Chapter 10
THE HUNTER
The miles stretch out before me, an asphalt river shimmering in the midday heat. My fingers tap an idle rhythm against the steering wheel, my body humming with a restless energy that borders on anticipation. It's not the most efficient mode of transportation, but it's only round one and I'm enjoying doing things the old fashioned way.
More rewarding that way, if nothing else.
She's out there, my little fawn. I can feel her, a prickling awareness at the edge of my senses, a tug in my gut that pulls me ever closer to her trail.
I have to admit, I'm impressed. When I first laid eyes on Aria Moreau, I saw nothing more than a frightened little fawn, all wide eyes and trembling limbs. But she's surprised me at every turn, displaying a resourcefulness and cunning that I didn't expect from a sheltered librarian.
Perhaps that fox mask wasn't too far off.
Buying a car off a random stranger, driving for hours on end, disguising herself to try to throw me off—it's almost enough to make me believe she has a chance in this twisted game of ours.
Almost.
A slow smile curves my lips as I remember the look on her face when she read my message, the dawning horror in those pretty green eyes as she realized I was watching her every move. She thinks I'm tracking her through the phone, that I have eyes and ears everywhere just waiting to report back to me.
But the truth is, I don't need any fancy toys or loyal minions to find her. I have something much more powerful at my disposal—an instinct for the hunt that borders on preternatural.
It's a gift, or so I've been told. A sixth sense that allows me to track my prey across any distance, through any obstacle. Some might call it a curse, this unrelenting drive to chase and capture and claim.
But to me, it's the sweetest rush in the world.
As late as I started, even my father had to admit that I took to the hunt like a duck to water. I'd already killed people by the time he got his hands on me, so the instincts were there. You might even say they're buried in my DNA.
And one day, those instincts, that dark gift he passed down from father to son, will be the thing that ends him.
And right now, that rush is telling me that my little fawn is close. So close I can almost taste her fear on the wind, feel the pounding of her heart like a second pulse in my veins.
I press down on the accelerator, the engine of my sleek black car roaring to life as I speed down the highway. The scenery blurs past in a smear of green and gray, the miles melting away beneath my tires.
I don't know exactly where she's going, but I have a pretty good idea. The maps and supplies I found scattered across the backseat of her recently acquired truck while she was in the gas station paint a clear picture of her desperation, her scrambling attempts to put as much distance between us as possible. I let her have another head start, just because I wasn't ready to claim her yet. Just to drag it out a little longer.
But what she doesn't realize is that there's nowhere she can go that I won't find her. No hiding place so remote or clever that I won't sniff her out like the predator I am.
I take the next exit, my heart beating faster as I navigate the winding roads leading to the rest stop. It's a small, unremarkable place, the kind of anonymous waypoint that dots the landscape like freckles. The perfect spot for a weary traveler to rest her head... or for a hunter to corner his prey.
I pull into the parking lot, my eyes scanning the handful of cars scattered across the cracked asphalt. And there, tucked away in the far corner, is a familiar rust-bucket of a truck, its faded blue paint gleaming dully in the sunlight.
Bingo.
I ease my car into a spot a few spaces down, killing the engine as I sit back and wait. My senses are on high alert, every nerve ending singing with anticipation as I watch the truck for any sign of movement.
Minutes tick by, the silence broken only by the distant hum of traffic on the highway. And then, just as I'm starting to wonder if I've miscalculated, I see a glimpse of chestnut hair coming out of the main shop at the rest stop.
Even from this distance, I can tell it's her. The way she moves, all coiled tension and wary grace, is as unique to her as a fingerprint. She's shed the cap and leather jacket from earlier, her wavy hair spilling down her back in a tangled waves.
She looks exhausted, her shoulders slumped and her steps heavy as she makes her way toward the restroom building. But there's a determined set to her jaw, a steely glint in her eye that tells me she's far from broken.
Not yet, anyway.
I wait until she disappears inside before I make my move, unfolding myself from the car with predatory grace. I take my time crossing the parking lot, my steps measured and unhurried as I savor the delicious tension building in my gut.
