The Perfect Stranger Novel Novels & Stories

He caught me standing around where my husband left me of course, he approached me with an award winning smile and spoke into my ear "Are you lost, my lady?" Oh, that voice, the hot breath that massaged my neck, oh how it made me shiver. I turned around to stare at his perfect face, I tried so hard to resist the temptation of kissing his red lips. who is this perfect stranger I wondered, my body was even more excited than I was, if it could jump out of my soul and went to him, it would have done it. He smiled and handed a glass of drink over to me " I didn't mean to captivate you my lady" he said ever so softly

His gaze flicked lower, and that was when he saw it—the dried blood around the stranger’s lips. The breath caught in Hayden’s throat. The murders. The bodies that had been turning up in Mount Haven, torn apart like animals had gotten to them. “Was it you?” Hayden’s voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper. “Are you the one who’s been killing people?” The stranger tilted his head, as if considering whether to answer. Then, he smiled wider. “Yes.” The world seemed to tilt. Hayden’s vision blurred for a second, his brain screaming at him to run. But his body—his stupid, frozen body—refused to move.

“Yeah, it was hard for her, but she told me. Anyway, for a while, April has been receiving threatening letters and other things from someone. She also discovered that one of the boys at the farm, Billy, was murdered several weeks ago.” Declan grimaces. “That’s fucked up.” I snicker. “Yeah, it is.” “Why hasn’t she told Micah?” he asks. “She’s adamant that he not get involved. But it’s bad, man. We’re pretty sure that the person who broke into and shot at, Sweet Perfect, is the same person who is after her.” Declan’s eyes widen with alarm. “Are you kidding me? And she won’t tell Micah?”

I sank into the worn velvet armchair tucked between the stacks, the one customers sometimes used to read a chapter before buying. I opened the book. The first story was about a librarian and a stranger who came in after hours. I laughed under my breath. Too on the nose. But I kept reading. The words were lush, explicit. The stranger’s hands on her thighs, the way he whispered commands against her ear, the slow build of tension until she begged. My pulse quickened. Heat pooled low in my belly. I glanced around—the shop was empty, windows dark, street noise muffled by snow. I was alone.

and then arrived somewhere I hadn't seen. The recognition of someone who has entered a room and understood, in the space between one breath and the next, that the stranger in it is not a stranger at all That the stranger is the key to something. That the stranger has been there all along, in the margins of a story that had never been fully told.

ELARA I wasn't dead. That was their first disappointment. I should have died in that burning factory or died on the operating table when my heart stopped twice. But hate is a powerful fuel, stronger than blood, stronger than bone. It kept me tethered to this world when every part of me wanted to let go. I don’t remember the car ride. I don’t remember the way the doctors cut the tattered, charred remains of my wedding dress off my body. My memory is a blur of white lights and agony. The only thing clear was the face of the stranger who saved me.

I manage to make it into the shower and turn the tap on before slumping to the floor. The waters so cold it makes my teeth clatter and my skin to break out in goosebumps. But the fire’s still burning. It burns my fingertips against my drenched clothes. It burns my touching thighs. It burns a path on my cheeks from the silent tears. It burns my lungs with every laboured breath. The perfect leather bound book scent hits me and sweet relief engulfs me the moment warm hands cup my cheeks. “Danika?” His voice is panicked. “What’s wrong?” He wipes the tears form my cheeks and I sob in relief.

I was ready to rest as well, too strung with nerves to do so lately, that is until I felt a knot form in my chest. [Bad scent.] I perked at Joy’s mention of something pungent in the air. She was right. Pulling from Justin’s arms, I was careful not to wake him, stalking slowly toward the door until a light knock rung out. I only poked my head around the side of the door, carefully watching the stranger on the other side of it. He had stark white hair and dead, gray eyes, but he was so young in appearance. When he grinned, I could see the spikes of his teeth in two places.

CHAPTER TWO BETTY'S POV It was as if a stranger had overtaken her body. She had convinced herself that she must endure his possession, she revelled in his touch, in every kiss, in every mind-stealing caress. She felt her senses widen, expanding like a frail spring blossom beneath the heat of a noonday sun, opening to welcome him….. But only him. With a helpless little moan, she caught his dark head in her hands, as if to keep him there and capture that exclusive pleasure forever.

The tension crackled between them like static electricity, swirling confusion wrapping around her like an unyielding fog. His age and demeanor were a stark contrast to the vivid portrayal she had conjured from Beverly's journal. The man standing before her was a far cry from the ruthless image she had envisioned. Surely, there had to be countless Choi families scattered across South Korea. During her relentless investigation, she had scoured every conceivable avenue, yet not a single photograph or even a whisper of his likeness had slipped through her grasp.