Chapter 16

As much as I want to go back to my normal depression, versus the bewildered upgraded version I’ve settled into recently, I can’t with Chris here, and he refuses to leave my property. Every time I look out my bedroom window, he’s lounging in my tree looking like he doesn’t have a care in the world, usually fucking around on his phone or hanging out with one of his bandmates, who apparently also have nothing better to do than hang out outside my home. It’s like my house is the new vampire hang-out spot.

No matter how many times I tell him to leave, he just acts like I’m speaking another language and gives me that fucking smirk with that sexy dimple, then ignores my pleading, sometimes demanding words. Once, I actually begged him to leave, which was, if I’m being honest, a real low point for me. And, of course, it didn’t work. So, for all intents and purposes, I’ve been living with a vampire for a week.

It’s another night of normal sad girl routine where I try my best to just rot in my bed and forget everything that happened with Oliver and Chris, and the little vampire brigade. I let out a heavy sigh, glancing at the window. Unfortunately, though, I can’t forget anything because Chris is still lurking outside my house.

His presence is a constant reminder that my life has changed completely. I’m not just the depressed girl, destroyed by a man, who wants to seclude herself in her home anymore. Now I’m the emotionally damaged and confused sad girl, who has an exceptionally handsome vampire stalker prowling outside her house.

There’s still no sign of Oliver, though, which isn’t all that surprising when I think about it. He left me alone for two years without a word. It makes sense that, once again, he has taken another piece of my soul, before leaving me again. That he moved on to someone else once I knew the truth about him. Everything Oliver has ever said to me, every poisonous and damning word, feels like a lie. Vicious and heart-wrenching, Oliver is the thief who stole my heart, held it in his hands, and slowly crushed it just to watch the pieces fall. All with a smile on his face.

If he hasn’t shown up to harm me by now, then I don’t think he will at all. Chris is just wasting his time and pissing off his fans, all while he just sits there in that tree outside of my bedroom window, not giving a single fuck about anything besides keeping me safe. He tries to get my attention any chance he can, which is infuriating and, against all odds, endearing. I try to ignore him. I try to act like he isn’t even there. But I just can’t resist giving him hell, tormenting him a little bit as he sits out there and tortures me with his presence. I won’t fall prey to his games because I know better now.

I know I have much to appreciate about my time with Oliver. In hindsight, though, I am grateful to him for one thing: that he showed me just how fucked up men are. He made me realize that I never wanted to fall in love again. I guess that’s two things, actually. Love is just pain. It’s consuming and mind-altering. It makes you sick, and crave someone else so much that you can’t picture your life without them. It makes you strong, right up until the moment you never see them again. When they burn you, they break you down, so you can’t even pick yourself back up. Love makes you feel lost. Isolated. Just thinking about being in love with Oliver, with anybody, makes my skin crawl to the point where I want to peel it off. Love is fucking agonizing, and I will never let it sink its claws into my heart again.

And, of course, my reunion with Oliver went viral. Because, of freaking course, it did. It’s on every social media site, the entertainment blogs, everywhere. I can’t go anywhere online without seeing that damn video pop up. It’s even been on the fucking news. Everyone is just as shocked as I am that Oliver has returned. He hasn’t made a formal statement to the public, although I keep seeing random photos of Oliver sightings around. Some are totally absurd—like Germany or Italy—but others are a little bit closer to home. Just a little bit harder to deny or ignore. He’s acting like it’s one big game. Like his return means nothing.

My inbox is flooded with messages from people I don’t know, all of whom apparently have an opinion on my situation. I had to take my social media accounts completely private. It’s only because my phone number is still listed under my parents’ names that I didn’t have to get a new one. Literally everyone wants a piece of Oliver Shaw, and if they can’t get it from him, they’ll try me—one of the only people who has actually seen and spoken to him. Everyone acts like they know the true story by seeing a video online. When in reality, they know fucking nothing . If they only knew what the truth was. But I’m not going to be the one to tell them. I just want everyone to leave me the hell alone, including my vampire stalker outside.

