Usually, tailing someone is boring as fuck, and I spend it wishing I was anywhere else and waiting for the time to pass, but not with Damon.
It’s not that he’s any more interesting than my previous marks—the opposite is actually true. Damon is a creature of habit, and his routine is as predictable as they come.
He goes to class, has two coffee shops on campus he frequents, and he likes to go for walks along the paths late at night. He sometimes goes to The Stacks, which is a bar and café in an old bookstore where students can borrow one of the many books lining the wall-to-wall shelves to either take home or read while they’re there.
Other than that, he spends most of his time in Romeo House, and the only person I’ve seen him hang out with is one of his frat brothers, a guy named West.
He’s as boring as they come, but for some reason, I enjoy watching him.
There’s something about the way he’ll stop suddenly, his shoulders tense as he looks around, like he can sense me watching him, that makes my blood pump faster in my veins. And I can’t deny the little thrill that ripples through me when he sweeps his gaze over where I’m hiding, like he knows I’m out there but can’t quite pinpoint where.
I like that he can sense me, and I really like how he’s not afraid.
Most of my marks have no clue that I’m following them, and that’s by design, but the few who have figured it out always reacted with fear. They changed their routines and walked unnaturally fast and took roundabout routes to go places. They stayed in their rooms and avoided going out, or they surrounded themselves with people, like that would somehow protect them from my gaze.
But not Damon.
He hasn’t changed a thing about his routine, and he doesn’t try to escape when he senses me. He’s curious and a bit confused, like he’s not sure if what he’s feeling is real, but he isn’t afraid.
It almost feels like he’s taunting me. No, taunting isn’t the right word.
It feels like he’s teasing me. Like he’s showing me he’s not afraid, and he’s almost daring me to do more than just watch him every time he senses me out there but doesn’t do anything to protect himself.
I know those thoughts are fucked up, and I don’t need a therapist to tell me that the things I’ve thought about while I’ve been in the shadows tailing him are beyond fucked up.
And that the things I fantasized about are most people’s nightmares.
Maybe it’s my brain’s way of passing the time while I’m on the job, but that’s when it feels like I’m not just following him, I’m pursuing him. Not just as stalker and stalkee, but like we’re predator and prey.
Something dark moves through my chest as Damon walks away from the bar and goes to stand against the wall, his gaze still fixed on the spot where I was standing only a moment ago.
That dark feeling shifts and changes until it almost feels like greed and possession, but there’s an edge of exhilaration under it that excites a deep, primal part of me. A part that I’ve kept under wraps for a reason.
This wasn’t the plan when I followed him here. I had my own invite, so getting into the party wasn’t a problem. And having masks as part of the dress code makes it even easier to keep an eye on him without being seen or recognized.
That’s why the plan was to keep watching him from afar.
So why the hell did I let him see me?
There’s a high chance he didn’t recognize me, and there’s no way to know for sure that he was actually looking at me and not just in my direction. But that doesn’t change the fact that I stayed where I was when he turned toward me, and I couldfeelhis gaze lock on me as he stood frozen in place.
The first rule of tailing someone is to stay out of sight. The second rule is to never reveal yourself or engage with your mark, and the last is to let things play out and not get involved in anything that’s happening if there’s no risk to you or the mission.
I just broke two of those rules, and I don’t feel even a hint of remorse.
All I feel is a strange sense of satisfaction.
Damon knows I’m watching him. He saw me, and he’s still not afraid.
The corners of my mouth curl up as another rush of that dark excitement moves through me. I should walk away, but fuck it. Some rules are made to be broken.
I watch as Damon’s head sweeps around like he’s searching the room for something, and I carefully slip into the shadows to stay out of sight until I want him to see me again.
He’s still looking around when a girl in a white miniskirt and a sheer white top with an opaque white panel at breast level comes up to him and puts her hand on his arm to get his attention. Her shirt is loose and flowing, and by how his head dips down for a few beats as she raises up on her tiptoes to say something in his ear, he probably just got an eyeful of her breasts.
The excitement that was flowing through me sours in an instant, and the jealousy that settles in my stomach as I watch Damon shoot back the rest of his drink, then take her hand and lead her into the throng of dancers is as unwelcome as it is unexpected.
Moving along the wall, I keep them in sight as they find a spot among the dancing couples and groups. More of that sour feeling gathers in my stomach as Damon and the girl start dancing.
