BECOMING HIS OBSESSION
WARNING: This is a STALKER xSTALKER DARK ROMANCE. MUTUAL OBSESSION with DUAL POV.
SYNOPSIS
CARLOS:
Will she wake up if I wrap her hand around my length? My vision tunnels and I move closer to her spread legs, fisting my cock faster. My balls engorge & heart tighten
I throw my head back when the wave hit me & my cum spills onto her inner thigh. I watch it soak into the center of her cunt.
She stirs but doesn't wake. Instead a beautiful word slip from her full lips
"Carlos... " Did she just...
"Thinking of your prey, pretty doll?"
THALIA: "He won't do it"
That's what I thought, but as I watch the man I'm meant to kill, behead a woman without blinking,staring straight at me. I knew, I'm after a monster.
TRIGGER WARNINGS
BOTH:
Stalking
Surveillance
Wet dreams
Graphic violence
Weapons
Threats
Privacy|Home invasion
MMC
Somnophilia
Voyeurism
FMC
Murder
Poisoning
Gory murder board
Questionable morals.
Chapters
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Chapter 2
THALIA POV
"What a very brave way to invite a deep painful death."
The seriousness in his threat hits like a punch, my knees almost give out at the intensity of his grip on my cheeks as he presses them together
"Too soon to show weakness now," he continues in that whiskey-smooth growl, his nails digging into my skin.
Then he releases me.
"But, I've always had a weakness for brave things."
Before I can react or draw breath, his fingers clamp onto my jaw again, forcing my face up. His hands are like ice, but his eyes are lava.
He's so close I can see the faint scar cutting through his neck, covered in tattoos and the sharp, lethal edge of his jaw. He smells like expensive oud and tobacco.
I force myself to look back up at him. One of his brows is raised, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement.
He won't get that satisfaction.
"When a stranger needs something, the word 'please' usually comes first."
He releases my jaw, taking a precise step back, his eyes widening slightly.
"Hmmmm."
Is all he mutters and suddenly two of his men grab my shoulders.
"Let me go!"
"Am I... a stranger?
Carlos lights a cigarette with agonizing slowness,
drawling out each word like a taunt, and anxiety floods my system.
His men release me.
Does he know? No. Impossible. He never saw me that night-I was living with my grandmother across the country when it happened. I've lost the baby fat. I've sharpened my features. I've become someone else entirely.
But doubt creeps in, cold and insidious.
Instead of responding, I turn toward the door, desperate for air, space, and the ability to think clearly without his presence scrambling my thoughts.
"Leave," Carlos's lethal voice halts my step. When did he get so close?
His hot breathe fans my neck, holding my neck against the door.
His chest pressing against my back, a solid wall of muscle and threat, pinning me still.
Something warm spreads through my core and I want to vomit.
Never. Not him. Not when I'm this close
In one swift move, he turns me to face him
"Leave and you'll find out why people disappear in my presence."
He finishes then lets me go
I instantly hate myself for how weak his movements make me feel. All those years of training, and he can still subdue me easily.
"Move" Orio says but I remain still, watching Carlos's eyes rake over me, taking inventory of every curve hidden beneath my leather pants and lace top.
Searching for every angle, every vulnerability.
But he misses the gun strapped to my ankle.
His knife-edge jaw isn't the only intimidating thing about him. It's the pride in the way he carries himself, like he's ruler of us all.
"Interesting."
He breaks the stare first, turning away abruptly.
Then he seals my fate with five words:
"Get her to the table."
Orio's hand clamps onto my arm.
"I'll walk!" I shake away from his grip and he lets me.
CARLOS POV
In my years as the Don of Viper Lane, no one has dared not to fear me. Not my rivals. Not my enemies.
Not even Zara.
And I have never been more aroused in my life.
"I told you," I let my temper flare, "I. Don't. Repeat. Myself."
The temper isn't about her disobedience or lack of fear. It's about the fact that I want to watch that smart mouth form the word "please"-and mean it.
It's about the fact that I want to see her defiance crack. Watch her fair ass redden beneath my palm. Blindfold and suspend her, denying her release just for being bratty.
But I can't do that.
Instead, I watch her face cycle through emotions: defiance, anger, calculation.
She's not afraid.
Most people who face me realize their shit luck and start begging or preparing to die.
Not her. She looks like she wants to murder me instead.
Which is interesting.
