Page 136 of Stalker's Toy

The way she meets my gaze and keeps meeting it.

The onlookers seem fascinated by the exposed skin.

By the fragility and intensity of it all.

But they don’t know.

Not the way I do.

She stands so still, but even that is a kind of movement.

A kind of wildness and strength.

She shocks me.

She thrills me.

She undoes me in the best way.

She makes me feel like she is an entire museum.

An entire collection.

An entire life’s work all on her own.

Every unspoken word.

Every glance.

Every moment since she left the mansion builds until I’m sure I’ll combust.

Until I’m sure she will too.

I give myself to it.

I give myself to Mia, to what comes next.

I’ve gotten her just right, and she let me.

Built her into the perfect, beautiful, broken toy standing on the stage.

I knew she would.

I knew it all along, but that doesn’t make it less beautiful.

Less obsessive. Less perfect.

I want to stay in this moment forever, suspended above the madness with Mia's skin hot against mine and a hundred voyeuristic eyes feeding our energy.

Mia meets my gaze, green eyes catching the lights and reflecting them back at me.

I hold her eyes with mine, letting her know exactly how perfect this moment is, how everything I've ever wanted is coming true right here under these blinding lights.

She nods, a small motion that would be almost imperceptible to anyone not obsessively tuned into every move she makes.

I love her even more for it, for the way she embraceswhat we are.

I know she feels this, every jolt of adrenaline, every prying stare.

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