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"Did you think I didn't want you, Nova?" I whisper to the darkness, the question for both her and me. "That I was holding back because I didn't crave you down to my goddamn bones?"
Their glasses clink in a toast, and my jealousy flares hot and bright. It's a fire I can't extinguish, not when he's looking at her like she's the last drop of water in the desert.
"Stupid. So fucking stupid," I chide myself, the self-loathing twisting in my gut.
"Should've marked you, so everyone knew you were off-limits." My voice is a growl now, hungry and raw.
"Nova, you have no idea... no fucking clue what you do to me," I confess to the night, knowing it's the only witness to my unraveling. I'm quietly raving like a lunatic, but I don't care.
The night air nips at my skin, but the chill can't compete with the icy dread coiling in my stomach. Laughter spills from the restaurant, a siren call that beckons me closer, but I stay rooted to my shadowy alcove. In the dim light, Nova's blonde hair is a halo, her laughter a melody that once played just for me.
"Stop touching her," I hiss under my breath as her date whispers something that makes her giggle. The bastard brushes his hand against hers—it's too much. My hands ball into fists; knuckles white as bone.
"Easy, Blaze," I mutter to myself, struggling for air. "You're here to watch, not fuck things up." The mantra does little to quell the tempest inside me. It's like I'm two people—the protector and the predator—and they're tearing me apart.
"Could be innocent," I try reasoning, the words tasting like ash on my tongue. But every fiber of my being screams that it's a lie. He's encroaching on what's mine. My jaw clenches so tight I fear my teeth might splinter.
I need to move, to do something. My body vibrates with the urge to leap out of the darkness, grab him by the collar, and snarl, 'She's not yours to touch.'
"Fuck!" I curse, realizing my palm is bleeding from where my nails have dug in. The pain is grounding—a focal point amidst the chaos of my unraveling mind.
"Keep it together," I coach myself, voice barely audible, "for Nova." Because confronting this guy would rip open the facade I've meticulously built. I can't let her see the depths of my fixation. Not yet. She wouldn't understand—couldn't fathom the lengths I'd go to make her mine.
"God, you look beautiful," I whisper, an echo of the words he's probably feeding her, but mine are laced with genuine desperation. The sight of her smiling at another man shreds through me, leaving raw, exposed nerves.
"Should be me," I growl, my breath fogging the air. "I'd worship you, Nova. Make you feel things he couldn't even dream of."
My thoughts are a raging river, threatening to overflow its banks and wash away all semblance of control. They're dark, twisted fantasies where I claim her, bind her to me irrevocably. The images are so vivid, a part of me wonders if I'm losing my grip on reality.
"Can't... can't let him have you," I choke out, the admission a knife to my own heart. It's pathetic, this desire to confront, to challenge, to reclaim. But it's ingrained in my bones—a primal instinct that won't be denied.
"Remember why you're here," I remind myself, a lifeline thrown into the tumultuous sea of my psyche. "To keep her safe, to make sure she's okay." But the lie is bitter, and I know safety is just a convenient excuse for my obsession.
I watch, tormented, as he leans in, and her eyes sparkle with interest. "He doesn't deserve you," I whisper, a vow and a warning all rolled into one. "But I'll wait, Nova. I'll wait until you see that you belong with me. And then... then he won't stand a chance."
Hunched in the shadows, I'm nothing more than a specter—a ghostly guardian watching over her. My fingers drum against my thigh, a staccato rhythm syncing with the pounding of my heart. Each beat is a silent declaration: she will be safe; shemustbe safe.
"Another glass of wine?" Nova's date asks, his voice spilling out from the open window of the restaurant onto the street where I lurk. It's warm, inviting. Everything I amnotright now.
"Sure," Nova giggles, and the sound is like a siren's call, luring me closer to the edge.
"Fuck," I mutter under my breath, the word sharp as a blade. The tension coils within me, thick and suffocating like the night air. She sounds happy, carefree—emotions that should only belong to me. I adjust my cap lower over my eyes, ensuring the darkness swallows my face.
"Cheers, then," he says, and the clink of glasses feels like a hammer to my chest. She's toasting with him, sharing moments that should be ours. But tonight, I'm just a watcher, cloaked in the alley's embrace, my desires caged but pacing restlessly within.
Through the sliver of my vantage point, I see their hands almost touching across the table, and it's like a live wire jolts through me. "No touching," I growl softly, knowing full well they can't hear me, but needing to speak the words into existence nevertheless.
She leans forward, her laughter mingling with the ambient chatter of other diners, and I imagine wrapping my hands around the other guy's neck, squeezing until my knuckles turn white. My breath hitches, the fantasy too real, too tempting.
"Easy, Blaze," I chastise myself, the reminder a splash of cold water on my fevered skin. "You're here to keep an eye, not to make a scene." But even as I whisper the warning, my body trembles with the effort of restraint.
"Everything okay there, Nova?" he asks, and the concern in his voice makes me want to vomit. She's mine to worry about, not his.
"Couldn't be better," she replies, and the words are a dagger twisting in my gut. Does she mean it? Does she not feel the absence of what we have—or could have?
"Keep it together," I breathe, a mantra to anchor me. "She's safe. That's all that matters." Yet the lie tastes like ash in my mouth. It's not just about her safety—it's about her being with anyone butme.
The tension ratchets higher, a crescendo of obsession and desire as I stand sentinel, guarding the woman who doesn't know she's the queen of my twisted kingdom.
