Tyrant Stalker (Tyrant Dynasty 2)

"God, I was so fucking stupid," she whispers to herself. "I thought I was going crazy. You said you didn't touch me. But you did, didn't you?"

Fuck. I just stare at her, hoping she won't come to the right conclusion.

But Dove's smarter than I give her credit for.

"The butt plug," she mutters. "The handbag. That was you, wasn't it?"

I need to accept I've lost this one and admit it. It's better than her realizing I'm the one who killed Robin.

"Yes," I tell her, keeping my eyes trained on her.

"Fuck," she whispers. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."

My thoughts exactly, little bird.

"You had me thinking I was going crazy." Her eyes find mine again, angry, hurt. "I thought I was imagining stuff... seeing things! You had me thinking I was crazy, that I'd have to see a doctor, get pills, get treatment! How could you do that to me?"

I can't say anything, because the only thing I can think about is the other thing I did, the one I now pray she won't ever find out about.

I can tell she's spiraling now, getting angrier and angrier as she spews curse words at me, pacing the room as she yells her frustrations. I understand, I really fucking do. But this doesn't change anything. It just means my plan will be set into motion sooner than I thought. Luckily, I got everything ready when I left for a couple hours earlier. My little bird's cage is waiting. It was only a matter of time, anyway. I never could fight the darkness that well.

"You have to leave," she realizes out loud. "I want you out of my house. I want you out of my life. Stop following me. Stop fucking stalking me. Stay away from me."

"Sure," I say, moving closer to her. She doesn't step away to avoid colliding with me, and it's the biggest mistake she's made all night. "Just do me one favor first, and then I'll leave you alone."

"What the fuck could you possibly want after everything you've done to me?" she hisses.

I reach into the pocket of my jacket that’s hanging over a chair.

“What are you doing?”

I give her a reassuring smile as I reveal the chloroform-soaked rag. "Smell this."

I press it firmly against her mouth. She doesn't fight me for long. Her body is helpless to the odor, and I hold my breath until she goes limp in my arms, then toss the soaked fabric away. I gather her in my arms, holding her close. I inhale her scent, filling my nostrils with it.

She'll hate me for a while after I do this, but needs must. Soon enough, Dove will realize this was for the best. That I'm only doing all this so we can finally be together, the way we're supposed to.

The way it was fucking meant to be.

***

"Good morning, Dove," I say gently as she wakes up with a groan. "Slept well?"

"Where the fuck am I?" Her voice is croaky, heavy with sleep. "What the fuck did you do?"

"I did what I had to," I tell her with a smile. "You were fighting this. You won't do that for long. I'll train you to accept me. To love me. To want me."

She turns her red-rimmed eyes to mine, not saying a word. Instead, she raises her hands to the metal collar around her neck, the one that's connected to an O-ring on the wall with a heavy, long chain.

"What did you fucking do?" she whispers. "Where am I, Parker?"

"It's Nox," I remind her gently. I don't like this new little habit of hers where she defies me by calling me a name I've long since forsaken. "Or preferably, Sir. Remember when you called me Sir? Remember what a good slut you were for me? That was only last night, Dove."

She takes a look around, only then realizing what I've done. "What is this place? Why are there mirrors everywhere?"

"So you can see yourself," I smile. "Look at your own reflection all day long."

"N-No," she whispers, clawing at the collar around her neck. "No, I don't want that."

"Unfortunately for you, Dove, it's not up for discussion." I stand up, approaching her from the shadows. "You're going to stay here until we fix a few nasty little habits of yours. Like that self-harming thing. It was cute for a while, but you're done doing that. If you hurt yourself, I'm making your stay in here a week longer. Each time I find a cut, a scab, anything I think you've done to yourself, I'm extending your time in the cell."

"N-No." Her eyes are horrified. "Don't do this, you can't, please don't do this to me."

"Of course I can," I reply easily. "I can do anything I fucking want to you. Nobody knows where you are. And before you start screaming... no one will hear you. So, I'd save my voice if I were you. You don't want your throat sore. I'll take care of that myself."