Page 2 of Hunting Harbor

She is as still and as perfect as a photograph. As soon as I step from the truck, the invisible thread between us pulls taut. She doesn't see me. Walking inside, the bell dings but she doesn’t even look up. I order my coffee and sit at a table in the corner. I am the shadow that flickers at the edges, the whisper beneath her thoughts. The seconds stretch thin, delicate and trembling. My heart thuds against my ribs.She's mine.

She sighs, a dreamy look in her eyes as her pen moves again with mechanical rhythm. Her eyes follow the strokes like she’s tracing someone else’s path through the woods. A thoughtless little rabbit.

I’ve run the calculations. A chance meeting where I open the door to her new life. Despite what she thinks about herself, about love, she has no idea the monster she’s unleashed with her words. I am the equation that balances her.

Her cardigan falls open, the neckline of her blouse pulled askew. She twists a finger through a loose strand of hair.

My muscles coil, and I hold them tense until it almost hurts. I want to taste her. To bury myself in her and make her mine in every sense of the word. To tattoo myself on her skin and force her to accept that her world will center around me.

The light shifts. She pauses, looks at the notebook, taps the pen against the table. Her gaze floats across the café and toward my table, but never quite reaches it as she giggles, a blush spreading across her skin as she furiously writes something down.

I breathe.

Watch.

Wait.

It is almost enough to know she can feel me, to see the tremor in her fingers as they return to the page.

No longer interested in my coffee, I walk to the garbage and toss it, heading back to my truck.

I know how long it takes for her to fold under pressure, how quickly her inspiration turns into doubt, turns into panic. She can’t wait as long as I can, and I can’t wait much longer.

The second envelope will be too much, too fast, but that’s the point. In this letter, I will spill my desire for her, I will tell her exactly what I’m going to do to her. She will think, like she did the first time, that I’m just a fan.

But I’m so much more.

I’m her muse, the one awakening desire across her flesh like my fingertips will soon.

So soon.

I reach across the file and start the engine. The vibrations make the pages hum. My muscles tighten, but it feels good.

She doesn’t know it yet.

The second envelope.

She’ll be mine.

Chapter One

Kairo

IsmileasIwork, each new camera feeding life to my obsession. These are the best you can buy without spending a fucking fortune on installation. Creed’s words echo in my ears, as if I would use his security company to watch my girl. He’d just watch her and pull his chode to her.No fucking thank you.Nope. I’m the only one who can see her. My breath hitches when I hear movement inside her apartment, forcing me to freeze, eyes locked on her door. The shadow of her steps nearly drives me to kick it in, but I remember myself, place the last device by the threshold.

Just to keep you safe, baby girl. Until I come for you.

It takes precision to place cameras at these angles, but I have a steady hand and a watchful eye. Harbor doesn’t know how well she’s observed. I’d have to work on her observation skills once we’re together. There are dangerous men out there who woulddo unspeakable things to her if she’s not careful. I test the feeds, adjust a few, pleased with my placement. They’re discreet, wireless, meant for hobbyists and sleuths. A way to see her every move. Even Creed had to admit they’re the best you can get without having his tech team involved.

The hallway is silent, save for my measured breathing and the clicks of installation. It’s late, and everyone in this building is fast asleep or at the bar down the street. Everyone except my girl. I know from her planner that she’s been doing research, exploring some dark romance for inspiration. As if she could find better inspiration than me. The last I saw, she’d borrowed books about obsessive men and their lovers. She’s lucky she’s got her own man that’s obsessed with her. Not many women could say the same.

I place the audio recorder right by her door, then step back to check its range. Opening my phone I finger swipe until I land on the app. Putting in my Bluetooth, I can hear her rummaging around inside.

Perfect.

There’s silence again, and I exhale, closing the app and sliding my phone back into my pocket. The little device was a good buy. The cameras are too full of static, and this thing will pick up all the noise inside her place. It fits neatly inside the grate that adjoins to the inside of her place. Some kind of air conditioning system, I think. Undetectable. Just like the cameras. Harbor won’t know I’m watching until I decide to tell her. The tremor in my hand makes it hard to screw the last piece, but I manage, licking my lips as I picture her finally seeing what I’ve done.

Once I finish, I step back to admire my handiwork. Feeds run smoothly, covering all angles. Every step she takes will belong to me. A smile creeps across my lips. My pretty girl will never be alone again. Then I turn to leave, knowing in a few hours, she’ll be up and at the cafe, hopefully writing out more of her fantasies.

---