Tyrant Stalker: A Dark Forbidden Romance (Tyrant Dynasty Book 2)

Home > Other > Tyrant Stalker: A Dark Forbidden Romance (Tyrant Dynasty Book 2) > Page 11
Tyrant Stalker: A Dark Forbidden Romance (Tyrant Dynasty Book 2) Page 11

by Isabella Starling


  Our food arrives soon after. We sit at the coffee table, flicking through Netflix as we eat our fill of the food and drink ourselves silly on the margaritas. I'm glad he came over.

  I'm feeling pleasantly tipsy as time moves on, and I keep glancing at my phone.

  I've been messaging back and forth with the man – I know he's a man now – who commented on my Instagram profile. We don't talk about my real life, and it's a welcome change not having to discuss Robin or the loneliness, the eating disorder, the obvious depression. But there are no messages from mystery man, and Raphael has surely noticed by now I keep staring at my phone, so I put it away.

  I even manage to laugh during our dinner, even though it's barely a chuckle. In a matter of two hours, we're both drunk as fuck.

  "You can't drive back tonight," I say.

  "I can get an Uber."

  "Don't." I surprise myself as much as I do Raphael. "Spend the night. You can... You can sleep on the couch."

  "You sure?"

  "Yeah." I nod. I am sure. I don't want Raphael in my bed, but I'll be comforted knowing someone's in the house with me. Since that incident with the butt plug – and the thief who stole my bag – I've been feeling unsafe in my own place.

  I set up the couch for Raphael and we down the rest of our margaritas. I'm exhausted by the time everything's ready, and relieved to be going to my own bedroom. At the same time, I'm grateful Raphael hasn't made a move on me. I don't think I could reciprocate tonight.

  "Oh, I almost forgot." I turn in the direction of Raphael's voice. "I know it's not really your cup of tea... But I thought it could help you get your mind off... you know."

  "What is it?"

  "I'm hosting an art party in a club downtown. It's called Pulse. They just opened their LA division."

  I nearly faint at the name of that club. I still remember my wild nights at Pulse in New York, when I wasn't even legally allowed to be out and drinking. The night I met Parker in Pulse is still so fresh in my mind, even though it was over eight years ago. But there are some nights you just don't forget.

  "Okay," I find myself saying. "I'd love to be there."

  "Really?" Raphael seems almost as surprised as I am. "You sure? I'd really love for you to be there as my date, but if it's too much..."

  "It's not," I manage. "I want to support you."

  And I need to start getting over Robin's disappearance.

  And I also need to stop calling it a disappearance, because deep down, where it matters most, I know the truth – that my brother is dead.

  Chapter 16

  Nox

  It's so easy to become a part of Elise's life. Call it morbid fascination, or obsession if you want. But when I run into her at a grocery store downtown, I can't help but approach her. My need to remain close to Dove, to stay in her life, is fucking sickening.

  Elise is easy. I compliment her dog and the little shit yaps at me, not shutting up for a second while I hit on its owner. Ten minutes later, and I have a date I don't want. How easy it is for her to move on from Robin. It fucking disgusts me.

  Of course, I have an ulterior motive. I know about Raphael's little club event, and thanks to the listening device I planted on Dove's phone, I know she's going there with him. They may not have kissed at her apartment last night, but they sure as fuck will at the club. Dove's looking for something, someone, to drown her pitiful sorrows in, but I'll be fucking damned if it’ll be Raphael.

  It's time for me to make an appearance in Dove's life again.

  I'll act like I didn't know she was there, of course. How could I? It's not like I've been stalking her for years. She has no fucking clue about my sickness. No idea she's still the object of my obsession.

  But tonight's going to be special. Dove will be back in my life and I'll be back in hers. I'll be her shoulder to cry on. I'll be her savior, the man who saves her from herself, even if I can't save her from myself.

  "Do I look good?" Elise fusses with her hair in the rearview mirror. She didn't want to take the bike, so I've been forced to arrive at Pulse in her fucking bubblegum princess ride. I give her a quick glance and mutter something positive in response, forgetting about it the moment I close my mouth. She does look good, but I don't give a shit about her appearance. She could look like a million bucks and I'd still only have eyes for Dove.

