Married to my Stalker

Distance and Devotion

Nova didn’t want to admit that leaving the house felt… good. Not just the fresh air or the faint warmth of sunlight through the tinted glass, but the distance. The space between her and the curated silence. The space between her and the wildflowers that were starting to multiply. The space between her and the note she now kept hidden in her journal drawer.

You’re not her.

Now, she was in the backseat of a black town car with seats too soft and windows too dark, driving past streets she used to know. Damian sat beside her, quiet and composed, legs crossed and eyes forward, like he wasn’t the reason her entire life had turned upside down. Damian hadn’t touched her since the kitchen. He hadn’t tried, but the space between them still pulsed with gravity. The kind that pulled tides, and people, and secrets loose from their anchors. Like a storm circling.

“I thought we’d have lunch before seeing your mother,” Damian said.

Nova blinked. “Wait, lunch? Like… in public?”

Damian turned to her, a flicker of amusement softening the hard lines of his face. “You’re married to me. You’re not a prisoner, you can eat in daylight.”

Nova raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know vampires came with black cards and emotional damage.”

Damian smiled faintly. “I also have excellent taste in wine.”

The restaurant was sleek and minimal, tucked inside a boutique hotel she could never afford. The hostess didn’t ask for a reservation. Damian’s name was enough. Nova wore a cream-colored wrap dress that had been waiting for her on the bed that morning. It hugged her curves like it had been chosen with reverence; it probably had. People stared, but Damian didn’t. Not once during the meal did Damian look away from Nova, not when the waitress leaned in too far, not when a table of tourists whispered behind their menus. “You’re staring,” Nova said, sipping her wine.

“You’re glowing,” Damian replied, tone low.

She rolled her eyes. “That’s the soup.”

“No,” Damian said, eyes never leaving her. “That’s you. Slowly starting to trust me.”

Nova didn’t correct him. Perhaps she didn’t know how. After lunch, the town car slipped into a quiet residential street. Her mother’s house appeared at the end, looking smaller than she remembered—familiar, but tired. The porch had the same paint chips. The wind chimes still hung crooked. “I haven’t told her anything,” Nova said.

“You don’t have to,” Damian replied.

“She’ll ask questions,” Nova said.

“Then lie,” Damian said smoothly. “Or tell her you married a man who pays his debts.”

Nova turned her head toward him. “And what do you think I owe you now?”

He didn’t smile this time. “Everything,” he said. “But I’m willing to earn it.”

The visit was brief, Nova went inside alone. Her mother sat in her favorite chair, her eyes brighter than Nova remembered, her cheeks fuller, her voice stronger. They hugged. They spoke. Laughed, even. Nova handed her an envelope Damian had prepared, filled with cleared medical bills, prepaid utilities, and a mortgage statement, paid through the following year. Her mother cried, and Nova didn’t. Not until she got back into the car and shut the door behind her. Nova wiped her cheeks quickly. Damian didn’t say a word. He just reached across the seat, took her hand, and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “I can do more,” he said.

Nova didn’t pull away. “I don’t want you to buy everything,” she murmured. “I want you to understand what it costs… to mean something to someone.”

His thumb brushed the inside of her wrist. “Then teach me.”

The car was quiet, then it slowed. Nova frowne. Shee glanced out the tinted window. They weren’t turning onto the main road. They were gliding into a shaded cul-de-sac lined with old trees and tall shadows. Damian reached forward and pressed a button. The privacy partition slid shut with a soft click. “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice thinner than she meant.

Damian turned toward her, eyes dark, jaw tense, like he was fighting restraint and starting to lose. “You’re soft when you cry,” he said. “But you’re even more beautiful when you fight it.” Her thighs pressed together. “I’ve been patient,” Damian continued. “I haven’t touched you since the kitchen. I gave you space. I let you breathe.”

Nova nodded slowly. “You’ve been good.”

Damian exhaled. “But you keep looking at me like you want me to be bad again.”

Nova did want him again, but she didn’t say it. She didn’t have to. Damian reached for her, slowly, giving her time to stop him. But when she didn’t move, he gently pulled her onto his lap. Nova straddled him, her knees sliding to either side of his thighs. The dress rode up, the hem slipping higher, exposing her thighs. Damian’s hands slid along the backs of her legs, fingers grazing her skin like he’d missed it. She gasped softly when he pulled her closer, until she felt him, hard and waiting beneath her.

“This okay?” Damian asked, voice rough.

Nova nodded. That was all he needed. His mouth was on her throat in seconds, kissing and biting a path down to her collarbone. His breath was warm against her skin. Nova tilted her head, lips parted, as he whispered something in Romanian that sounded like a prayer. His hands roamed under the dress, slow and reverent. Over her waist. Around her back. Then down. One hand cupped the back of her thigh; the other grazed her inner knee and moved upward.

Nova trembled when his fingers reached the thin lace of her panties. When he pressed against her, she arched into his palm, a soft whimper escaping her lips. “You’re soaked,” he murmured, breath ragged. “Is that all for me?”

She whimpered again when his fingers dipped beneath the lace, finding her with ease. He moved with maddening control, slow, deep strokes that made her hips roll into his touch. His mouth returned to her neck. His other hand gripped her thigh tightly as she lost her rhythm. “You feel that?” Damian growled against her skin. “You belong to me like this. No one else touches you here. No one else knows.”

Her fingers clutched his shoulders as she rocked against him, chasing the edge. He pressed his lips to her ear, voice rough and low. “Let go for me,” Damian said. “Right here. Right now.” Nova’s moan was muffled against his mouth as he kissed her through it, holding her tight while her body shuddered in his lap. Nova didn’t realize she was shaking until he wrapped his arms around her and pulled the robe across her legs again. They didn’t speak. Nova lay curled against him in the backseat, her cheek resting on his chest. His fingers traced soft, hypnotic circles on her bare knee like nothing had changed. But it had, everything had.

That night, Nova stood at her bedroom window with the lights off. The house didn’t feel so big anymore. The silence no longer felt like a warning. It felt like a breath, a pause between words. Nova turned toward the bed. The wildflowers were still there, still just one vase. But she was sure there were more stems than there had been yesterday. This time, Nova didn’t feel afraid. She felt chosen.

“I didn’t know what scared me more, how fast I was falling… or how much of me already wanted to be caught.”