Page 51 of Stalker

She didn’t reply as I let her wrists free. She brushed my hands off and got to her feet on shaky legs, leaning on the bench for support. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Anxiety bloomed in my gut like a sour feeling as I regarded her, but she wouldn’t look at me. She just crossed her arms over her chest to hide her nudity from me. Dirt covered her pretty pink dress, and her wrists were red from the cuffs. “Why?”

She sniffed and swallowed, “Because it isn’t what I thought it would be.”

“How?” I took a step forward, but she backed up, finally looking up at my masked face. “How is it different from your dreams?”

“In my dreams he—” She hiccupped and clenched her teeth as her emotions rose, “He worshiped me.”

I couldn’t make sense of her words and what changed from this morning when she was playing with herself on camera for me without reservation. “I worship—”

She cut me off with anger burning in her eyes, “You play with me! You treat me like a toy. You use me for you own sick, tormented pleasure!”

“That’s what you wanted!” I snapped back as she started slipping through my fingers right in front of me.

She shook her head slowly, “Maybe I don’t know what I want then. Maybe I got it all wrong.”

I scoffed as she spoke every fear of mine into existence. “I can’t believe this.” I walked away to where I tossed my sweatshirt and then held it out to her. “Put this on.”

She silently accepted my shirt and covered her body with it, zipping it up and sinking into it like a security blanket. I fisted my hands to keep from ripping my mask off all together and showing her exactly who I was. If I did that, now, she’d run. And she’d never forgive me for deceiving her. I hadn’t had enough time to show her everything she needed first.

I pulled my phone out and smashed the buttons, summoning the car that waited for her around the corner. Then I picked up the burner phone I used tonight and every night since I first messaged her. “Take this. Look at what’s on it and try to tell yourself that you weren’t worshiped by me when you’re done.” I pushed it toward her, forcing it into her hand when she hesitated. “Do with that information what you want.”

Her eyes widened as I gave her exactly what she thought she wanted.

An out.

“Dane.” She whispered, gripping the phone in her hand as she stared at me, confused.

“Your car is in the parking lot.” I nodded to the opening in the maze near us. “Go home, Peyton. Go back to the mundane, and the boring, and the safe. Go back to a man who doesn’t treasure you and doesn’t even stay faithful to you. He’s the only one that treats you like a toy.” I got the cuffs off the bench to busy my hands as they shook. “That was always what you were going to end up going back to at the end of your contract at Hartington, we both know that.”

“I didn’t—” She stammered, taking a step toward me as my words and her feelings jumbled in her mind.

“Go, Peyton.” I roared, pointing to the exit. “Go home!”

I walked away from her because I couldn’t keep my hands or my mind still with all the feelings shaking around in my head. I fucked up; I fucked everything up with her. Somehow, I’d never been more wrong than I was currently, and I didn’t understand how I got it so mistaken.

My boots crunched over the dry ground as I walked to my car, hidden in the back parking lot, taking me away from the only thing I’d ever wanted before.

I replayed every conversation we had. Replaying every bit of research I’d done into her world and into her mind before I even made my first move.

How did I get it so fucking wrong?

How did I fuck it up so royally?

I slammed my car door and ripped my mask off, throwing it on the floorboard before punching my steering wheel and screaming into the solitude.

As I gasped for breath and sat back against the seat, forcing myself to calm down, I realized that solitude had finally failed me. For years, it had been the only thing I longed for.

And then Peyton appeared on my desk in a stack of resumes and I thought, for just one second, that maybe I could keep my insanity in check long enough to let someone else in.

Pulling my actual phone from my pocket, I dialed a number I hadn’t called in years. One I kept programed only for emergencies like this one.

Maddox answered on the second ring.

“Linc.”

The familiar creepiness to his voice triggered a visceral reaction in my body. It felt like broken bones and torn ligaments rightedthemselves inside of my body, healing the damage and setting right for the first time in so long.

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