  "Aren't you going to help me out of the car?" Elise pouts as she looks at me, and I look her dead in the eyes, finally seeing her for what she really is. A fucking idiot, who's already moved on from Robin. Tonight isn't about us, it's about Elise following around that schmuck photographer and throwing herself at him when Dove isn't looking, which suits me just fine. At least she'll keep Raphael busy while I make Dove mine again.

  "Help yourself," I growl at her, opening the door and getting out of the princess wagon. Elise huffs and puffs behind me, following me into the club. We face our first issue – the bouncer holding up a guest list. But I slip him a couple hundreds, and just like that, we're in. The blocky, huge guy raises the red velvet rope, and into Pulse we walk.

  My eyes drink in the inside of the place. Swanky. Pretentious as shit. Art is displayed on the club walls and lo-fi, chilled music plays through the speakers. People are drinking ridiculously colored cocktails and mingling in small groups. Elise stands out like a sore thumb, but then again, so do I.

  My date is wearing a tight bandage pink dress that clings to her sexy body, and sky-high heels with the tiniest handbag known to humankind. At least Pepper's not with her, because I'd lose my damn mind if I had to listen to that thing bark all fucking night long.

  I stand out just as much in my beaten old leather aviator jacket, accompanied by ripped black jeans and a white V-neck. Elise tried to convince me to wear a shirt, but I wasn't having any of her shit.

  Scanning the crowd, I realize Dove isn't here yet, and neither is photographer prick. Fucking good. It gives me some time to get my bearings, even though it makes me fucking paranoid about them making out when I'm not looking.

  I buy Elise a ridiculous overpriced cocktail and myself a twenty-dollar bottle of beer. I fight the urge to throw an insult at the guy manning the bar who gives me a smug grin as I grab the drinks from him. Elise wraps her glossy pink pout around the straw in her drink, and I guzzle the beer, my heart pounding in tune with the music.

  The moment Dove enters the room, the entire atmosphere of the place changes in an instant. I can feel her, smell her. I don't even see her yet but her electrifying presence has made the hairs on my neck stand on end.

  "Oh God," Elise mutters next to me.

  "What's up?" I take another swig of the beer, feigning casualness. As if I didn't fucking know this would happen. I planted the idea of coming here in Elise's head. It barely took any coercing.

  "My ex is here," she groans, but she sounds fucking delighted to me. As depressing as it is how fast she's moved on from Robin, I find relief in the way her eyes devour Raphael who enters the room in an all-black outfit that costs more than my bike, probably. "Fuck. And he's with..."

  She doesn't get to finish her sentence. Raphael's gaze finds us, darkening. I half expect him to march over, readying myself for the inevitable face-off. Instead, he puts a proprietorial arm around the woman standing next to him, shifting his body so she can't see us.

  But I'd recognize Dove anywhere, from any fucking angle. I've been stalking her for long enough that every feature of hers is engrained in my mind, for-fucking-ever. Her hair is a glossy dark sheet of silk, straightened to perfection. She's wearing a long-sleeved black dress with a scooped back. She doesn't have any scars there. It doesn't escape me how she keeps correcting her hair, though, making sure some of it is always falling over her face to cover up what I did to her.

  I wish she wouldn't do that. I wish she'd be fucking proud of my gift, show it off to everyone around her. They should know she's mine. They should know I'm crazy enough to kill for her. I don't have limits anymore. I'll do any-fucking-thing to keep Dove tethe
red to me.

  I wait not-so-patiently for her to notice me. I keep Elise entertained, making her down one cocktail after another. I keep it to one beer – I need to keep my wits about me if I want to impress Dove. The more Elise drinks though, the more of a mess she is, which works fine for me. She's going to embarrass herself, and I'll leave Raphael to deal with it while I leave with Dove on the back of my bike, which I parked up here a few hours ago. There's no fucking way I'm leaving with Elise tonight.

  No, I'm leaving with my little bird.

  I make a mental note not to call her that. I need to keep up pretenses with the game of messages we've been sending to one another through Instagram. I don't want her to know it's me yet, and a part of me wonders why I'm keeping that a secret. Maybe it's because I feel safer knowing I have one last card up my sleeve.

