Page 59 of Stalker's Toy

It scalds, makes me feel alive, makes me want to get right back to her, to see her again, to do it all over until I’m burned to nothing.

I’m already thinking of tomorrow.

If she’ll show up at the gallery to clean.

If she'll even show up at all.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Mia

Obsession burns through my veins like liquid fire.

I can't escape it, can't outrun it.

Henrik Lindberg consumes my every waking thought, haunts my dreams, infects my art.

His piercing blue eyes follow me everywhere, that knowing smirk etched into my mind.

I shouldn't want him.

I know this.

But god help me, I do.

I grip my charcoal pencil so tightly it nearly snaps, dragging it violently across the paper.

Dark, angry lines emerge—the curve of his jaw, the sharp angle of his cheekbones.

My hand trembles as I try to capture the essence ofhim, this beautiful, dangerous man who's burrowed under my skin.

"Damn you," I whisper, tearing the page from my sketchbook and crumpling it into a ball.

I hurl it across my tiny bedroom, watching it bounce off the wall and roll under the bed.

Pushing away from my desk, I pace the cramped space, five steps in each direction.

The walls feel like they're closing in, suffocating me.

I need air.

I need to breathe.

I need...

Him.

No. Stop it, Mia.

You can't keep doing this to yourself.

I press my forehead against the cool glass of the window, staring out at the gray London sky.

A light drizzle falls, coating the city in a glistening sheen.

It's been three days since I last saw Henrik.

Three endless, agonizing days.

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