Unhinged (Deranged and Obsessed #1)

Chapter 4

4

ROMAN

S he knew I was dangerous enough to finally take back the step she had moved toward me, and then another, before turning and leaving.

And I let her walk away. It had been easy as I studied my prey, noticed her fear and anxiousness, and made sure I knew how she naturally reacted to my presence before I made a move.

But even though I let her leave, I stayed in the shadows and followed her. This time staying perfectly quiet instead of purposely allowing her to pick up on my company.

I watched her, hidden in the darkness of the alleyways and streets as she hurried to wherever she felt safest.

The city swallowed many whole, eating them alive until they were nothing but bones and blood and desperation.

My dark beast kept me anchored to her, dragging me along, so I was forced to follow. I was a bloodhound caught on her scent, and nothing and no one could otherwise sway me.

I kept replaying the way she stared at me, so defiant yet curious. I knew the shadows kept me concealed, but I’d seen her clearly on that abandoned street as she narrowed her eyes at me.

So strong, yet she was terrified.

Knowing that—watching her—had ignited something unfamiliar deep in my core.

The streets were quiet, just the occasional hum of traffic in the distance, but she didn’t look back again. She didn’t run. And I didn’t stop. Not until I leaned against the brick building as I watched her cross another street.

The entire time, she never checked over her shoulder, but I wondered if she was doing it purposely, if she actually could sense my presence even though no one else ever would’ve picked up on it after breaking our standoff. I knew I was hidden, but something in her eyes when we stared at each other for those tense moments just minutes ago told me she was so much different than all my other prey before her.

She walked with purpose, but there was an uneasiness in her steps, like she couldn’t shake our encounter. That awareness...it only made me want her more.

She made her way quickly into one of the many identical apartment complexes. The door loudly clanked shut behind her, and I took note she never even paused to unlock the front door.

For a moment, I stood outside, still across the street, watching the windows above as I waited. And then I spotted a dim light flicker on through a single, brick-framed glass square.

Third floor. Second window to the left. I made my move.

I stepped out from the alley, blending seamlessly with the night as I crossed the street and made my way toward the entrance.

I should’ve left.

But I didn’t.

I was hard, my cock throbbing with anticipation and… something else.

The lock on the door was old, rusty—a joke and didn’t even work, which was why she hadn’t needed to take the time to unlock it before disappearing inside the building. I didn't know why I didn’t like the fact that anyone could get to her. But I couldn’t say anyone would’ve been worse than me.

I didn’t think there was much worse out there than a serial killer.

The door made the faintest creak as the hinges protested from being opened. I stayed in the darkness and made sure my movements were silent and careful. The complex was small, cluttered, and filthy as I made my way up the stairs and to the third floor.

It was easy enough to find her apartment since there were only two on this floor, and one of the doors was blocked off with police crime scene tape.

For shits and giggles, I tried her doorknob, not expecting it to be open, but stranger things had happened… like being instantly obsessed in a confusing way with this woman. It was locked, and although I could break it easily and enter, I didn’t want to leave her vulnerable with a broken front door in this city.

So I went about picking her lock, and once inside, I shut the door quietly and stood there just taking everything in. Her apartment was sparse, but I could see little personal touches scattered around.

There was a worn blanket on the tattered couch, a chipped and stained end table with an outdated lamp sitting atop it. It was the only light on in this area, so it must’ve been what I saw come on from the street. The coffee table looked like it had seen better days with one leg duct taped together, and a romance book sat atop it.

The faint smell of age from the crumbling apartment was mixed with something sweet lingering in the air.

The sound of water running was soft and distant, coming from down the hall, and I saw the hazy glow of the bathroom light from the partially open door across from what must’ve been her bedroom.

I moved through the living room and down the short hallway until I stood in front of the bathroom door. It was cracked open just enough for me to see inside. Steam billowed out, fogging the mirror that hung above the ’70s era yellow linoleum sink.

I glimpsed her through the transparent but water-droplet-covered shower curtain. Her back was to me, the spray cascading down the length of her spine, along the small of her back, and caressing the perfect mounds of her ass.

I felt that consuming pull again. The need to watch her, to stalk her… to get closer. But I didn’t move. I just stood there, hidden in the shadows of th e hallway, and watching as she washed her lithe body.

The longer I stayed there and stared at her the more I felt something shift inside me. The hunger for death and blood and pain was there, gnawing at me like it always did, yet it wasn’t exactly aimed at this delectable creature. And although that hunger was potent as fuck, I felt something else, something different, brewing right below the need to kill.

She fascinated me in a way that made me uneasy.

I stayed there until she cut the water off, taking a pace back when she stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around herself. I stood there a second longer before turning and slipping into the lone bedroom in her apartment.

My heart beat steadily in my chest as I went to her closet and deftly hid inside, closing the door just enough to watch her without being seen.

