Stalker

Payton Running away from home at 17 wasn’t easy. Let’s face it though, nothing before, or in the ten years since, has ever been easy for me. And I’m doing okay. Sorta. I just need to keep scraping by, living under the radar. Staying out of people’s way, off people’s minds. So when a man walks through my open patio door, stepping boldly into my home, and my life, I should be scared. Frightened. Terrified. But I must be more broken than I realized, because I’m none of those things. I’m intrigued. And I’m wondering if the way to take control of my life is by giving in to him. Nero The first time I took a man’s life, I knew there’d be no going back. No normal existence in the cards for me. So instead of walking away, I climbed a mountain of bodies, and created my own destiny. By forming The Alliance. And I was fine with that. Content enough to carry on. Until I stepped through those open doors, and into her life. I should’ve walked away. Should’ve gone right back out the door I came through. But I didn’t. And now her life is in danger. But that’s the thing about being a bad man. I’ll happily paint the streets red to protect what’s mine. And Payton is mine. Whether she knows it or not.

He’s coming for you. Death is meant to come on a chariot of broken dreams or in the dark trenches of a storm, not in love letters and gifts. He did not take my soul when I was meant to die. He did not want it all the other times that I’ve offered it to him on a silver platter. Yet, time and time again, he reminds me that I am his: His night monster, his dark love, his perfect other. Death was the only thing keeping me alive. He watches me from his corner, taunts me with sweet messages, marks my body with his touch as I sleep. He took the people that I love away from me. Still, no one believed me when I said that I saw the faceless man on the night of the accident. No one can escape death. Me? I’m chasing it.

CASSIE How to make the handsome, brooding man across the street notice me. Step one: Deliver baked goods to his front porch, even though he never answers his door and always returns the containers when I'm not home. Step two: Slowly lose my mind as a whole year passes without ever running into him, no matter how hard I try. Step three: Have my boudoir photos accidentally delivered to his mailbox instead of mine. Have him open the package. Then have him storm into my home for the most panty\-melting scolding of my life. Step four: Still figuring out step four. HANS I'm a dangerous man. A man who has spent the last two decades removing so many souls from this earth that it's a miracle my hands aren't permanently stained red. I'm a man who belongs in the shadows. I certainly don't belong in my pretty little neighbor's bedroom when she's not home, touching her things and inhaling her scent. I shouldn't follow her. Shouldn't watch her. Because no number of cookies on my doorstep will change the fact that love isn't an option for me. The only option left for me is violence.

A haunted house romance. Blurb to come.