Page 3 of Silent Stalker

Her hips twitch, and her eyes squeeze shut. I can feel her release building. I know that look, that exquisite tension just before she lets go.

"That's it, Clara," I urge, my thumb rubbing over the scar on my palm. "Surrender to it. Let go."

Her breath quickens, her chest heaving as she succumbs to the pleasure she's been seeking. Her thighs clamp together, trapping the vibrator between them as she comes, back arching slightly.

"Yes!" she cries out, fingers tightening around the sheets.

I groan, feeling my release coil tight. I stroke myself harder, watching her lose control. She wants to be taken, so I'll take her. Not just now but forever.

With a final, powerful stroke, I let go, coming hard as she rides out her orgasm. I see our future in that moment—where her darkness and mine intertwine. A future where we're free to be who we truly are.

I slow my hand, catching my breath as my pulse finally steadies. She's still catching hers, shoulders rising and falling as she lies there, spent.

If she only knew I was watching—how I long to see that look of surrender on her face as she gazes at me. I'm not some figure in the shadows, another nameless, faceless man in a mask. No, I'm the one who will finally set her free. Free from the expectations, the societal norms, and the guilt that chains her.

I'll give her a choice soon—a chance to accept who she really is and embrace the darkness that binds us both. Together, we can forge a new path, one that satisfies our deepest desires—apath only the two of us will walk, hand in hand, into the darkness where we truly belong.

For now, she may call out to God in her moment of ecstasy, but soon, very soon, I'll be the only god she ever calls to.

3

CLARA

Ipush through the precinct doors at eight sharp, greeted by the buzz of fluorescent lights and stale coffee. The familiar scent of paper and printer toner fills my nostrils as I reach James's desk.

"Right on time." James looks up from his computer, his blue eyes lingering a moment too long. "Coffee?"

"Please."

He pours me a cup from his coffee maker, his fingers brushing mine as he hands it over. The warmth spreads through my hands but does nothing to settle the unease in my stomach.

I take a sip of the dark roast coffee with cream, exactly how I like it. James shuffles through a stack of papers on his desk and pulls out a manila folder.

"Standard consulting agreement." He slides it across to me. "Pay's not great, but you'll have full access to case files and evidence."

I flip through the pages, scanning the familiar legal jargon. My pulse quickens at the thought of diving into this case. Between Dad's declining health and my restless thoughts, I need something to focus on.

"Full autonomy on psychological profiling?" I tap the section outlining consultant responsibilities.

"Within reason. You'll report directly to me, but I trust your judgment." James leans back in his chair. "You're still the smartest person I know when getting inside killers' heads."

The compliment brings a slight flush to my cheeks. I grab a pen from his desk and sign my name with quick, decisive strokes. The scratch of pen on paper feels final and binding—like I'm stepping through a door I can't close.

"Welcome aboard, Dr. Hart." James takes the contract back, his expression turning serious. "Fair warning—this isn't going to be pretty. Our killer's methodical, theatrical. The crime scene photos alone..."

"I can handle it." I straighten my spine, already feeling my analytical mind clicking into gear. "So, walk me through what we know."

James spreads crime scene photos across his desk. "Victim is Michael Parker, forty-five. No priors. Worked as a caretaker at the elementary school. The body was positioned deliberately—arms spread, fingers twisted. The pears and partridge weren't random."

“So it’s been confirmed the bird was a partridge?” I question.

James nods, a grave look on his face.

“Yeah, the first day of Christmas." I lean forward, studying the images. "The killer's methodical, organized. This took planning."

"That's why I need you." James shifts closer, his cologne mixing with the coffee scent. "Your insight into these types..."

I feel his eyes on me as I examine the photos. The old spark between us crackles, but I push it aside. Relationships complicate things, and right now, I need clarity.

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