Stalkers: A Dark Romance Anthology

by Ally Vance

Hands on her hips, I pound into her, watching as her cunt swallows me whole. “Look at what you’ve done to me, Thali. You’ve fucked everything up.”

  “I’m sorry. I really am.” But her back curves, voice breaking with pleasure, and the way she gushes around my cock tells me she isn’t sorry.

  She isn’t fucking sorry at all.

  I fuck her harder, eyes on the spot where I’m disappearing into her. Don’t know if the moon moved, but there’s a perfect beam of light aimed at where we’re joined. My erection is bathed in her juices, her hole stretched around me.

  My eyes lock on the tight hole above it—

  “Shit!” In shock, I clamp down on her hips, thighs quaking with my next orgasm.

  Feeding my cum into her pussy sets off another violent reaction in her. Skin breaking out in goosebumps, she comes all around me, and it’s almost like her skin also starts to glow.

  Or is that just the moonlight?

  Can’t tell. Can barely see from the aftershocks.

  My burst of insane energy is starting to desert me.

  And I’m still hard . . . God, how can her ass look so good to me?

  I know what I’m about to do before I do it, and it’s an instinct I can’t fight. I filled her mouth with my cum, her pussy.

  This night can’t end without me giving it to her there, too.

  I slide out of her, watching as a gush of my seed trickles from my tip. She rises up onto her knees, turning to stare at me.

  Hand on her nape, I push her chest into the back of the couch, and grab my erection. “I’m giving it to you everywhere, Thali.”

  “Holy shit,” she whispers under her breath, hips arching back.

  Inviting me.

  Doubt she’s a virgin there. Not with her experience.

  And I just pissed myself off all over again.

  I press my swollen tip to her tight hole, spreading the moisture around.

  Then I’m sliding into her there, something I’ve never done with another woman before, and it’s like the last of my civility is stripped from me.

  It’s so wrong.

  So dirty.

  So forbidden for someone like me.

  I love every fucking bit of it, especially how hard she’s strangling me with that grip. I can barely thrust into her, but there’s no fighting the urge, no stopping myself.

  Athaliah whimpers my name and reaches back to sink her claws into my thrusting hips. “Give it to me. Oh God, please baby, give it to me.”

  That’s all it takes.

  A few thrusts and her begging me.

  My body is empty. It’s a miracle I have anything left for her. The last orgasm is a short, brutal affair that’s over almost as soon as it starts.

  It’s also the most intense of them all.

  Mouth open on a silent shout, I shake behind her, near quaking.

  I think at some point I pass out.

  Lids heavy, I force my eyes open. I’m on the floor and Thali is over me.

  Are those tears streaking down her cheeks?

  “I should’ve never gone into that church.” She smooths her hand over my wet brow and it’s then I realize how cold I am. “I should’ve never laid eyes on you. I’m so sorry, Logan. I wish I could’ve spared you.”

  What is she talking about?

  Why am I so cold?

  Better yet, why can’t I move? Can’t speak either, I realize when I open my mouth to ask her these questions.

  “Please forgive me.” She lifts my upper body off the floor as if I weigh nothing and lays my head on her chest; I’m a limp rag doll in her preternatural grip. “I wish it could’ve been another way. That you weren’t human and could handle it.”

  That I wasn’t what?

  Then again, it makes sense. This is a Succubus holding me in her arms and crying for me.

  “I’ll make sure to get you back there before you take your last breath, okay? I’ll get you back to the church. You’ll die among your God.”

  It’s the last words I hear and as that primal darkness encroaches I finally realize why I’m freezing like this.

  It’s because I am dying.

  Chapter Eight

  “You’ll die among your God.”

  “You’ll die among your God.”

  “You’ll die . . .”

  Her prediction didn’t turn out to be literal, but it ended up being true all the same.

  Her.

  Athaliah.

  That horrifying, yet perfect dream apparition that forever altered my life.

  For a dream she was, no matter how real I thought her to be those first few days after awakening in my room.

  The sun had been beaming through the windows, the air lighter than I’ve ever felt it. My body was rejuvenated—dare I even say reborn?—and I’d felt an unburdening of my soul that was near biblical in its proportions.

  As if God himself had reached inside me and ripped out every atom of guilt I was carrying for so long.

  Which makes no sense. I had every reason to feel guilty.

  That first morning, I believed to have awoken from a night of wild sex with a sexual demon.

  A night where I betrayed every aspect of my religion.

  It sounds insane, I know. Yet it took me a few days to realize it wasn’t real.

  As the other priests and the nuns told me all about my unexplained illness, and how I spent days on my bed, mumbling feverishly in my sleep.

  I still don’t know how to explain how I feel about that.

  She was a dream.

  A hallucination.

  Athaliah was never real, and those moments I shared with her were nothing more than a figment of my sick imagination.

  Of course. I mean, come on. Demons, Stigmata-like symptoms, Succubi?

  Another betrayal of my faith, I guess, but I never truly believed it could be real, and this proves it.