I’m scrolling through Facebook when I see a clickbait headline: Oliver Shaw Is Back, and You’ll Never Guess Who We Saw Him With! Hissing in anger at the screen, I toss the phone on my bed and, pressing my hands against my eyes, and let out a loud groan. I’m so sick of looking at him. I’ve seen more photos of Oliver in the last week than I have in the last two years combined. I’m just exhausted from the constant battering of new speculations and opinions. It makes me feel physically sick to my stomach, but I can’t stop looking. It’s the ultimate doomscroll, except it’s my life. I’m just sitting here frozen, wallowing for hours as I scroll the internet to see what everyone is saying about Oliver—what they’re saying about me. And, let’s be real, most people have nothing nice to say when it comes to me, because all of them seem to think I’m the reason he left. That I had something to do with it, and that’s why I reacted the way I did when I saw him. God, if they only knew. They’re not the only ones to think that, though, since Oliver accused me of killing him when he kidnapped me. So… maybe they’re right in some small way.

My stomach growls loudly, interrupting my doomscroll. I can’t even remember the last time I went into the kitchen. Scratch that. I can’t even remember the last time I ate . Thanks to fight-or-flight instincts, I don’t have an appetite. Constant distress wreaks havoc on the digestive system, but I’m also forgetting about all basic human needs and just trying to sleep my way through this nightmare to block the world from my view.

I tilt my head, trying to remember whether I even have any food left in the house. I needed to go grocery shopping before the concert, so I’m imagining there isn’t much food left. So, I guess I’m stuck with whatever I can find because I refuse to leave my house and give Chris a chance to get close to me.

A sharp crack sounds at my window. Startled by the sound, I jump, jolting into a sitting position, and glance at the window. There’s silence, and then I see a small shadow against the glass right before another loud crack resonates through the room. It’s a pebble. Somebody is throwing rocks at the glass. Oh, for God’s sake. My vampire stalker, a man who made Oliver cry in pain with vampiric magic, is trying to get my attention like this is an ’80s Brat Pack movie. It would be amusing, maybe even cute, if it weren’t so exceedingly annoying.

I lay back down in bed, tugging my blanket over my head. Maybe if I stay in bed, he’ll get the hint and stop. Better yet, perhaps he’ll just leave altogether. I have a brief moment of sadness at the thought of him leaving, even though that’s what I’ve been begging him to do all along, right before another loud thud sounds at the window. Unlike the earlier pebbles, though, the new round of attention-seeking rubble is coming fast, the sound consistent. This isn’t a light tap anymore. It’s an angry crescendo. Six pebbles hit the window in quick succession, and I lose it.

Flinging back the covers, I let out a disgruntled shriek as I leap out of bed and stagger towards the window. Through the glass, I can see Chris sitting on the tree, arm pulled back to throw the next pebble. I throw open the window, and he drops his arm, a wide grin spreading across his features.

“Can you fucking stop?” I shout, half falling out the window in my fury. “I told you to leave me alone.” He’ll feel the full force of my wrath, here and now.

“So sorry to interrupt your mindless scrolling on your phone, kitten, but I do believe I heard your stomach growling. I felt the need to remind you to eat something.” Only this devastatingly sexy man could make my stomach growling, and a reminder to eat, sound like he had offered himself up as my last meal. His knowing smile tells me he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

“I’m not hungry. You heard nothing , Chris. Stop pretending like you care about me, and just leave me the hell alone!” My shout has risen to a screech that probably only dogs—and vampire stalkers—can hear now, and I scrunch my face up in an effort to keep from crying. I am so overwhelmed by everything I’ve learned, by the man who has sat outside of my window for a week to keep me safe, by the return of the man who said he loved me. At any given point before that night, I was already an emotional mess. It feels like that’s only gotten worse since the concert.

