Chapter 6
THE FINAL HUNT
Luke
S he's so fucking beautiful when she comes apart for me, her body still trembling against the massive pumpkins as I pull out of her and tuck myself back into my pants.
The way she just gave into me completely, the way she begged for my cock with every desperate thrust back against me—it's everything I dreamed it would be and more.
My night monster. My obsession.
Mine .
I watch her try to catch her breath, her legs shaking so badly she can barely stand upright.
The fake blood from her vampire costume has smeared across her throat and chest, mixing with the sweat from our fucking, and her corset hangs open where I tore it apart to get at her tits.
She looks thoroughly claimed, thoroughly ruined, and the sight fills me with a possessive satisfaction so deep it's almost violent.
This is what she was made for. This is what she's always needed.
Someone who'll take her exactly as hard as she craves.
But even as I savor the sight of her completely undone, I can feel the familiar hunger rising in my chest again. It's not enough. It's never going to be enough until she's completely mine, until she understands that this isn't just about one night of fantasy fulfillment.
This is about forever.
This is about her never leaving me.
Every instinct I have is screaming at me to forget the rest of the plan, to just take her right here over and over until she's so broken and desperate she'll agree to anything I ask. But I can't. Not yet. The final act has to be perfect, has to happen exactly where I've planned it.
At the altar I built for her.
Where I'm going to make her mine forever.
I reach into my open shirt and check that the ring is still secure on its chain around my neck. Soon . So fucking soon I'll show her what this was really about.
What she's really going to become.
"You did so well, night monster," I murmur, reaching out to pull her bottom lip down with fingers that still smell like her pussy. "But we're not finished yet."
Her eyes flutter open, still glazed with the aftermath of her orgasm, and I can see the confusion and lingering arousal warring in her expression. "What do you mean? How could there possibly be more?"
I mean I'm going to hunt you one more time through my maze, drive you exactly where I want you, and then fuck you on the altar I built while I ? —
I mean you're never leaving this place as the same woman who entered it.
But I can't tell her that. Not yet. It’s not time.
"I mean the night isn't over," I say instead, stepping back and giving her space to pull her torn clothing back together. "We still have the grand finale."
She stares at me like I belong in an asylum, which maybe I do. Maybe loving someone this desperately, this completely, is a form of insanity.
If it is, I don't want to be cured.
"The grand finale?" Her voice is hoarse from screaming through her orgasms, and the sound makes my cock twitch again. "I can barely stand."
"Then you'd better rest quickly," I say, circling her slowly like the predator I've become. "Because in five minutes, I'm going to hunt you through this patch one last time. And when I catch you—not if, when —I'm going to do something very special."
I can see her trying to process what I'm telling her, her brilliant mind working even through the haze of exhaustion and arousal.
"Where?" she asks, looking around.
"You'll see," I grin beneath my mask, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her face. The gesture is tender, but my hard eyes never leave hers. "It's at the very heart of everything I've built. The center of my world."
I adjust my devil mask, watching as her pupils dilate at the sight. She's learned to associate this mask with pleasure now, with surrender , with the dark parts of herself she's finally allowing to surface.
Perfect .
"Five minutes to catch your breath, night monster," I say, my voice taking on that commanding edge that makes her shiver. "And then you run for me one last time."
And this time, when I catch you, you're never getting away.
I step back into the fog, letting it swallow me so she can't see where I've gone. But I'm watching her. I'm always watching her. Learning her patterns, memorizing every micro-expression, cataloging every tell that shows me what she's really thinking.
She's not going to run toward the forest this time.
She's going to run deeper into my field of pumpkins, because part of her wants to see what else I've built for her.
Part of her wants to be caught by me again.
Part of her is already mine, even if she doesn't consciously understand it yet.
I use the time to position myself strategically, calculating the angles and pathways that will drive her exactly where I need her to go.
The altar I've constructed is at the highest point of the patch, surrounded by the most elaborate jack-o'-lanterns and hidden until the last possible moment by carefully positioned fog machines.
I can’t wait for her to see it.
My heart is pounding harder than it has all night, anticipation and nerves I’m trying to push down. This is it. This is the moment when everything comes together.
She's going to be mine.
She has to be mine.
Because I've already decided she's never leaving me.
"Time's up," I call through the fog, my voice echoing off the surrounding forest and carrying through the thick mist. "Start running."
I hear her gasp, then the sound of her feet hitting the soft earth as she bolts deeper into the field. Exactly as I predicted. Exactly as I planned.
My brilliant girl.
Running straight into my trap.
I count to thirty, then begin my final pursuit. But this isn't like the other chases. This time I'm not just hunting her—I'm herding her, using my knowledge of the field’s layout to cut off every escape route except the one that leads to where I need her.
To the altar.
To our future.
The fog is thickest here, rolling in waves that make the jack-o'-lanterns appear and disappear like they’re from a fever dream. I can hear her ahead of me, stumbling through the vines, and every sound she makes sends electricity through my veins.
Soon.
So fucking soon.
I drive her left when she tries to go right, block her path when she attempts to double back, and use my superior knowledge of this place to eliminate every option except forward momentum.
Deeper into my web.
Closer to where this all ends.
Where this all begins.
She's getting tired—I can hear it in her breathing, in the way her footsteps are becoming less coordinated. Perfect. I want her exhausted when she reaches our final destination. I want her desperate and confused and completely dependent on me.
I want her to have no choice but to surrender to whatever I offer her.
The pathways are narrowing now, funneling her toward the single entrance that leads to the best part of it all. I can hear her starting to panic as she realizes she's being driven right where I want her.
It’s too late to turn back now, baby.
You can’t escape what we're going to become.
I emerge from the fog just close enough for her to see me, to know I'm right behind her, and hear her sob with exhaustion and terror and…
Anticipation .
She wants to see what's waiting for her at the end.
She wants to know what I've been building toward all night.
The entrance to the altar appears ahead of us through the fog—an archway made of intertwined pumpkin vines and late-autumn flowers, lit from within by dozens of candles and positioned so she'll have to stop and stare before she can enter.
Before she can see what I've prepared for her.
Before she can understand what this was always really about.
I hang back, letting her approach the entrance alone, watching as she comes to a complete stop at the threshold.
Perfect.
Absolutely fucking perfect.
She's right where I want her.
Exactly where she's always belonged.
Now all that's left is to show her what forever looks like.