  Elise is getting impatient. She's fidgety, eager to see Raphael, to speak to him, and we both know she won't last much longer. When she finally comes up with some bullshit excuse to go see her 'old friend' and asks me to come with, I nod along. She hooks a proprietorial arm through mine and totters over to where Raphael and Dove are standing.

  I've been close enough to her to sate my immediate need to have her nearby, but this is on another level. I get to speak to her. I get to see the look of pure shock in her face when she realizes it's really me. And I can't fucking wait to wreck her all over again.

  "Raphael?" Elise speaks up in her squeaky voice, and the slimy asshole turns around to face her. But I miss his reaction, because my eyes are zeroed in on Dove, a sly smirk playing on my lips as she also turns around.

  She looks at me, really fucking looks at me, and the sight of those eyes on mine makes me hard as fuck. Her pupils dilate. Her breath catches in her throat. She looks fucking terrified, unable to look away.

  "P-Parker?" she whispers.

  "Hey, Dove," Elise jumps in, practically purring with excitement as she wraps her friend in a hug. "This is Nox, um, er..." She looks at me, desperately begging for help. The bitch doesn't even know my fucking last name. But I refuse to help her out, just staring with a smirk. "Well, this is Nox. Nox, this is Dove. And Raphael. He's a photographer."

  "Hello," I answer easily, focusing on the guy and shaking his hand. He has a strong handshake, confident. I lazily turn my attention to Dove next, giving her a crooked smile. "Hey."

  "His name isn't Nox," Dove hisses, surreptitiously touching the scar on her face. Good, it feels fucking good to scare her like this. "It's Parker, Parker Miller."

  "Huh?" I raise my brows, staring her down. "You must be confusing me with someone."

  "You know I'm not." Her words are coming out in a snarl, and Raphael looks at her with concern.

  "You okay, Dove?"

  "No, I'm not okay," she mutters.

  "So, Raphael," Elise cuts in, running her fingers over his arm. "I haven't seen you in a while. How've you been?"

  For a moment, Raphael takes his eyes off Dove, but a moment is all I need. Dove pushes through the crowd and I follow, hot on her trail. I reach for her arm, and she pulls it away from me, turning around to snarl.

  "Stay the fuck away from me."

  "I can't," I mutter, quiet enough so she can't hear it. I keep following her like I always do. She pushes through the back exit into the alleyway behind the club and I'm still hot on her trail.

  "Dove, wait."

  "No," she shakes her head vehemently. "Just leave me alone, Parker."

  "It's Nox these days."

  "No, it's not." She looks pissed off. Her face is red, blotchy, apart from the scar that mars it, which is strikingly pale. She's never looked more beautiful, but then again, I come to that conclusion every single time I see her. "It's not Nox, it's Parker. Stop fucking lying to everyone."

  "I'm not lying." I make another grab for her, thirsty for the feeling of her skin against mine, but she dodges me. If she wants to play this cat and mouse game, I'll play it with her. But only because I know she'll be mine in the end. The cat always fucking wins. "Dove, please. Would you just listen to me and let me explain?"

  "Explain what? That you're somehow back from the dead? Back in my life? That you're fucking sick? I already know all of that, Parker." She comes closer. My heart threatens to beat right out of my chest as she grabs the front of my shirt and pulls me in closer. "You're sick. I don't know how you found me. I don't know what you want. I just want you to leave me alone."

  I contemplate her words. She thinks she hates me, but she's fucking wrong. I release a long breath before snaking my hand up around her neck. I grab tightly. She gasps and I feel her throat opening for a breath I won't give her beneath my fingers.

  "You don't tell me what to do, Dove," I say. "You never could. Remember? I remember everything. How you followed me around like a lost little lamb. How desperate you were for me. How much you fucking wanted me. And now I'm back. And you can't keep running."

  "I'm going to report you," she grinds out through gritted teeth. "I'm going to call the cops on you."

  My heart beats into overdrive. I remember the night at the junkyard. Robin's body. Getting rid of him as if he meant nothing. He meant everything to her. That's over. There's no room for anyone else in Dove's life. Just. Me.

  "You are?" I ask with a smirk. "You're going to report me, Dove? Why don't you do that right now?"

  I pull out a phone from my pocket and dial 911. I hold the phone up to her, my smile unrelenting as I wait for the operator to click on.

