Page 95 of Stalker's Toy

The label shouldn't excite me so much, and yet...

Hastings gapes at us, clearly thrown off balance.

"I...I see," he stammers. "Well, that's...unexpected."

"Is it?" Henrik's tone is deceptively light, but there's steel beneath the surface. "I understand you've been making rather persistent advances toward Mia here. I'd suggest you stop. I doubt your wife would appreciate hearing about it."

The color drains from Hastings' face, and I feel a surge of dark satisfaction.

Henrik's words hang in the air, heavy with threat and promise.

In this moment, I see him for what he truly is—aforce of nature, beautiful and terrifying in equal measure.

My heart pounds in my chest, a mix of fear and excitement coursing through my veins.

I should be horrified by Henrik's possessiveness, his casual threats.

Instead, I find myself drawn to it, to him.

It's as if he's tapped into the deepest, darkest parts of my soul—the parts that crave intensity, that find beauty in pain and destruction.

Henrik's arm tightens around me. "Now, if you'll excuse us, I'm taking my girlfriend home."

Without waiting for a response, he guides me toward the parking lot.

I can feel Hastings' eyes boring into my back as we walk away.

"How did you know?" I ask once we're out of earshot. "About him hitting on me, I mean."

Henrik chuckles, a low, rich sound that sends shivers down my spine. "I've been around men like that my entire life,Nattblomma. I could spot it from a mile away."

We approach his sleek black McLaren and I want to roll my eyes.

Why does he have to be so flashy all the time?

He opens the passenger door for me, everthe gentleman.

"What are you doing here?" I ask as he slides into the driver's seat. "Not that I'm complaining, but..."

"I thought it would be nice to pick you up," he says smoothly. "Give you a break from that deathtrap you call transportation, or walking if you had the balls to do that by yourself at this hour."

I laugh, settling into the buttery soft leather seat. "What, you know my whole schedule or something?"

Henrik's lips quirk up in that dangerous half-smile. "Something like that."

My fingers trace the edge of my portfolio, feeling the rough texture beneath my fingertips.

The charcoal piece inside weighs heavily on my mind, a physical manifestation of the darkness I carry within.

"Your art," Henrik says, breaking the comfortable silence. "Tell me about it."

I turn to look at him, his profile sharp against the city lights streaming by outside.

"It's... intense," I say softly. "A man on his knees, surrounded by ash and debris. His body is disintegrating, becoming one with the destruction around him."

Henrik's eyes flick to mine for a moment before returning to the road. "Sounds haunting. What inspired it?"

I swallow hard, memories of flames and screams threatening to overwhelm me.

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