Sometime during my meltdown, the smile melted from his face, and he’s sitting up straight now, staring at me with a serious expression. “I’m not pretending to do anything. I know what I heard. You can be angry with me all you want. I don’t care. You’re not taking care of yourself, Danica. Go, eat something. Now.” His tone is different than his usual teasing lilt. It’s intense. Commanding. He’s giving me an order, and although I’m pissed about it, there’s a little part of me that wants to do exactly what he’s telling me to do, to let him take the lead and take care of me.

I shake my head, dismissing the thought. Who the hell does he think he is ordering me to do something? He doesn’t get to boss me around in my own home. Well, outside of my home. “You’re insufferable, do you know that? I don’t know why you stick around. I haven’t asked you to stay. I want nothing to do with you. I want you gone! Out of my life. Forever.” I’m seething, my hands fisted at my sides.

“I already told you. I’m not letting you get hurt. Me leaving puts you at risk of getting hurt, so I’m staying.” He cocks his head at me, his face taking on a hungry expression. “But you’re lying to yourself, little kitten, if you think you don’t want me here. I can take your insults, because you don’t mean them. Even though you keep trying to convince yourself that you hate me, that I disgust you, that you want nothing to do with me… what else was there?”

I scoff at him. “Fuck you.”

“Oh yeah, I’m a stalker, a pervert, a creep.” He licks his lips. “But, Dani, don’t think I don’t know how turned on you get during our little spats, and what you do after you close that window of yours. You try so hard to pretend you don’t feel anything for me. But I can hear those little stifled moans as you touch that sweet little pussy. I hear your heart rate increasing, your breathing becomes faster, your blood rushing through your veins as you try not to scream when you come. I hear everything. And deep down, I think you know that. I think you want me to know when you do it.” His eyes rove across my body, a feral glint in them. “And I know that when you’re stroking that little clit of yours, you’re thinking of me, no matter how much you hate that fact.”

My cheeks heat, my lips parting at his filthy words. God help me, all of it is true. After every single little argument, I slammed the window and drew the curtains only to find myself aching, wanting. All because of my vampire stalker. So, after every argument, I slip my fingers beneath my underwear and get myself off. I know he can sense it. I know it tortures him. And I love it, every single fucking second of knowing that he will never get what he wants. Maybe that makes me the sick one. I don’t really care. A small mocking smile touches the edges of my lips as I lean against the side of the window frame. “Doesn’t it fucking hurt, Chris, knowing that you can’t come into my house and touch me the way I touch myself, no matter how badly you want to? That you can’t slide those fingers into my wet pussy, and feel just how hard I clench down on you when I come. Poor, sad, little puppy. That must be true torture for you, to hear me moan and know that you’re not the one causing it. The creepy emo stalker outside of my house, who wants nothing more than to make me come but can’t get inside to do it.” I’m twirling my hair between my fingers, my teeth slowly biting into my lower lip. I’m going to make him squirm for pissing me off. I’m going to make him so hard that sitting in that tree will be its own form of torture. God, I’m going to make him want me so bad, just so I can crush him.

Chris’ eyes are hooded, glazed with lust, as he watches me slide one hand into my hair while I slide the other one down along the column of my neck. “Go. Eat. Stop deflecting, Danica.”

“I’m not deflecting, puppy.” My hand trails across my collarbone. “I’m just showing you what you’ll never have.” I can hear my voice, laced with seduction, as I finally drag my hand over my breasts, thumbing my pebbled nipples before I give them a sharp squeeze. My eyes never leave his, even as I let out a soft gasp as I pinch my nipples under his burning stare. “Is this what you want? You want me to touch myself for you, puppy?”

His jaw ticks as I slide my hand lower, tracing across my stomach. He doesn’t move, outside of his narrowed gaze, tracking the path of my hand as it trails lower.

I finally work my hand beneath the band of my shorts and feel the depth of my lie. I try to act like I’m so unphased by Chris, but in reality, I’m soaking wet from this little show I’m putting on for him. Standing in the front window of my house where anyone could see me, I run my middle finger along my slit before slipping it over my aching clit, letting out a low moan. My other hand slides out of my hair, skimming under my shirt to roll a peaked nipple between my fingers. A shock of pleasure shoots through my body, my legs trembling. If he keeps staring at me like that, all intense hunger like he would happily eat me out for dessert, I’m going to come in record time, and I have a horrifying feeling that I’ll be screaming his name when I do. Fuck, I have lost all control of this encounter.