  Whatever virus overcame me and dragged me into the most hellish corners of my mind, all it managed to do was bring forth a series of realizations that I wasn’t ready to face.

  If I am to stop betraying God and everything our religion stands for, it’s time I start being honest.

  With myself.

  With my Lord.

  With everything.

  He did condemn me to that sickness, but only to open my eyes. Within that twisted mind-trip, he made me see reality for what it is.

  I’m not meant to be a priest.

  Never was.

  I took this vocation out of grief, to honor my dead brother, when it was never meant for me.

  I’m meant to serve the Lord in other ways.

  No idea what my new calling will be, only that it starts with this.

  It starts with walking away.

  It starts with me facing life out there and seeing where it—where he—takes me.

  Pausing at the door, I turn and take in my bedroom one last time.

  I was only a priest for two years.

  A rector for even less.

  I still have no idea how I ended up in such a position. At the time, it had seemed like pure divine guidance. As if God had wanted me here, when much older, more experienced priests were more deserving than I was.

  Perhaps he did.

  He works in mysterious ways.

  This is meant to be a part of the larger picture of my story, however it ends.

  This experience will forever live with me. That much I know.

  That peace remains—yet so do the images of my dream girl, Athaliah.

  Knowing she isn’t real actually hurts me more than walking away and leaving this life behind.

  Maybe I subconsciously missed having the freedom, the chance, at love?

  Too strong of a word to apply to my dream demoness, but I do feel empty now that I’ve admitted it was all a hallucination.

  Emptier than I do as I prepare to leave this chapter of my life.

  Guess that’s something I’ll have to analyze later on. The only thing I know for sure is the conviction in my gut t
hat’s this is the right thing to do.

  The moment has come.

  No matter how much it might cost me.

  One last glance and I close the door on my way out.

  The hallway is empty; a fact I’m immensely glad for. Goodbyes were already said. Well-wishes exchanged, prayers given. Anything more would just be awkward at this point.

  They might pretend to be okay with my decision, yet I doubt they truly understand. I’m walking away from this life we swore to obey.

  In the end, at least a few of them must consider me a traitor.

  On the first floor, I approach one of the doors leading to the back garden. Sunlight pours in from the small windows on each side, highlighting my dark brown boots as I walk closer.

  Boots.

  Haven’t worn these since I was twenty.

  The jeans, either.

  My t-shirt is new, but my duffel is another remnant of the old days.

  The old me that I once abandoned and now have to rediscover.

  All thanks to a dream of a sexy demoness with golden blonde hair and color-changing eyes.

  Again, that tightness in my chest as I think about that figment of my imagination and have to come to terms with the fact she was never real.

  Perhaps I’m not meant to go out there and find a woman. Don’t see how that’ll be possible. None of them will ever be able to live up to that dream girl.

  Evil that she might’ve been.

  Infatuated with a fantasy woman that was a prostitute and a Succubus. My days as part of the church are definitely over.

  I open the door and am met with the view of the stone walkway heading toward the gate. On either side, trees and bushes shine with morning dew and reflected sunlight.

  God at his best.

  “I’m leaving your house,” I say up toward the sky, squinting as a beam of light hits me in the face. “But you’re everywhere. You’ll lead me wherever I truly need to be.”

  I’ve lost many things in the weeks since I became sick, got trapped in a delusion, then awoke to face the thoughts that spawned it, but God is the one thing I can’t ever lose.

  I still believe that more than ever.

  Even if a sinner like me doesn’t truly deserve his love, I’ll get it anyway.

  That’s what God is about.

  I can’t even be bitter at the method he used to make me face reality.

  Everything happens for a reason.

  And I’ve never felt healthier, nor stronger, than I do now, after battling that virus, my inner demons, and coming out on the other end with this new conviction.

  It’s time to go out into the world, and my true calling will be out there waiting for me.

  I just know it.

  The End. . . For now.

  Spoiler alert:

  She wasn’t a dream: It was all very real.

  Athaliah and Logan will be back in my dark paranormal Ryze series ;)

  About N. Isabelle Blanco

  About N. Isabelle:

  N. Isabelle Blanco is the Amazon Bestselling Author of the Allure Series, the Need Series with K.I.Lynn, and many others. At the age of three, due to an odd fascination with studying her mother’s handwriting, she began to read and write. By the time she’d reached kindergarten, she had an extensive vocabulary and her obsession with words began to bleed into every aspect of her life.

  That is, until coffee came a long and took over everything else.

  Nowadays, N. spends most of her days surviving the crazy New York rush and arguing with her characters every ten minutes or so, all in the hopes of one day getting them under control.

  Follow me on social media to be the first to know how all these arguments turn out :)

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/nisabelleblanco

  TikTok: @nisabelleblanco

  Instagram: @nisabelleblanco

  Books by N. Isabelle:

  Blood Flows Deep

  Silence

  Sacrifice

  Make me Yours

  Claire C. Riley

  Blurb

  Make me Yours

  ‘You know you want me’

  She’s my best friend, and he’s her lover, but he belongs with me.

