Page 20 of The Stalker (Ashburne Chronicles #2)

Thomas

B ianka

The night is too still.

Too quiet after what he did to me, what I let him do, what I begged him to do. My body aches everywhere, my skin bruised, torn, raw, and filled in ways I didn’t think I’d ever allow.

And still I feel him inside me. Every pulse. Every tremor.

Griffin’s weight presses me into the dirt, his breath hot against the back of my neck, his arm locked around my waist like iron. He hasn’t moved, hasn’t let go, hasn’t slipped his cock out of me, not since he claimed me.

Claimed. That word stings. Because I came for him. Because I whispered I was his.

Because it’s true.

Tears slip hot and silent down my cheeks. I want to hate him. I want to hate myself more. But all I can feel is the heat still curling inside me, the hunger still aching for more.

A shift ripples through him.

His body jerks against mine, a shudder ripping down his spine. For a second his grip tightens so brutal my ribs scream, and then it slackens.

He exhales ragged, broken, and something cold slides out of him.

I feel it. Not just in his body, but in the air.

The shadows thicken impossible more. The trees groan low and mournful, and the night grows heavy, pressing against my skin.

My breath catches in my throat, terror freezing me still as the darkness pulls itself together.

And then I see him.

He stands at the edge of the clearing, not flesh, not bone, just a shape made of shadow and moonlight, a man and not a man. Tall, lean, with hollow eyes that glow faintly white, his smile sharp and knowing.

Thomas.

The name hammers through me, though he hasn’t spoken yet. I know it’s him.

Griffin groans behind me, curling over, his body shaking as though emptied. His breath is ragged, his strength drained, but his gaze stays locked on the figure.

“Thomas,” he rasps.

The apparition inclines his head, that awful smile widening. “Griffin. Bianka.” His voice is a whisper and a roar at once, filling the clearing and slithering under my skin. “Finally.”

“Get the fuck away from her,” Griffin growls, dragging me tighter against him despite the exhaustion in his arms.

But Thomas only laughs, low and smooth. “Don’t be foolish. I didn’t take her from you. I gave her to you.”

My stomach twists, bile burning the back of my throat. “What are you?” I whisper, my voice breaking.

His gaze slides to me, glowing eyes pinning me where I lay. “What I’ve always been. A shadow of love denied. A hunger unfulfilled.” His voice softens, almost gentle. “And I saw yours. Both of you. Wasted. Wounded. Starving for each other.”

My breath stutters.

“I knew you were meant to be,” he continues, his shape flickering like smoke. “But you needed a push. You needed me.”

“No,” I whisper, shaking my head, but the denial feels thin, weak. Because deep down, I know he’s right.

Without Thomas, Griffin would have stayed in the shadows forever. Watching me. Longing for me. Never daring to touch.

And I would have kept pretending I didn’t want him. Until I died of the emptiness. My chest heaves, shame clawing at me, but my body aches with the truth.

Thomas leans forward, his voice wrapping around us like silk. “Now you are bound. Flesh and soul. Nothing will break you apart.” His smile fades, his form thinning, unraveling like smoke in wind. “My work is done.”

And with that, the apparition dissolves, vanishing into the night, leaving only silence in his wake. Griffin’s breath shudders against my neck. His arm tightens around me, fierce, trembling.

“He was right,” he whispers, voice ragged, hoarse with possession and need. “You were always mine.”

And though I should scream, though I should fight ... I close my eyes and sink into his embrace. And I don’t deny the truth anymore.