Page 6 of To Love a Monster (Oaths & Obsessions #1)

Lila

Just like the last few days, this morning’s been quiet. The kind of silence that feels more normal than suffocating. He hasn’t texted me since our encounter in the woods, if you can really even call it that. Maybe he really disappeared and I managed to actually scare him off.

I make another cup of coffee and ignore the way my fingers twitch near my phone. Breakfast goes untouched. And instead, I decide to carry on with the painting I’ve been working on to keep my mind occupied.

It’s a woman on her knees in the woods. Her dark hair cascading in messy waves down her bare back. Hands braced on the bark of a tree. And behind her, just barely visible behind a thick trunk, is a shadow.

He’s not defined but he’s there. Watching her. Silently waiting. For what, who fucking knows.

I step back when it’s done and hate how my body reacts to it. Hate the ache in my stomach. The heat behind my knees. Am I mad that he’s gone? I hate myself for even asking that. It’s fucked up that I’ve found myself annoyed by his absence.

The only thing more twisted than being hunted is fantasizing about what he’ll do when he finally catches you.

My phone rings just as I’m finishing my third cup of coffee. Tess’s name flashes on the screen and I answer with a forced cheer in my voice.

“Hey, Tee.”

“Hey, you,” she says, a grin in her voice. “Still alive? No more shadow creepers?”

I laugh. Too quickly. “None worth writing home about.”

“You sure?” she teases. “Because the last time you said that, I got seventeen texts about a mud stain you thought was a boot print from your forest boyfriend.”

“Okay, shut up.”

She laughs, then softens. “Seriously, though ... everything good? You’re sounding a little spun.”

“I’m fine,” I lie, curling my fingers around the mug. “How are your parents?”

“Still refusing to retire. I swear they’re going to die at their desks.”

I hum. “Well, you know what they say, do what you love and you never have to work a day in your life. Some people find joy in the grind.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she says, tapping keys in the background, “Anyway, I’m calling because I have an update for you. That listing just outside town finally sold.”

My pulse stutters. “Wait, what?”

“You remember the one I told you about? Off Pineridge? Near the south end of the woods?”

I nod slowly. “Yeah ... no one’s lived in that place forever.”

“Exactly. It was put on the market a year ago. Then outta nowhere there was a cash sale. No contact info. Just a PO box and a basic-ass name on the paperwork. Could be your tall, dark and handsome.”

“Hmm, maybe...” I say, but already I know it’s him. It’s got to be. He’s definitely not just passing by, he’d need to sleep somewhere and there’s nothing around the town for miles.

“You okay there?” Tess asks.

“Of course. I’m just curious,” I reply quickly, a little too quickly perhaps.

There’s a soft laugh on the other end. “Curious enough to pay your forest boyfriend a visit?”

“Stop calling him that,” I mutter, but my tone’s more playful than angry.

“I’ll stop when you stop obsessing.” she teases. “If you’re going to hunt him down, I expect a full report. All the details. Height. Muscles. Eyes. Complete vibe check.”

I roll my eyes, but I’m already pulling on my boots. “You’re ridiculous. I’m not going to just rush over there and introduce myself to the weirdo who went out of his way to creep me out. And we don’t even know if it’s him. I’m just going to walk past. See if I can catch a glimpse.”

“Hmm mm. Sure. I’m serious, Lil. If he’s hot, I’m living vicariously.”

I laugh and promise to call her back later. Before the line goes dead I’m already halfway out the door. Time to take a closer look at where he’s been hiding out when he’s not actively stalking me.

****

The sun’s bleeding into gold as I near the house. I tell myself that it’s normal to be curious about who your neighbors are. I am totally not attempting to stalk my stalker. The house looks older than I remember. Gray siding, chipped paint, a porch that dips slightly on one end like it’s sighing under the weight of secrets. The curtains are drawn but I swear I saw something shift behind the fabric.

I step closer, my breath catching. And just for a second, I’m considering making my way up to the front door and demanding answers as to why the hell he followed me, how he got my number and how he knows my name. I almost do, but I’m stopped when I hear a voice from the other side of the fence.

“Hey, there.”

I jerk toward it, startled. A guy stands nearby with a travel mug in one hand, he’s tall and broad with a friendly smile. “Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, raising his hands. “Just visiting for a couple weeks, I’m staying in the place next door.”