I was still, my breathing even as I leaned against the frame and waited for several minutes. When she finally entered her room and turned the bedside lamp on, I took a step back farther into the shadows. Her skin was flushed from the heat of the shower, and even though I wasn’t close to her, I smelled the sweet scent of green apples clinging to her .

She dropped the towel, and I took in every inch of her slender, nude body. My cock had been hard while I was stalking her through the streets, but right now, the fucker throbbed painfully behind my jeans.

I watched as she grabbed a pair of underwear from her dresser, her movements unhurried, her expression showing she had a lot on her mind. She bent over to put her panties on, and I stared at her pert little ass, thinking about how that fucker at the diner had touched her there. My nostrils flared with that weird-feeling spark of… rage?

That feeling mixed with the fact that she didn’t know I was there, hidden and watching her every move, made me salivate to fucking burst out of the closet and just take her right now. I wanted to claim what I fucking wanted, no matter what.

But I stayed still and quiet and got off on being a voyeur.

Once her panties were on, she climbed into bed, pulled the covers up to her chest, and grabbed the book she had on her bedside table. It was about twenty minutes of me watching her read before her eyes fluttered shut.

With an exhale, she set the book aside, reached up to shut the lamp off, and curled up to fall asleep. I waited, staring at her still by the faint glow coming from the light in the living room, as the minutes passed and her breathing slowed.

The apartment was silent now, save for the soft sound of her breathing.

Only when I was confident she was asleep did I slip out of the closet, careful not to make a sound as I moved toward her side of the bed. I looked around her room and noted the little details.

Her clothes, her tattered book that was dogeared, and a few small trinkets scattered on her dresser. I turned and silently opened the drawer she’d been in, tracing my fingers over the folded underwear and matched-up socks inside.

I hooked my finger under the elastic of a small pair of black panties and brought them to my nose, inhaling deeply. I shoved them in my back pocket—even though they only smelled of laundry detergent and just because they were hers—and closed the drawer.

She had a cheap plastic bracelet sitting atop the dresser, and I pocketed that as well. I was taking souvenirs. Proof that I’d been here and that she was part of me now, even if she didn’t know it. Her wallet was also on the dresser, and I scanned her ID, memorizing her name and all the little details that made her… her.

Isla.

A unique name for a woman who gave me such unique feelings.

I moved back toward the bed and stood over her as she slept soundly, completely unaware a predator could take her life before she even opened her eyes. Her face was calm while she slept, despite the fire I’d seen in her eyes earlier when she spun around after bitch-slapping that motherfucker—the same one I’d be taking care of soon enough.

As much as this thrill turned me on, I kept myself in control. I moved to the other side of the bed and slowly lowered myself onto the mattress right beside her. I didn’t touch her at first, but I was close enough to feel the heat of her body and smell her intoxicating aroma even more potently.

I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, taking in her scent until it filled my lungs.

I moved closer, and the motion of the bed shifting caused her to stir slightly in her sleep. I couldn’t define why she—at this moment—felt different. And I hated it. I hated that she had this power over me… that she made me feel anything at all. But I loved it as well .

I lay beside her, listening to the rhythm of her breathing and watching the steady rise and fall of her chest. She stirred and rolled onto her back. The sheets slipped down to just barely covering her breasts. She was topless, her tits perky and nipples rock hard, tenting the soft material.

I didn’t stop myself as I gently cupped a mound and ran my thumb over the peak, watching in dark arousal as it hardened further. My cock throbbed incessantly, and while I cupped her perfect tit with one hand and thumbed her nipple, I used my other hand to grab my thick cock through my jeans.

Rubbing myself wasn’t enough, so I popped the button on my jeans and pulled the zipper down, slowly and quietly. Her sleep was deep, and I felt adrenaline move through me as I pulled my dick free and started jerking off.

I let go of her breast, grabbed the edge of the sheet, and pulled it downward until I could see her luscious tits. She hummed softly, and I stilled, watching her face to see if she’d wake up. Her breathing was still even, so I started jerking off again as I cupped her bare breasts.

God, she looked good, unaware I was touching her and masturbating right next to her. Before I woke her up, I slipped out of the bed, cock still in hand, and moved around the mattress so I could jerk off right over her.

While staring at her tits and pert nipples, I ran my palm up and down my shaft, feeling my balls draw up tight as my orgasm rose to the surface. My breathing hitched for a moment before I controlled it and held in my groan as my climax claimed me, and I ejaculated.

I angled my cock at her tits and let my orgasm paint her in milky jets. Thick white ropes shot out of my cock slit and covered the mounds. And God, she was so perfect, because she slept on while I defiled her.

I shook my shaft, making sure all the cum dripped out of the crown, and tucked myself back in. And then I stood there and just admired how good she looked, painted up like my whore.

With one last glance at her face, I turned and left. But I knew this wasn’t the end. I’d be back. I’d be stalking her until the moment was right and I figured out if I was taking her life, or making her mine.

I now knew killing her would give me the most intense high I’d ever experienced.

I wanted her to be my ultimate prey.

And this was an obsession I couldn’t control.