My Husband, My Stalker

By: Jessa Kane

When I’m a few steps from the top, his voice, a mere scratch of sound, reaches me.

“Who’s there?”

I reach the top. There is a circular railing separating us, an opening in the center where the huge, rotating light is positioned. Evan hasn’t even turned around to see who is coming. His big hands are pressed to the glass, his head bowed forward.

“It’s me,” I manage.

It doesn’t occur to me until that moment, when he doesn’t turn around, that maybe I’ve lost him. I called him a psychopath. He poured his heart out to me and I walked away. Maybe I’ve broken him. Or maybe he’s hardened his heart—

Slowly, he pivots, his expression one of disbelief. “Jolie?”

A miserable sound leaves me at seeing him so haggard. His eyes are bloodshot, rimmed in dark circles. He hasn’t shaved in weeks, black whiskers occupying his cheeks, jaw, chin. He’s lost weight, his skin is sallow. He’s lost.

“I found your map.”

He grips the railing, knuckles white. “I can’t believe…you went looking for it.”

I go toward him with measured steps, traveling the curve of the lighthouse. “You found me the biggest light possible,” I murmur. “How could I stay away from a man who loves me that much? A man who loves me so much he’d change his name, his life, spend his days watching and protecting me? Listening to every word out of my mouth so he can please me?”

His eyes burn. “Some might say you should be terrified of a man like that.”

“They’re wrong,” I whisper.

Something inside of Evan snaps and he barrels toward me, catching me up in his arms, sinking down to his knees with me wrapped around him. With us wrapped around each other, inhaling the scents of one another’s skin, clawing to get closer. Closer.

“I’m dying without you,” he rasps into my neck.

“You don’t have to be without me anymore.”

“Jolie…I’ll never be normal when it comes to you. I’ll never be a husband who waves goodbye while you go shopping or out on some girls’ night. It just won’t fucking happen.”

“I know,” I whisper. “I want every part of you.”



That wild light comes on in his eyes. The one I’ve only seen glimpses of before. But this time it’s not fleeting. It doesn’t go away. And I know it’s going to be there permanently. My body responds with a swift surge of lust, my heart expanding, pounding, my existence narrowed down to the man who looks at me like I’m the ultimate treasure.

“Then bring me back to life, angel eyes.” He lays me down. “So I can spend a hundred years keeping you in my sights.”



Five years later

I glance in the rearview mirror and a thrill rides over my skin.

Where is he?

I’ve been out shopping and haven’t caught sight of my husband once, but I know he’s there. He’s never far. Always watching. But today he’s being extra cagey. His car is nowhere in sight. The narrow road to our lighthouse by the sea usually has very few cars, so I can spot him trailing me, but all that stretches behind me now is an empty dirt lane.

Rain begins to pitter patter on the windshield of my car, the smell of salty ocean air winding in through my cracked driver’s side window. I can hear the sound of my pulse in my ears, feel the answering call of the one between my legs.

I’m craving Evan, as always.

All those years ago, I think deep down I knew he was stalking me unaware. It was why I spent entire days in a turbulent state of arousal. Those eyes on me. Those thoughts being projected at me constantly. As they are now…though I can’t see him.

We moved to the house beside the lighthouse five years ago and life has been a dream awash in ocean mist ever since. Our relationship has changed in the sense that there is no longer only one obsessed party. There are two. I am a fiend for this man who watches me in the night, trails me with a knife strapped to his ankle, ready to protect, makes love to me like he’s conquering the world. Like he’ll only get one chance.

Evan retired from being a hit man, having made enough money to live very comfortably, operating the lighthouse at night. Illuminating the darkness on my behalf.

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