“Sorry. I’m a bit jumpy lately. I’m Lila.” I shake my head and give him a weak smile.

He steps forward, offering his hand across the short gate. “Carl.”

We shake. His grip is warm, firm, not rushed. He feels grounded. Like a guy who doesn’t second-guess his decisions. Then, with a glance toward the gravel drive, he points. “You’re staying up there at Montgomery place?”

I nod, brushing my hair behind my ear. “Yeah. Just for a while. Art retreat.”

His eyes flick down, then back up, curious but not leering. “Nice. You’re a creative. I like that.”

“So the place I’m staying at is Jake’s,” he asks. “You knew him, right?”

The question throws me. “I’m sorry. Have we met?”

He shrugs, easy. “Nah. Jake’s my cousin. Distant, but I stayed here once, like, years ago. Before I came down, he gave me the rundown on who the locals are. I saw your car outside the house so figured you had to be the high school sweetheart he mentioned.”

I nod slowly. “Huh, he never mentioned a cousin Carl.”

Carl chuckles. “Probably didn’t leave much of an impression.” He says it with a grin. “Well,” he says, shifting the mug in his hand, “I’m still figuring out what’s what out here. Thought I’d grab coffee and take a walk along the lake, but if you’ve got time, maybe you could help me out.”

My brow lifts. “Help how?”

“You’re the closest thing to a local guide around here.” He gestures toward the porch. “Seems like this place is completely deserted. Would you like to come in for some coffee? You can tell me where not to get murdered by tourists or eaten by raccoons.”

I laugh, despite myself. He’s charming in a way that doesn’t feel practiced. A little awkward. A little too nice. But nice is refreshing. And maybe it’ll be good for me to be around someone who doesn’t behave like they already own me. When I don’t answer right away, he grins and adds, “Promise I’m safe. Haven’t even unpacked the knives yet.”

“Sure,” I say, stepping forward and brushing my hair behind my ear. “Why not.”

Just then, my phone buzzes in my hoodie pocket.

Don’t you walk into that house, little lamb. I’m not very good at sharing. Especially not when it comes to you.

My heart stutters, caught somewhere between a warning and a thrill. The message is possessive. Brutal and feral. And it slams into me like a hand at my throat. Little lamb. That’s his nickname for me, huh? Looks like he hasn’t disappeared after all. He’s still watching. Still wanting. Still mine, in the most fucked-up way imaginable.

And maybe ... maybe that’s exactly what I came here to find out. A twisted part of me feels relieved because he’s still there. Still circling. And that thrill? It blooms like a bruise, making me ache for more.

So I do something reckless. Something stupid and possibly dangerous. I type back two words.

Prove it.

My thumb hits SEND and the thread vanishes. Gone. Like it never existed and I shove the phone back into my pocket.

“Everything okay?” Carl asks.

“Yeah,” I lie again. “Nothing to worry about.”

He nods. “Then come on in. I’ve got sugar and lies about how good the coffee is.”

The house smells like cinnamon and freshly brewed coffee. Banana bread cools on the counter, edges burnt, the middle a little sunken like it’s cooked unevenly. The kind of baking that says I tried. Carl pours coffee into mismatched mugs and cuts the banana bread, offering me the better slice.

“I was just trying to figure out where everything is,” he says, sliding the plate across the counter. “This place is kind of a maze. Charming, but ... Jake didn’t exactly label things.”

I pause, the mug warm in my hands. “You said earlier you only stayed here once?”

He nods, casual. Too casual. “Yeah, when we were teenagers. I don’t remember it being this big, though.”

I hum as I take a sip of the coffee and something tugs at me. I’m not sure what, though.

“So,” he continues, “what’s good around here? You mentioned you’re painting. You just doing the retreat thing to get the creative juices flowing, or are you working on a specific project?”

“Little of both,” I say. “But I’m mostly just trying to clear my head. It’s peaceful here.”

He nods. “Is there still that bar with the neon cowboy out front?”

I smile. “Yep. Haven’t been in forever, though.”

“I should check it out.” Carl lifts his mug, breathes the coffee in. “Do you come out here often?”

The question is gentle, like he’s just trying to make casual conversation.

I drink slowly before answering. “No,” I lie. “Not anymore. As a kid we’d come out a lot, but we’ve not been in years.”