Pretty doll stares at the chessboard between us, then eases back into her seat with a smile that's pure provocation.
I tilt my head, cataloging that smile. I want to swallow it whole. I want her to realize that I set the tone for any game, and a five-foot-ten woman with a mouth that's a recipe for chaos won't change that.
I lift a brow at Orio. He points his gun at her head, she goes completely still.
"Play," he orders, "or never play again."
Her lips tremble. Not at the command, but at the cold metal of the barrel pressing against her temple.
My heart peaks. Nice fear, pretty doll.
I watch her fists clench and unclench, trying to hide her panic. But the soft rise and fall of her chest is crack enough.
She's lived with monsters.
It's time she dances with one like me..
"What are you-" She stands to showcase het anger, but Orio shoves her back down with a hard push on her shoulders.
If looks could kill, I would be ash. But I just tip over two of her pawns with ravaging slowness.
Her eyes widen, lips part & close.
Full, soft lips.
"'Never play again'
isn't an empty threat."
The dominance in my words just infuriates her more, but she forces herelf to calm. She's assessing the situation. She knows she's outnumbered. Two of my men are visible. More lurk in the shadows and she probably figured it out
Because my first soldier she played with before Damien is absent
"You didn't introduce yourself or state the stakes." she says with that voice that does things to me
"I guess Damien didn't teach you the rules."
She adds.
Funny. I'm not playing stranger with you.
"You know who I am, Thalia.
Her eyes snap to me and I quirk my eyebrow at her.
Infuriating her further by puffing my cigarette.
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9.7
"Say you're mateless, Laia. No matter what you feel during the Ceremony, don't say a word," he whispered squeezing my bicep so tight I thought he'd leave bruise marks.
I was stupid to hope.
Years of secretly dreaming that Alphason Cael would be my mate and choose me, even while Lysandra clung to his side.
All those fantasies shatter the night of the Moon Ceremony when I am forced to lie about fate tying us together. Mateless... that's what I am to the world now.
All I want is to get my little brother and leave this damned pack forever, until one reckless kiss from Cael binds me to a new kind of doom.
For my sin, Lysandra demands a price: steal the ancient Moon Relic from the Faceless Pack, or lose my brother's freedom. She feeds me lies about helping us disappear, about covering my university costs.
Cael just stands there as the masked warriors of the most dangerous pack escort me onto the ship that will take me straight to Alpha Damon, the notorious leader of the Faceless Pack.
How am I supposed to steal from a man whose very name is shrouded in mystery and menace? A masked Alpha who watches me with burning restraint. Every damn time we're near each other, his nostrils flare and all his muscles tense as if he's holding himself back. Sometimes he fails, sometimes I feel the ghost of his touch on the tips of my hair when he thinks I am not looking.
And sometimes... I wonder if I'll survive being near him, seeing the pain in the depths of his eyes. I need to get out and leave Alpha Damon as a distant memory.
7.4
"You can't escape me, Aurora. You are mine!"
The Alpha King's roar echoed through the palace walls.
But Aurora just tightened her grip on the blade hidden beneath her cloak.
She would never-never-give herself to the monster who murdered her father.
Even if the Moon Goddess cursed her to be his mate.
***
Aurora Regalia once had everything-a loving father, a prosperous pack, and a future that glittered with promise. Her father, the king, even chose her a mate: Logan Charming. Powerful. Charismatic. Cursed.
She thought he was her destiny.
Then she watched him tear her father's head from his shoulders.
One night. One betrayal. Her entire family, slaughtered. Her pack, reduced to ashes.
Aurora jumped off a cliff that night-not to die, but to survive. To become something her enemies would never see coming.
An assassin. A ghost. A blade wrapped in silk.
For years, she trained in the shadows, fueled by one single purpose: revenge. Blood for blood. She would make Logan Charming suffer the way she had suffered. She would carve his heart out and feel nothing.
But fate had a cruel sense of humor.
The Moon Goddess looked down at her shattered daughter and laughed.
Because the man who destroyed her life?
The monster who wore her father's blood on his hands?
He was her fated mate.
Now Aurora stands at a crossroads she never asked for. Every instinct screams for vengeance. Every fiber of her being recoils at the bond pulling her toward him.
But Logan? He doesn't care about her hatred. He doesn't care about her blade.
"You can run, little mate," he whispers, crimson eyes gleaming in the dark. "But I will always find you."