“Do you want me to stop?” I gasp, sliding my fingers inside of myself, my thumb flicking over my clit. My moans are almost constant now, with his almost hypnotic gaze steady on mine the whole time.

He’s just watching me torture him, hands clenched around the branch he’s sitting on. “No,” he growls at me. “Keep touching yourself, little kitten. I know those little moans mean you’re getting so close to coming all over that hand of yours.”

I quicken my pace, lost in his filthy words and my own desire. Through panting breaths, I ask, “Do you want to see me come? I’ll bet you do. Sweet puppy, I bet you’ve been dying to see what I look like when I come undone.”

His nod is slow and deliberate. I have his full, undivided attention.

My back is tightening, my body is clenching, sharp pleasure gathering in my stomach, as I get closer to my climax under his watchful gaze. I’m about to topple over the edge, my moans sharp and pornographic, when I stop, pulling my hand from beneath my shorts and dropping the hand on my breast.

Chris scowls, his shoulders tightening in rage. “Danica, you better finish what you just started, or so help me, Goddess, I’ll-”

My voice is saccharine sweet when I respond. “You’ll what, Chris? Stare at me to death? You don’t get to see me come. That’s the closest you’ll ever get to that pleasure. Now leave me the fuck alone.” I slam the window shut and whirl away from his furious stare.

I’m walking towards the door when I hear a loud snapping noise and a sudden thud followed by an audible groan. Terrified, I rush back to the window, but both Chris and the branch are gone. I fling the window open, poke my head out, and look down at the ground where Chris is swearing violently under his breath as he stands. The branch is snapped, and lying on the ground next to him. He glances up and notices me watching him. “Fuck!” he rumbles as he looks away from me.

I let out a soft giggle. The puppy is angry, and from this angle, I can see why. He’s harder than I’ve ever seen anyone, even after a two-story fall. But he looks so disgruntled, I can’t help but mess with him. “Did my stalker have a temper tantrum because he didn’t get his way?” My giggling is now full-blown laughter, and I’m clutching the windowsill so I don’t fall over.

“I fucking… I didn’t realize I was gripping onto that tree branch that tight. It fucking snapped, and I dropped on my ass. Are you laughing at me right now, little kitten?”

I can’t stop laughing; I’m basically crying in entertainment as I nod at him. This absolute puppy of a man, my vampire stalker, actually made himself so angry that he just lost his only way to peer in through my window. The tree didn’t have any other branches large enough to hold his weight at that height.

His features soften as my laughter bubbles out. “I fucking love seeing you smile.” He chuckles as he dusts off his shirt. “Yeah, yeah, it’s kinda funny.” That smile is back, even after his fall, and it could send me to my knees. God, I hate him. “Go eat. Your stalker begs of you.”

“Don’t you need to eat too? Or drink… blood or something?” I actually don’t think I’ve seen him eat once in the last week.

“I can last a long time without needing to feed. You, my little kitten, can’t though. So, go on then.” He gestures his hands at me to shoo me away.

“But you do drink blood, though, right? Is that what you, like, get off on? Stalking me so that I give in, so you can drink my blood?” I force a laugh as I cross my arms.

“Seriously?” He cackles at my glare. “Yes, I drink blood, and, yeah, I need it to stay strong. But I can go months without feeding, although it would weaken me significantly, and I don’t drink to kill, not anymore anyways.” He raises and lowers his eyebrows lecherously. “And, as for you giving me that nectar in your veins. I don’t need to do anything for you to want to give me your blood. I can hear your heart beat faster just at the thought of me taking that beautiful neck of yours. But you’re perfectly safe with me. I promise.”

