114. A Predator in Human Form

Continued...

He had proved her wrong.

The first time she had seen him—not just shadows, not just glimpses from the tree line, but him—standing there in full flesh and bones, no longer a fleeting silhouette but very much real…she had felt it.

Fear, real and visceral, sinking into her like claws into prey.

He had made her trembled to her core.

His mere presence alone, his aura that she could still remember weight down on her, an invisible force pressing against her skin, making her limbs weak, making her breath hitch and simply want to collapse right then and there.

He had felt wrong—wrong in a way that set off every primal instinct she had.

A predator in human form.

And now, as she sat curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket and warmed by the safety she had bought for herself, he was probably out there.

Watching.

Waiting for her show herself. 

The thought sent a strange ripple through her, one she couldn't quite place. Not quite fear. Not quite comfort. Something in between.

It was as if a scene from her books. Real to her imagination but not to her experience. This feeling was surreal but not entirely in a good way.

Rose's eyes lingered on the clock once more.

Last night, she had been asleep by this time. And when she woke up, he had already been there.

She hadn't seen when he arrived. Had no idea how long he had stood out there before she opened her eyes.

That thought unsettled her more than she liked to admit.

She needed to know.

Why?

She didn't have a good answer for that.

Maybe because knowledge was power.

That is what she told herself. Yes, confirming the exact time of his arrival was apparently was a very much pertinent piece of information that she must collect.

Wasn't she the one hoping against all hope that he would get bored of her and find someone else?

And now here she is, feeling the familiar tingles of curiosity stirring in her gut, now that she doesn't have the dread of an attack by him hanging over her head that it is making her palms itch to remove the curtain and take a peek.

See if he returned tonight or not.

Her fingers twitched. Itched.

What if he hasn't?

The question burned in her mind, filling her with a restless, reckless curiosity that she knew she shouldn't indulge.

But still…

Her gaze drifted toward the curtain.

Just a peek.

Just to see if he was there.

If he had returned tonight.

Just half an inch.

That was all Rose allowed herself as she carefully peeled the curtain back, just enough to take a quick peek into the domain of her stalker.

The night outside was darker than usual, the moon seemingly absent, leaving the world beyond her windows shrouded in an inky blackness that made her stomach tighten.

It was the kind of dark that held secrets, the kind that swallowed things whole.

Her eyes started at the far right, settling on the tree where she had seen him the night before. It stood there alone tonight, unoccupied. So did the neighboring trees, their empty branches swaying gently under the quiet breath of the wind.

Was he really gone?

Had she been right?

Had he so quickly lost interest and moved on to another? Was he that fickle?

The thought came with equal parts relief and dread.

Relief, because it meant she could have her life back.

Dread, because it meant he might have set his sights on someone else.

But was confused her was when Rose felt like it was improbable because of how fast and how easily it stopped. She should be joyed not skeptical.

Then her gaze hesitated before shifting, moving to the tree directly in front of her—the one in her direct line of sight.

Her breath hitched.

There he was.

He had moved.

Standing there, half-shrouded in shadow, his figure blended seamlessly with the night, but his eyes—his eyes—seemingly glowed without the need of the moonlight, as it remained trained on her unwavering, unblinking.

Like she was something to be studied. Something to be admired.

Like she was the Mona Lisa in the Louvre.

Casually. Patiently he was there right before her from across the field. On the edge of his domain as she sat on the edge of hers.

A strangled yelp escaped her before she could stop it, and she yanked the curtain shut so fast it nearly tore off the rod.

Her pulse was a hammer in her chest, pounding against her ribcage as she stumbled back, one hand clutched over her heart, willing it to slow down, slow down, slow down.

A few deep breaths. In, out.

It didn't help.

Her skin burned with the undeniable sensation of being seen.

Not just seen—watched by him. The familiar feeling returned, marring the relief the dread and the confusion.

Rose spun on her heel, her feet moving on instinct as she jumped off the chair and flicked the sole source of light -the lamp off, plunging the house into utter darkness.

Her hands trembled slightly, her breath unsteady as she backed away, pressing herself against the wall as if that would somehow make her invisible.

As if that would make him go away.

So…he was a patient man, it seemed.

She had been hoping—foolishly—that he'd get bored. That he'd move on, slink back into whatever nightmare had birthed him.

But no.

He was still here.

And the worst part?

Now Rose had an inkling that he wasn't in a hurry.