Novel & Cerita Books About Stalkers And Obsession

"She told me I do not care about Cameron because I'm always happy. Truth is I'm not... I have a stalker out there and my brother is in coma, who wouldn't be disturbed?" "It's okay, babe. She probably misses him and seeing us act mushy mushy makes her feel lonely I guess." He used his thumb to caress my back and I was enjoying it all. "What about your stalker, heard from him?" "Not really. Maybe he finally stopped." I wrapped my hands around his neck and rested my jaw on his shoulder. "Hmm." He hummed and rubbed my back. "I hope that is true. You know once someone gets obsessed with something they want it all the time and if they can't get it, they kill who or whatever is in their way. They c

Those horrific, disgusting bastards needed to pay for what they’d done. “All of the people affected were young…” Phillip began, with a timid expression on his face, “…and they had their whole lives ahead of them. All of these murders were done in the same city, and drugs are connected to each of these murders.” He broke off his sentence, shaking his fists angrily. “The very city in which the Russian Mafia own their corrupt enterprise, Indigo Limited. The very city where they conduct their operations!” “Boss, I understand,” I mumbled.

It was completely dark inside. Just when I kept my foot inside, I was grabbed quickly and pushed against the door. I felt a weight on top of my body. A hand clicked the knob beside me to lock it from inside. The intoxicating fragrance of lotus flower and heavy breaths were falling all over me. My wolf was almost losing its mind. I was still pressed against the door. I could feel Zen struggling with his wolf to keep it in his control. Suddenly he asked in a hoarse voice, "What do you think you're doing?"

“I would remember shoveling the driveway in freezing cold. Or lifting the airfryer—it’s heavy. Something’s wrong. Something’s really wrong.” “I said, let’s take it easy,” Sam says, low and measured. He grabs my hand and leads me into the library, steadying me. “Step by step. We write it down. Finish our homework. Baby steps.” “When did this stalking start?” Tessa asks as we settle at a corner table in the back, the library unusually quiet. Dust motes float in the sunlight slanting through tall windows. Sam slams his criminology textbook onto the table and flips open his laptop. “Let’s map it out. Timeline.”

I said to him and he sighed. "I know it sounds crazy but I can't shake all this off Liam, I just can't. I feel like I'm slowly losing my sanity and it feels like someone's trying to slowly drive me mad with misery. I'm under investigation for an attempted murder when I can't even hurt a darn fly. I lost my job, my reputation that I may never get back and now I've lost my cafe and another murder case is about to surround me cause they will investigation and since I already have a pending case, they'll add me to the list of possible suspects. Tell me now Liam, am I really not cursed?" I asked, heaving a sigh of frustration as it dawned on me that I am indeed a misfortune like mom always told m

Let them build up to an incinerating level, then fuck them -- it's so worth it. Stalkers ignore ROs. That's okay. Now you can legally trap them. They'll do whatever you want. Not because they are afraid of you. It is an RO for God's sake -- one night in jail, maybe. No, they'll do whatever sex act you request because that's why they are stalking you in the first place; the sensual/emotional connection.

Genuinely, innocently excited. Completely oblivious to the horror show that had just unfolded before my eyes. He had no idea. I wanted to grab him, shake him, and yell, 'That’s not just the new CEO, George! That’s my stalker. That’s the man who went to jail for me. That’s my fucking stepbrother.' But the boldness never came. I had kept way too many secrets away from my dear husband, and I didn't even know how to begin spilling this one.

“I like knowing you want to see me.” “You don’t understand,” he growled, pressing into me from behind while I fumbled to unlock my door. “This feeling is not normal. Or natural. I haven’t even known you a week. How can I become so attached so fast? That’s borderline stalker behavior, isn’t it?” “Well… Stalkers are unwanted, for one thing. And I’m actually a fan of whatever this is you’re experiencing, so… That suggestion’s off the table. Obsession, on the other hand—”

That's what I was, wasn't it? A stalker. Not a concerned father. Not someone trying to make amends. Just a man who couldn't take no for an answer, who kept pushing and violating and demanding until the object of his obsession had to get courts involved to make him stop.

“It makes the story messier for him. A crime of passion is one thing. A years-long, delusional fixation on the wife of the man you hate is another. It’s less about my ‘other one’ and more about *me* being the ‘other one.’ It could pull the focus back to us, to our dynamic. Why was he so obsessed with *me*?” She was right. Alvarez was a bloodhound, but he was also a bureaucrat with a case to close. A clean, simple narrative of revenge for a business wrong was tidy. This? A stalker’ obsession spanning years, with me as the unacknowledged object? That raised questions about our world, about what might attract such a fixation. It was a thread that could lead him places we couldn’t afford. “We ne