I stare at him for a long second, my heart pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat. I’m scared. Fuck, I’mterrified, but I’m also so very turned on that that’s scary in and of itself.
He releases his hold on me. “I’m a Dragonfly. You saw my tats. I know you know what that means. I was an enforcer, though I’m semi-retired now. When I saw your wish list, I had to know more. Oh, Noelle… I had to know everything. And once I did, I granted it. Do you need to hear me say it? I killed them, and I did it all for you.”
I close my eyes, shaking my head, trying not to hear his casual confession.
An enforcer, I can handle, especially if I can believe him when he says he’s retired. But a killer?
No, no, no.
“You’re not a serial killer,” I say at last, slowly opening my eyes again.
The words come out steadier than I feel. Like if I say them out loud, they might become true. Because the alternative? Is that I’m snowed-in with a killer and, no matter the way he’s looking at me at the moment, I could be his next victim.
Only Patrick… he doesn’t react to my assessment the way I expect him to. There’s no anger. No offense taken, either. Not even a denial, though how can he deny it after he’s the one who’s confessed to what he’s done?
Instead, he tilts his head slightly, studying me with that infuriating calm, like I’ve just said something that interests him instead of continuing to be terrified.
I mean, Iam. I’m scared shitless, but after what I’ve been through, so long as he’s killingforme instead ofkilling me, I can play his game while I’m trapped here.
“You plan,” I continue, my voice gaining a little more strength. “Serial killers don’t do that. They don’t slip into someone’s life for a whole damn year, doingwhat you did. They aren’t able to quote lines from a private journal.”
Because he did. And, shit, I don’t knowhow, but if this man was able to find out the details behind my wish list and, as judge and jury, decide to execute the five, then it’s probably child’s play for him to get into my journal and,fuck, follow me all the way to the chalet before convincing me that he rented it, too.
As though he knows exactly what I’m suspecting now, Patrick lifts his eyebrows in a way that I take as silent confirmation. I swallow, determined to get the rest of this out before he says another word.
“You didn’t kill a couple of guys randomly. You read my list. You watched. You waited.” My chest tightens as I think about his confession. “You hunted, but not because they were strangers. But because I typed their names into my computer.”
His mouth curves, just a little. It’s not another smile, not really, but something closer to an expression of approval. Like he’s proud I’ve figured out what sort of monster he is.
If I can believe that Patrick means it when he said he did this all for me, he’smymonster.
“You’re a stalker,” I finish.
Patrick exhales slowly, the grin taking on a darker edge. “Oh, Starling,” he says in a low voice, moving closer to the couch so that I understand that there’ll never be any escape from this man. “I can be both.”
The simplicity of how he accepts his brutal nature hits harder than denial ever could. He’s a killeranda stalker—and, for some reason, he’s fixated onme.
“You followed me,” I whisper, guessing. When he nods, I stifle my moan. “You went through my computer. You read my journal. You know things about me that no one else—” My voice cracks, and I hate myself for it. “You knew what I was thinking.”
“Yes,” he says immediately. “Just like I know what you’re thinking now. And it’s okay, Starling. You don’t have to be afraid of me. I spent a year taking down your targets so that you’d have the best Christmas ever. I won’t harm you. I will always protect you.”
Protect me?
Protectme?
I shake my head, fingers curled into fists on my lap. “None of this is about protection. I’m sorry, Patrick… but this isobsession.”
Patrick’s gaze softens. And yet, he doesn’t look any less crazy to me as he tells me, “Those are not opposites, Noelle.”
“You don’t get to decide that,” I repeat.
“I already did,” he replies, the same way as before. “The moment I realized no one else was going to keep you safe.”
“Bykillingpeople?”
“By removing threats to you.”
I wish I could believe that. And I know that, despitetwo years of therapy, I’m still as broken as I once was because I’m not really all that pissed that he killed for me. Like I thought before, I’m torn between being flattered and revolted by his obvious obsession with me, and the fact that flattered is gaining an edge… yup. I’m messed up, and if Patrick knows everything about me, he knows that, too.