“Well, it’s definitely a great place if you’re looking for total isolation. I didn’t expect it to be so cold, though! Didn’t pack half of what I need.” He leans back against the counter, arms crossed, gaze easy. “Gonna have to make a run into town. Anything good there I shouldn’t miss?”

“Not unless you’re into bargain antiques and bad diners,” I say.

“Hey, I like a good dive. It’s authentic. Maybe we could check out the bar together sometime. You know, Jake and I got caught sneaking into that bar once. His dad was pissed. Made us sleep in the shed.”

The way he says it is casual. Offhand. But it hits wrong and my spine straightens. Slowly, I tilt my head. “Jake’s dad died when he was eight.”

Carl freezes. Just for a second. Then he laughs it off, too quick. “Shit—no, no. I meant my dad. He’s the one who caught us. Sorry, that was a total slip of the tongue.”

My smile doesn’t move. “Right. Easy mistake.” But in my chest, something starts clawing again. Carl clears his throat, lifting his coffee. “Anyway, sorry if that came off weird. My memory’s trash sometimes.”

I force a tight smile. “All good. Everyone forgets stuff.”

Suddenly another message comes through and before I even pick it up I know who it’s from.

If he touches what’s mine, I’ll make his death slow enough to echo. Don’t test how far I’ll go when it comes to you, little lamb.

The screen goes dark before I can reply. My stomach knots and I stand quickly.

“Are you all right?” Carl asks.

“Yeah. Sorry, I just remembered I have something to do.”

He looks disappointed. “Oh. Okay, then. Well... I hope I see you around?”

I don’t answer. I nod and bolt. As I exit the door, I hear another buzz.

That’s my good girl.

Irritation and something hotter coil inside me. Without thinking, I storm across the gravel and bang on his front door. There’s no answer but I know he’s in there. I hear him a moment later, a low, throaty chuckle behind the wall. I want to shout something that’ll pull him out, ask him what his problem is. But when I look around, I see Carl is watching me from his kitchen window, eyebrows raised. So, instead I turn and leave.

****

Surveillance Log: L.M

S ubject : Lila Montgomery

Location : Matteo’s Cabin

She knows where I am now. She saw the curtains shift and she still turned away, still let another man steal her attention.

He spoke to her like she was available. Like she was a girl who could be won over with fucking coffee and banana bread.

And she smiled at him. She smiled . Laughed like I wasn’t right here, watching.

That soft lean forward, like she was curious.

Curious is dangerous. Curious makes men like Carl disappear even if they’re not a security threat.

And the way she tucked her hair back. It made my hands clench hard enough to leave blood under my nails.

She’s playing a game she doesn’t understand.

But she will. I just need to teach her the rules.

She told him her name. Let him invite her inside. I watched her hesitate. Watched her almost make the right choice. So I reminded her.

Don’t you walk into that house, little lamb. I’m not very good at sharing. Especially not when it comes to you.

I watched her read the message. Watched the way her breath caught. The little flicker in her eyes, the fight between resistance and instinct. She stood frozen and my pulse climbed slow and steady like it was counting down to something inevitable.

She smiled like she liked it. Like my fury was a gift she wanted to unwrap. And then she texted back. Said something so unexpected, but oh so welcome.

Prove it.

Then she walked through the door.

She knew I was watching. She knew that it’d piss me off if she went yet she did it anyway. She tested me, dared me, and it’s made my blood burn.

I wanted to drag her back out by her hair.

Bend her over his porch railing. Make her apologize for even letting another man breathe the same air as her.

For smiling. For laughing. I wanted to silence her with my palm over her mouth, or better yet, stretch her lips wide around my cock until the only sound she could make was a deep moan.

If I didn’t have orders, I’d have broken that door down, shoved her up against the wall right there in his fucking kitchen and made sure the only name she remembers is mine.

I wanted to make her cry out, let her beg with her ass bent over the counter.

My hand in her hair, my belt around her neck.

That pretty mouth whimpering things she’d pretend to be ashamed of later.

But I don’t move. Because I made an oath, because I’m under orders. Because Matteo wants intel, not chaos. Not yet, at least.

But I’m not a patient man. And she’s fucking testing me with every laugh, every challenge.

So I’ve simply been watching. And waiting.

She walked into his house like she was in control. But with those two simple words, she just handed me permission to show her who really is.

— N