haunts me, like an imprint I can’t shake. He’s the monster in the dark we were all warned about as children—the one you’re told to fear, yet somehow, when you meet him, you can’t help but be drawn closer.

I’ve replayed that moment over and over in my mind. The way he looked at me—not just like I was someone standing in front of him, but like he knew things about me that I didn’t even know myself. It wasn’t just unsettling. It was invasive. He seemed to strip me bare with a single look, revealing parts of myself I had never let anyone see.

I should have let it go. But the more I try, the harder it is to focus on anything else. His eyes follow me in every quiet moment, his voice echoing in my thoughts. It’s ridiculous, really. I don’t know him. He doesn’t know me. And yet, it feels like he does. It feels like he’s already in my head, like he’s found a way to crawl inside and take root.

I’m sitting in the library now, the one on campus, with “DARKSIDE” by Neoni playing on my AirPods, trying to study for an upcoming exam. My English professor assigned a paper onWuthering Heights, one of my favorite novels, but even Heathcliff’s dark, brooding nature can’t keep my mind from wandering back to the stranger at The Library. Heathcliff was nothing compared to the unsettling presence of this man.

Who was he? And why did he seem so familiar, like I should know him, even though I don’t? I’ve been going to that bookstore for years, but I’ve never seen him before that day. How could I not have noticed someone like him before? He’s the kind of person you can’t miss, someone who would stand out in any crowd. So why now?

I flip open my laptop, pretending to get some research done, but my eyes keep drifting back to the empty space in front of me. My hands hover over the keyboard, typing out random words that mean nothing. My mind is elsewhere, stuck on the memory of his gaze—those eyes, intense and calculating. Like a predator stalking its prey.

I tell myself it was a coincidence. A random encounter. But it doesn’t feel random. It feels like he was there for a reason. Likehe was waiting for me. Like I was his target all along, and I just didn’t know it.

You’re overthinking it, Lily.I take a slow, deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. But even as I tell myself this, the knot in my stomach tightens. I glance around the library, at the scattered students absorbed in their own worlds. Nothing out of the ordinary. No one paying attention to me.

And yet, I feel it.

A haunting presence.

It’s subtle at first, like a whisper against the back of my mind. But then it grows stronger, more insistent. The hair on the back of my neck stands up, a wave of unease washing over me. I can feel someone’s eyes on me. Watching.

I look up from my screen, scanning the room, but everyone is either staring at their laptops or buried in books. A few students at the far end are chatting quietly, oblivious to anything else. Nothing seems out of place.

And yet, the feeling lingers.

I grip the edge of my laptop, my knuckles turning white as I struggle to ignore the growing sense of dread in the pit of my stomach. My coffee sits beside me, now cold, but I reach for it anyway, hoping the familiar taste will ground me. The cup trembles in my hands as I take a small sip.You’re being ridiculous, Lily. It’s just stress.I try to convince myself, but it doesn’t work. The feeling of being watched won’t go away.

It’s like he’s here, somewhere in the shadows. Waiting.

The air feels heavier now, charged with something I can’t explain. My skin prickles with awareness, and my pulse quickens. Every instinct in my body is screaming at me to leave, to get out of here.

I push my chair back too quickly, the legs scraping loudly against the floor. My pulse races, and I shove my laptop into my bag, my movements frantic. I need to get out of here. Fresh air.Distance. Anything to escape this invisible pull. I throw my bag over my shoulder, my fingers trembling as I gather my books and notebook.

As I make my way to the exit, my heart pounds against my rib cage, loud and insistent. But just as I reach the doorway, I catch a glimpse of something—no,someone—in the corner of my eye. A figure, tall and unmoving, leaning against the wall right outside the entrance. My heart skips a beat as I force myself to look.

It’s him.

He stands there, arms crossed over his broad chest, his gaze fixed on me. Only a glass door separates us. Those same intense eyes, watching, waiting. His dark hair falls over his forehead, casting shadows across his face, but I know it’s him. I’d recognize that gaze anywhere.

My throat tightens, and my body freezes for just a second, caught in the weight of his stare. The world around me slows down, the sounds of the library fading into the background as if we’re the only two people in the room. His stare pins me in place, and for a moment, I can’t move. Can’t think.

What is he doing here?My mind races, trying to make sense of it.Why is he here, at my campus library?Is it a coincidence? Or has he been following me?

I try to tear my eyes away, but it’s like gravity pulling me toward him. Something deep inside me—a dark, dangerous curiosity—wants to keep looking. Wants to know more.

The fear, the idea that he might be dangerous, makes my heart pound harder. I can feel it in my chest, in my throat, the rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins. But there’s something else, too—something darker. A thrill I can’t explain, a heat pooling in my core. The way he looks at me, like he owns me, sends a shiver down my spine, but it also makes me wet.

It shouldn’t. It’s wrong. But I can’t help it.

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