  "911, what's your emergency?"

  "Say it," I mutter at Dove. "Tell them. Tell them and this ends here and now."

  Chapter 17

  Dove

  It's like a mirage. A figment of imagination. There's no way this is the madman who ruined my life eight years ago. But my eyes don't lie. Parker – Nox – stands before me in the flesh. Somehow, he survived that fall in Hawaii, and now he's back to haunt me. And something's telling me he won't give up this time.

  I swallow thickly. The operator is asking if I'm okay. Nox is staring at me with his twisted smile and his cruel eyes and his unfairly handsome face. I want to claw that face. I want to ruin it like he ruined mine. But I'm not brave enough.

  "Sorry, accident," I mutter into the phone. Without saying anything, Nox ends the call and pockets his phone. He doesn't address what just happened, and I stare down at the floor, feeling tears gathering in my eyes. But they don't fall. I don't let them.

  "So, this is how it's going to be from now on, Dove," he says, gently taking my chin in his hands and tipping my head back so I'm forced to look at him. But I don't want to. I can't look at him. I can't meet his dark eyes. So, I close mine, refusing to give him any more of my attention. "You're going to be a good girl for me like you were all those years ago. Right now, you're going to head inside and tell that prick you came with you have to go home. If you want to tell him it's over right now, be my fucking guest. Otherwise you'll do it tomorrow."

  "You don't own me," I hiss at him. "You don't tell me what to do."

  "Think again." His grip moves to my throat. Hard, unrelenting, clenching down on my neck. Suddenly I can't resist. I need this. The darkness I've been trying to avoid my entire life is overwhelming. I've been running from him my whole life. That ends now. "I'm back, and you're done fucking fighting this. Got that?"

  Fingers tightening. Menacing words escaping his lips. He's dark, ominous and so fucking exciting. It's the first flash of temptation I've had in years. And I should've known it would come from him... my damnation.

  "Let me go," I whisper, but it's more for show than anything else, and of course, he does nothing of the sort. Instead, he laughs in my face, letting his fingers wander up my neck, over my lips, parting them.

  "Suck my thumb," he mutters, and when I don't, he raises his hand like he's going to slap me. I flinch but the slap never comes. I open my needy mouth then, and close my lips around his thumb as he pushes it inside. I start sucking. Slowly, hesitantly, but sucking nonetheless. "That's right
, you little fucking slut. You got better at that, didn't you? Had lots of practice?"

  My eyes find his, silently begging for a reprieve I know he'll never give me. He grins while his finger continues to travel. Now, it slips over to my scar. He taunts me by touching it, pressing his fingers into it, smirking at me when he sees the pain in my eyes.

  "I did this to you," he says. "It's beautiful. Maybe I'll add more."

  "Don't, you sick –"

  "Shut up." The hand is back, a silent warning hanging in the air, forever reminding me I'm at his mercy now. "You don't talk back to me. You try that again, you get fucking punished. Stand up against the wall. Back to the bricks, right the fuck now."

  I obey him because I can't help myself. I flatten my back against the brick, eyes silently begging him to stop, even though we both know he won't. I don't know if this is real. It has to be a nightmare. There's just no fucking way Parker is actually here.

  But he ends that little fantasy as he tells me to spread my legs. The hand rises again, and I obey, too afraid of what will happen if I don't. I know full well what he's capable of. I still bear the scars of his anger.

  "That's right," he mutters as he slaps my thighs apart further. "I bet you're fucking wet already, aren't you?"

  "No." I glare at him, closing my eyes tightly when he pushes his hand between my legs. Fuck. Fuck. God. This can't be happening. This. Can't. Be. Real.

  "Let's see how big of a liar you are." With one easy motion, he snaps my panties away from my body. I'm exposed to him now. He hitches up my dress, prolonging the moment he'll feel for my arousal. But then he does. Finally. I'm almost relieved when I hear his dark chuckle in my ear. "You lied, Dove. So many lies. You're gonna have to get out of that habit. Or maybe I'll break it for you."

  "Fuck you."

  "You will," he replies easily. "Soon enough, you will. Now let's see..."

  His fingers probe between my legs, smearing my wetness all over my thighs.

 

‹ Prev