  She’s blond and perfect, a wild child who always gets what she wants.

  But I saw him first, and she can’t have him.

  This time, I’m taking what’s mine, no matter what it takes.

  Prologue

  They say that everyone deserves a happily ever after, and I wonder if that’s actually true. Staring down at my best friend, my friend since kindergarten, my partner in crime, my sister in so many ways… I’m not sure that I totally believe that anymore.

  How could I?

  When everything had gone so wrong and now this was where we were. Drifting away from each other like two clouds in the sky.

  We were supposed to be friends forever, but somewhere along the rocky paths of friendship and love, things had become distorted. Lines crossed that should never be crossed. Yet as much as I feel sadness for the way things turned out, I also don’t feel bad. Those lines that I blurred like water on ink, they got me everything that I wanted. And that could never be a bad thing.

  So no, I don’t feel guilty, and there is no regret, but there is still sadness.

  “Come on, we’ll be late,” Damen calls from the other room, and I smile a wide genuine smile. Probably the first of my life.

  I may not deserve a happily ever after because of all the things I did to get it, but I still have it, and no one can take it away from me.

  No one.

  Chapter One

  “I can’t believe you were flirting with him!” Louise screamed a high-pitched girly scream that almost made me want to blow my brains out.

  I rolled my eyes. “I was not flirting with him. He’s just someone I talk to in the coffee shop.”

  In truth, Damen was tall, dark, and incredibly handsome. The cliché prince from every fairytale I’d ever read. But I definitely wasn’t flirting with him.

  Louise linked arms with me and sipped her black coffee, the scent of my pumpkin spiced latte making her pull back. She hated the smell because it reminded her of her dad, but it was an addiction I hadn’t quite managed to kick, and so she had to put up with it regardless. In life, you didn’t always get what you wanted, and this was a lesson she’d learned the hard way from her efforts towards trying to get me to quit them.

  She had her bitter dark brew. And I had my sweet amber latte.

  Best friends, yet so different.

  “He’s cute though, right?” she giggled, and I nodded. She looked back the way we’d just come, the small coffee shop I frequented on my way to work every day growing smaller in the distance.

  It was her day off and she’d decided to jump in my cab to work on the pretense of going clothes shopping afterwards, but after seeing her reaction to Damen, I now knew that the whole thing had just been a lie and she’d really just wanted to check out the guy I’d mentioned in passing so many times before.

  “Yeah, he’s cute. He’s not my type though,” I lied, not wanting to tell her how I fantasized about him in the shower. In bed. In the kitchen. Practically everywhere.

  “Really? So your type isn’t chiselled jawline, sexy gray eyes and hands like buckets with fingers so long that they could—,”

  “Stop!” I barked out, not wanting to hear anymore of her crude talk. I had enough of those fantasies to last me a lifetime as it was. Besides, I couldn’t bear the thought of her thinking about him like that. Damen and I weren’t dating, but he was still mine, and had been since the day I’d walked into him in the coffee shop. Literally walked into him, spilling my coffee everywhere.

  “Okay, okay, well, if you’re not interested then you won’t want his number then, huh?” she said with another of her giggles as she waved a scrap of paper in the air between us.

  “You did not ask him for his number?” I gasped, a hand flying to my mouth. I groaned. “Nooo, Louise, why wou
ld you do this to me!”

  “Oh stop. If you’re not interested in him, then what does it even matter?” She flicked her long blond hair over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow at me in question and I let out another groan of mortification.

  “I don’t know. I just…” my words trailed off and I dragged a hand down my face. “You know I’m not good with this sort of thing.”

  “The dating thing?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I thought you didn’t like him,” she teased shoving my shoulder.

  “I don’t,” I lied again, still not ready to admit that I did.

  “Whatever,” she replied matter-of-factly.

  We were at the door of my office building and so we hugged and said goodbye. She was all smiles, whilst I frowned and reached for the door handle.

  “Chinese tonight?” I asked hopefully, desperate to change the subject away from Damen.

  “Aww, I can’t, I have tickets to a concert, but we can raincheck, yeah?”

  I nodded in agreement, disappointment probably etched across my face at having yet another Friday night in on my own. Takeout for one, how depressing. It didn’t matter though. Louise was blind to anything that didn’t involve her and so she waved goodbye and walked away. So I did too, opening the door and continuing my day without her.

  As I stood in the elevator, heading up to the fourth floor, I wondered what it was about me that Louise even liked. We’d been friends since forever, and yet we had next to nothing in common. Different music, different styles, different movie loves. Maybe that was it. Maybe it was our differences that brought us together? I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that nothing had ever come between us before and nothing ever would.

  I lay in bed later that night, the cool autumn air sending a drought from somewhere in the apartment. I’d come to bed early after eating Chinese for one and watching an old black and white movie. It was my favorite thing to do, but tonight for some reason, I just couldn’t find any joy in it.