Watching

Dante’s POV

I watch with a smirk as Luna storms into the bathroom, the door slamming hard enough to rattle the cheap frame. A photo on the wall falls, shattering into a mess of glass shards on the floor. Justin doesn’t even flinch, barely acknowledging the chaos as he sprawls lazily on the chair.

“Think you’re in deep shit now,” I chuckle, not bothering to hide the satisfaction in my voice. Every fight they have just inches me closer to her. The more she pulls away from him, the easier it’ll be to pull her into my arms where she belongs.

Justin grins, unfazed, and walks over to the fridge, pulling out two beers. He tosses one to me, settling back down as though he hadn’t just pissed off the woman he’s supposed to care about. “It’s all good, man. Trust me, tonight’s gonna be even more fun,” he says with a cocky grin.

His words send a cold wave of jealousy through me. Fun? Fun? The thought of him touching her again makes my blood boil. My grip tightens around the bottle, and I have to fight the urge to smash it against the wall and use the broken shards to slice his neck. He doesn’t deserve her. Not her body, not her smile, not a single breath she takes. He’s careless, oblivious to how fucking precious she is.

I take a long swig, forcing the bitterness down my throat instead of the snarl that’s threatening to rip from my mouth. “You should pick that up,” I say, nodding towards the glass scattered across the floor.

Justin glances at it and shrugs. “She will,” he says dismissively, like she’s some kind of maid. My fists clench beneath the table. He doesn’t care if she steps out of the bathroom and cuts her feet open. He doesn’t care about anything that happens to her.

I care.

“Anyway, you’re sticking around this weekend, right? Party’s gonna be wild,” Justin says, stretching his arms behind his head as though his whole life is one big joke.

“Yeah, I’ll be here,” I reply, my voice low, the dark edge of obsession slipping in. Of course, I’ll be here. I wouldn’t miss any chance to watch her, to be near her, to get closer to making her mine. It’s only a matter of time.

The bathroom door opens, and I hear a soft hiss. My head snaps up, and there she is—Luna, standing barefoot on the cold tile, wincing as she steps right into the shards of broken glass. My heart clenches, the impulse to rush to her, to scoop her into my arms and carry her away from the danger, nearly overtaking me. But I hold back. Not now. Not with Justin here.

“Stupid fucking glass,” she mutters under her breath, carefully lifting her foot to check for cuts. My eyes follow the motion, my breath catching at the sight of her bare leg. My imagination runs wild, picturing her wrapping that leg around me, her body pressed so close to mine...

I must have dazed out because the next thing I know, Justin kicks me in the leg.

“Hey, you good? I asked if you can swing by tomorrow. You’re not working, so can you check if anyone comes by?” he asks, completely oblivious to the raging thoughts in my head.

“Yeah, sure thing,” I say, barely paying attention to him. More time near her. More chances to watch. I glance toward Luna, who’s now sitting at the table, eating yogurt and flipping through one of her books.

My heart races when I see her lift the spoon to her lips. She has no idea. None at all. I watch her savor the yogurt, a small smile on her face as she reads, probably getting lost in some filthy fantasy. God, I love her books. Justin always rolls his eyes at them, but I’ve been sneaking in here long enough to read them all.

I’ve seen her read the dirtiest scenes, her cheeks flushed, her body reacting to the words on the page. Does Justin even know what kind of fantasies she has? How deep and twisted they are? Probably not. He’s too fucking blind.

She places the empty yogurt pot down, and my smile widens. Some people might find what I did disgusting. But knowing that she just ate it, completely unaware, makes my cock twitch. The thought of her carrying a part of me inside her, even in such a twisted way, sends a jolt of pleasure through me. I’ll have to watch her tonight.

Yes, I’ll watch her sleep, just like I’ve done before.

I sit for hours, quietly watching her, waiting for the night to come. Every little moan, every soft breath she takes in her sleep is like music to me. But that’s not enough anymore. I don’t just want to watch her from across the room. I need more. I need to be closer. To touch her, to feel her warmth beneath my hands as she sleeps.

Tomorrow night. Tomorrow I’ll make my move.

Justin keeps talking, oblivious to the fact that I’m not really listening. My attention is on Luna, every inch of her body, the way she moves, the way she drapes her legs across his lap, practically begging for attention. I wait, wondering if he’ll finally notice, if he’ll touch her the way she wants.

But no. He barely reacts. How the fuck can he be this useless?

If she were mine, I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off her. I’d trace every inch of her skin, memorize every curve, every detail of her body. Instead, she’s stuck with this idiot who doesn’t even realize how lucky he is.

Hours pass, and I can see her frustration building. Every subtle movement, every shift in her body is her silently screaming for his attention, and he’s too dumb to notice. If she were mine, I wouldn’t let her go a second without feeling how much I crave her. I would be buried so deep in her, even with him in the fucking room.

Finally, she huffs in frustration, slamming her book down. She’s practically throwing herself at him, but it’s only now that he bothers to notice.

Justin turns to her, and she leans forward, whispering something in his ear. Now he finally touches her, his hand sliding along her leg. Too little, too fucking late.

“Getting late. We’re gonna sleep. You should head out,” Justin says, standing up as though he hasn’t just wasted the entire night ignoring her.

I grit my teeth, biting back the urge to argue. I’m supposed to leave? After watching this pathetic display? But I nod, forcing myself to play it cool. “Yeah, I’ll catch you tomorrow,” I mutter, heading out the door.

But I don’t leave.

I get in my car and park just a little down the street, watching the lights flicker in her apartment. Is he fucking her? The thought makes my blood boil. I don’t usually spy this late if he's there, but tonight I can’t resist. The way she was acting all night, so desperate for his attention... I need to know what’s happening.

I walk to the window, peering through the blinds. It’s been only a few minutes, but the sight that greets me fills me with rage.

He’s already fucking her. Already? There’s no build-up, no passion. Just quick, meaningless movements. I lean closer, my eyes locked on her face. Justin can’t see it, but I can. I see the slow roll of her eyes, the disappointment etched into every feature as he pulls back using her for his own release.

He’s useless. Fucking useless. He’s not giving her what she needs, and I can see it in the way her body tenses, how her face tightens with frustration. Is this why she’s always so quick to play with herself after he leaves? To chase the pleasure he’s too incompetent to give her?

She looks towards me, and I move away from the window, my heart pounding with fury and anticipation. This has to end. Tomorrow, I’ll make my move. Tomorrow, she’ll be in my arms. Maybe not conscious, maybe not willing. But she’ll be mine.

Soon, Little Deer. Soon.