I click my tongue at him in disbelief. “As if I would ever believe those words. You just admitted to me that you have killed before. How can I ever be safe around you? I usually don’t hang out with murderers.”

“I think you’ll believe me and my promises someday.” His words are earnest but tired. “I’m not proud of my past, Dani. One day, I’ll tell you all about it. Everything you want to know about me. Once you’re ready.”

“Keep dreaming, stalker boy. Have fun sleeping on the ground tonight.” I wink at him saucily.

“If I did need to sleep, I would absolutely dream of you and that little show you just gave me, kitten. Now go to your kitchen and get something to eat.”

My breath hitches in confusion at his words. “You don’t sleep?”

“I can, but I don’t need to. Now, you keep getting off the subject, so I can only assume that either you are actually interested in what I have to say… or you don’t have food to eat. I may have walked this earth a very long time, but the ways of humans are not lost on me.” He gives a half-shrug with a gleam in his eye, offering up a cocky grin.

Just that little gesture annoys me, and my spine straightens in irritation. “I have plenty of food. And I don’t care about anything you’re saying. It means nothing to me.” I shrug, letting out a sigh of boredom.

“What can I order you to eat? You haven’t left your house in a week, and I’m willing to bet there’s nothing actually in your kitchen.” He tugs his phone out of his pocket and stares at me expectantly.

“I don’t want anything from you!” I grumble, closing the window on his huffed laugh. I really don’t have any food, but I would still rather starve than let him buy me something. I can’t let him believe that I’ll accept anything from him, including food.

Sighing deeply, I get back into my bed. My core still aches with need after stopping when I was so close to coming, and I’m still absolutely drenched from finger fucking myself under his lustful gaze. As much as I need to come, though, I’m not giving him the satisfaction of hearing me get myself off, of knowing just how absolutely worked up I was for him. He can fuck off. Stupid vampire hearing.

I zone out, scrolling on my phone again, until I hear an unexpected knock at my front door. Groaning loudly, I yell, “What the fuck do you want now!” Knowing that Chris can hear me. He doesn’t respond.

I drag myself out of bed and trudge down the steps to my front door. When I peer through the glass panels next to my front door, I don’t see anyone standing there. I swing the front door open, staying firmly on my side of the threshold, glancing around. All I see is my driveway and, beyond it, the dark street.

“Chris?” I call out. No one responds. I look down and see a takeout bag with the Luxe logo on it, and two water bottles, sitting on my doorstep. My stomach clenches in hunger as I stare at the bag, my mouth watering at the smells wafting up to me on the wind. My hunger wins, and I pick the bag up swiftly, and shut the door behind me.

I set the bag down on the kitchen table and stare at it. If I eat this, then he wins. He’ll think he can just keep doing this. Spending time with me. Taking care of me. It would undercut everything I’ve told him. But, damn, I’m starving though. I pick up one of the water bottles, crack the lid off, and chug it, savoring the taste as I quench my aching thirst. I set the bottle down after drinking half of it and peek inside the takeout bag, where I see an order of chicken tenders and a side of fries with gooey cheese melted on top. A grilled chicken salad and a side order of mac n’ cheese. I tip my head in surprise–a tentative smile forms as realization hits that these are my favorite menu items. How does he even know what I like to order?

Sighing deeply, I move the food to a plate and devour what I can. It feels like I haven’t eaten anything in months, and, for the first time in ages, I finally feel a little bit satiated.

After I wolf down my meal and put away the leftovers, I make my way back up to my room, the second water bottle in hand. Without any thought from my brain, I walk over to my bedroom window and glance down. Chris is on the ground, leaning against the tree now right next to his former home, the branch. He looks up at me and smiles.

For a second, I just stand there and stare at this vampire who has spent the last week caring for me, making sure I eat and sleep and am safe. I don’t know what this is, but it’s confusing. My heart is struggling with feeling cared for and my well-placed mistrust in men. But tonight? Tonight, Chris took care of me—even though he didn’t have to. With a slight smile, I gesture my hand in a small wave of thanks before shutting the curtains and going to bed.