And when he does?
He won't just cage her body.
He'll claim her soul.
7.0
Five years. Four hundred million dollars. And the wedding dress was never mine.
I found out on a Tuesday—a C-list actress draped in my custom Vera Wang, hanging off my fiancé's arm. Six months of French lace. Six meters of Italian silk. Every stitch a promise I had made to myself: someone finally chose me for me.
He locked the doors of that boutique. Froze my cards. Threatened my friends. Told the world I was just a delusional former assistant who didn't know her place.
The internet called me crazy, a liar, a desperate woman who couldn't take a hint. His name trended everywhere. My accounts got suspended before I could say a word.
What he never knew: his empire ran on my capital. His patents were mine. His executive assistant had been feeding me evidence for months—emails, recordings, a paper trail of fraud stretching back years.
I dialed the encrypted phone. A voice said, "I've waited five years."
"Then wait three more days," I said. "I'm going to tear his head off."
8.4
When Emma Walsh catches her boyfriend cheating just days before their holiday getaway, she's left heartbroken, homeless and jobless. Stranded in New York City with nothing but her luggage, she wanders into a bar where one reckless night with a brooding stranger changes everything. Liam O'Connor, an emotionally guarded man who is a brilliant lawyer and a single father, had promised his mother that he would return with his girlfriend. With Christmas fast approaching, he needs a fake girlfriend to survive the holidays back home. And Emma needs a fresh start with a little revenge. The deal is simple: fake smiles, pretend love with no real feelings. But when Emma meets his adorable daughter, bonds with his mother, who is warm-hearted, and starts to notice the cracks in Liam's cold exterior, the difference between real and fake starts to blur. Especially when his ex returns and secrets from the past threaten to uncover everything.
Can two broken hearts find something good under the mistletoe?
8.7
To the world, I was Delia Fitzgerald, the spoiled, vacuous daughter of the South's wealthiest family. But behind the practiced pout and expensive stilettos, I was a sleeper agent, a shadow trained for war.
The mask cracked the night my fiancé, Ansel Gibson, dumped me in the rain. He didn't just break the engagement; he recoiled in physical disgust, claiming that the very sight of me made him physically ill.
When I returned home, I expected my father to be furious about the failed business merger. Instead, I found him paralyzed by a primal terror I had never seen. It wasn't about the money; it was about a "blood debt" and a mysterious parchment that held our family's lives in the balance.
"You will go to the Gibsons and beg for forgiveness," my father rasped, his hands shaking uncontrollably. "If this contract is broken, there will be blood."
My own brothers, men who usually ruled the city, could only watch in grim silence. I realized then that I wasn't a daughter to them-I was currency, a lamb being led to the slaughter to pay for a secret I didn't even know existed.
I didn't understand why the Gibsons were so obsessed with me, or why Killian Gibson-the family's true monster-was suddenly tracking my every move with a predatory smile. He traced the callouses on my hands, marks from thousands of rounds of gunfire that no debutante should have, and whispered that he wanted me where he could see me.
If they wanted a pawn, they picked the wrong girl. I decided to stop running and walked straight into the lion's den, accepting a job as Killian's "Chief Special Assistant."
I was going to find that parchment and tear their world apart from the inside. The game had officially begun, and this time, the "Baby Girl" was the one holding the knife.
7.9
Content Warning :
This story is not safe.
It's addictive, explicit, and threaded with triggers that bite.
It drags you through obsession, trauma, and the kind of desire that hurts as much as it heals.
If you can't handle morally grey men, broken women, or the thin line between love and ruin, stop here.
If you can... keep reading.
I thought monsters only lived in the dark, until I was framed for a murder I didn't commit and dragged into a world that felt darker than any nightmare.
Where he was.
Where he's always been.
Watching me.
He doesn't love. He claims what's his and destroys anyone who touches it.
I tried to run from the shadow that haunts me, but somehow, every time, I end up running straight back to him.
He's danger wrapped in devotion.
My curse. My obsession. My undoing.
I should fear him. And I do.
But fear doesn't stop the pulse between my thighs.
Or the way my heart betrays me when he whispers my name like a threat and a prayer.
They call it madness.
I call it survival.
Because in his darkness, I stopped being hunted.
I became the desire.
He's the shadow I was meant to run from, but the one who left his hunger burning deep inside me.