Page 62 of X Marks the Stalker (The Hemlock Society #1)
“The chocolate-covered espresso beans should not be stored with the sweet confections. They’re clearly in the caffeinated emergency category, which belongs next to the salt-based stress relievers.”
“Did you seriously create a taxonomy for my stress eating?”
“I created an optimization framework based on observed consumption patterns during various emotional states.” His expression remains perfectly serious. “The sour-to-chocolate pipeline is severely underutilized in your current setup.”
I stare at him for a long moment. “I’m in love with a serial killer who color-codes my candy stash.”
“If it helps, I’m a very selective serial killer.”
“It helps a little.” I smooth my hands over his chest. “But mostly I just like that you can reach the top shelf where I hide the good chocolate.”
“Ah, so you’re only with me for my height and my ability to hack financial records?”
“And your hands,” I add solemnly. “Definitely your hands.”
“Not a very romantic declaration,” he teases.
I stand on tiptoe to brush my lips against his. “Fine. The truth? You make my coffee with three sugars without judging me. You cook actual meals while I’d live on snacks. You’ve never once complained about my 3 AM research binges or the wall of evidence that used to terrify my therapist.”
I smile against his lips. “And you’re the only man who’s ever made sure I came at least twice before you did. Every. Single. Time.” I wrap my arms around his neck. “You see all my broken, obsessive pieces, and instead of trying to fix them, you just hand me better tools.”
His expression softens, vulnerability flashing across features usually kept carefully controlled. “And you’re the only person who’s ever truly seen me and not looked away.”
We stand there for a moment, wrapped in each other and this strange, beautiful truth we’ve built together.
“You should go.”
Xander glances at his watch, then at his bag by the door.
The meeting starts in twenty minutes. His jaw tightens, eyes flicking from the door to me and back again.
A muscle twitches in his cheek as he weighs punctuality against desire.
Then his pupils dilate and his nostrils flare slightly—that predatory shift that still makes my heart race.
In one fluid motion, he lifts me off my feet, hands gripping beneath my thighs as he carries me backward until my spine meets the wall. His mouth finds mine with fierce urgency, swallowing my surprised gasp.
“I thought you had to go,” I manage when he moves to my neck, teeth grazing sensitive skin.
“I do.” His voice drops to that dangerous register that turns my insides liquid. “But Calloway can wait five minutes. ”
I wrap my legs around his waist, fingers tangling in his hair. “Only five?”
The challenge in my voice has his eyes darkening. “Okay, ten.”
Minutes later, as I’m catching my breath, back against the wall and his forehead pressed to mine, something shifts between us.
The urgent passion melts into something deeper, more vulnerable.
His thumb traces my cheekbone with a gentleness that contradicts everything the world thinks they know about him.
He sets me down, steadying me when my knees wobble. “You good?”
I laugh, dizzy and sated. “That’s one way to say goodbye before a meeting,” I say, still catching my breath.
“What are your plans for today?”
I gesture to my laptop and the stack of financial documents. “Writing up what I found yesterday. Maybe ordering Thai. Probably reorganizing my snack drawer after your unauthorized improvements.”
“Stay safe,” he whispers against my lips, the words carrying weight beyond their simplicity.
I press my palm against his chest, his heart racing beneath my fingers. “You too. Don’t let Calloway drag you into something reckless.”
“Says the woman who broke into Blackwell’s panic room.”
“That was different. I had you.”
His expression softens. “And now I have you.”
Four simple words, but they echo through me, settling somewhere deep and permanent. The journey that brought us here—from hunter and hunted to this strange, beautiful partnership—feels both impossible and inevitable.
He straightens his clothes, the mask of professional composure sliding back into place, except for the lingering tenderness in his eyes. “I’ll call you after the meeting.”
“I’ll be here.” The promise feels significant somehow, weighted with everything unsaid between us.
After he leaves, I open the kitchen drawer where I keep my emergency snacks, expecting to find chaos after Xander’s “optimization.” Instead, I find each category neatly labeled with tiny printed tags.
Sugar Rush (Crisis Level: Deadline – When You’re One Paragraph Away From Missing Your Editor’s Third Extension)
Sour Mood Lifters (Crisis Level: Frustration – Because Your Boyfriend Hacked Your Computer “For Security Reasons”)
Caffeinated Courage (Crisis Level: 3 AM Deep Dive Into Financial Records That May Get Someone Killed)
Salt & Crunch (Crisis Level: Stress-Eating While Your Boyfriend Is On a “Work Trip” With a Duffel Bag Full Of Zip Ties)
The Big Guns (Crisis Level: Catastrophic – Only to Be Consumed When Someone Has Tried to Murder You This Week)
And at the back, sits an assortment of ridiculously anatomically correct chocolate...cocks...alongside a handwritten note: Something to suck when you miss specific parts of me. The chocolate version won’t talk back or reorganize your snacks.
And last, in a small compartment I never noticed before, a single package of my favorite hard-to-find British chocolate with a handwritten note: For when you miss me. Which I hope is always.
Of course, he installed a secret compartment in my snack drawer. Of course, he’s created an entire classification system for my stress eating. And of course—of course—he found a way to make chocolate obscene.
Not quite the fairytale ending I imagined as a child, but somehow better. Because it’s real, it’s ours, and it comes with a serial killer who cares enough to optimize my emotional eating habits.
Honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
What happens when a gallery killer meets the woman who's been poisoning his wine? Spoiler alert: it's not what you'd expect. Calloway's about to discover that some hunters make the best prey...