Free The Feeder by E.M Reders

Thayne demanded, coming to stand behind me, glancing over my shoulder.
    “This was full,” I explained. “The hamper, it was full.” And now all that remained were a few pairs of jeans and a jumper. I began pulling them out; searching through them, hoping that what I suspected wasn’t true, because surely no one would want to steal my dirty laundry, my dirty underwear.
    Slumping to the floor as reality hit, I gazed up at Thayne in panic. I needed to tell him, tell them about the feelings I had been getting over the past few weeks. “I think someone’s been watching me.”
    “Watching you?”  
    I Nodded. “For the past week or so I’ve had this strange feeling that somebody was watching me, even when I’ve been up here I’ve felt it. And now this,” indicating to the mess of clothes I had ripped out of the hamper and left on the floor.
    “Now what?” Trent asked moving to stand before me.
    Thayne crouched down and placed his arm around my shoulder protectively. “What’s missing?”
    “My underwear. My dirty underwear.”
     
    I hadn’t wanted to sleep in my apartment. Even though the guys had done a splendid job cleaning it up, there was no way that I could stay in there knowing that someone had gone through my stuff and taken my private things. Not that any of the guys would have let me after what I had revealed.
    Thayne had been furious. Going through all the rooms of my apartment from top to bottom looking for clues as to who had been there but found nothing. He’d said that the things that were taken – my underwear – had been things that would have been saturated with my scent, more so than any other item of clothing in there. That was disturbing on more than one level. I knew the reaction my scent could cause; I went through a dozen bottles of perfume and scented body lotions a month doing my best to cover it up.
    “It’s a stalker,” Chad had said as I had packed a bag up for the night. I was stopping downstairs in the cellar with Thayne again – refusing the guys offer to pay for a hotel for me – and I didn’t want to have to return up here anytime soon. “The question is what kind?”
    “Kind? Isn’t a stalker just, you know, a stalker?” I mean how many kinds could there be?
    Taking my hand, Thayne led me into the living area and sat me down beside him. “There are six different types of stalkers,” he explained. “Rejected. Resentful . Predatory. Intimacy. Incompetent. And finally Erotomania and Morbidly Infatuated.”
    “Wow, that’s a lot.”
    “Indeed. And from what I can tell, I’d go with the predatory option in this case.”
    “What does that mean exactly?”
    “That type of stalker usually watches a person as part of a plan to attack them, often sexually, and is motivated by the promise of sexual gratification and power over their victim. Taking personal items, ones like your used underwear that would be rich in your scent would be highly arousing for him.” Thayne’s description filled me with dread.
    “If it is a him,” Trent winked. “What? I'm just saying.”
    We spent the rest of the night cleaning up all the debris from the fight, the guys trying their best to distract me from the fact that some creep was no doubt following me and had stolen my dirty knickers. But it didn’t help stop the numerous questions running through my head faster than I could process them.
    How? Why? Who? Those three words seemed to be stuck on repeat.
    How? I never left the club, so how could anyone be watching me from within an empty building? Or what used to be an empty building. Thank the Lord Thayne was here now.
    Why? Why would someone be watching me? There were dozens of beautiful females here every night, ones that would throw themselves happily at any vampire’s feet.
    And finally, who? Because I had no idea who could be so twisted that they would kill a familiar and leave the evidence on my bed for me to find.
    Dean stopped by at one point, his eyes dark and