Oh, my sweet little fawn. If you only knew what awaits you on the other side of that door. The games we'll play, the secrets we'll unravel... the screams I'll wring from that pretty throat before I'm through.
I pause outside the restroom, listening intently for any sound within. But there's only silence, a thick, heavy quiet that presses down on me like a physical weight.
Slowly, carefully, I ease the door open, slipping inside the dimly lit space beyond. The air is thick with the sour stench of urine and industrial cleaner, the fluorescent lights overhead flickering and buzzing like angry wasps.
I move deeper into the room, my eyes scanning the row of battered stall doors for any sign of her.
And then I see it. The door on the far side of the restroom, slightly ajar. A slow smile spreads across my face as I realize what she's done. Clever girl, slipping out the back while I was busy playing cat and mouse out front.
But not clever enough.
I push through the door, blinking against the sudden brightness of the afternoon sun. The woods stretch out before me, a sea of green and brown that seems to go on forever. And there, just at the edge of the tree line, is a flash of golden brown hair disappearing into the shadows.
My heart kicks into overdrive, adrenaline surging through my veins like liquid fire. This is what I live for, this primal thrill of the chase, the heady rush of knowing my prey is just within reach.
I take off after her, my long legs eating up the ground as I plunge into the forest. The undergrowth is thick and tangled, branches snagging at my clothes and scraping against my skin. But I barely feel it, my focus narrowed to a single point—the glimpses of sun dappled hair and pale skin flitting through the trees ahead of me.
She's fast, I'll give her that. But I'm faster, my body honed by years of training. I can hear her labored breathing, the crunch of leaves and twigs beneath her feet as she tries to outpace me.
But it's only a matter of time before I catch her. We both know it, deep down in the marrow of our bones. This is the inevitable conclusion to our little game, the moment when predator finally claims prey.
I put on a burst of speed, my muscles burning with the effort. And then, just as she breaks through into a small clearing, I'm on her. I tackle her to the ground, my body slamming into hers with bruising force.
We tumble to the forest floor in a tangle of limbs, her small body struggling beneath mine. But I'm too strong, too determined to let her slip away again. I pin her wrists above her head, my fingers digging into her soft skin as I straddle her hips.
She stares up at me, chest heaving, those green eyes wide and wild with fear. But there's something else there too, a flicker of defiance that sends a thrill racing down my spine.
"Got you," I murmur, my voice low and rough with victory and exertion.
She twists beneath me, trying to buck me off. But I just tighten my grip, leaning down until our faces are mere inches apart.
"Did you really think you could outrun me?" I breathe, my lips brushing against the shell of her ear. "Did you really think you could escape the wolf?"
She shudders beneath me, a choked sob escaping her throat. "Please," she whispers, her voice breaking on the word. "Please don't hurt me."
I chuckle darkly, nuzzling against the soft skin of her neck. She smells like sweat and fear and something uniquely her, a scent that makes my mouth water and my pulse race.
"Oh, my sweet little fawn," I murmur, trailing my lips along the column of her throat. "I'm not going to hurt you yet. Where would be the fun in that? We're just getting started."
I stare down at her, my body thrumming with a primal hunger that threatens to consume me. She's so soft beneath me, so delicate and breakable. It would be so easy to take what I want, to claim her right here on the forest floor like the beast I am.
My hand trails down her side, fingers skimming over the curve of her body. She inhales sharply, her body going rigid beneath my touch. I can feel the heat of her through the thin fabric of her shirt, the pounding of her heart like a frightened rabbit's.
Part of me wants to rip her clothes away, to bury myself inside her until she screams my name. To mark her, inside and out, until there's no doubt in either of our minds who she belongs to.
But something holds me back, a flicker of hesitation that feels foreign and unsettling. I tell myself it's not because I'm not cut out for this, that the thrill of the hunt hasn't faded. I've killed before, felt the hot spray of blood on my face and reveled in the rush of power that comes with snuffing out a life.
But this... this is different. When I finally take her, I want her to enjoy it. I want to see the moment when fear turns to pleasure, when she surrenders herself to me completely.
I want to break her, yes. But not here. Not like this.
Not yet.
Slowly, reluctantly, I ease my weight off her, rolling to my feet in one fluid motion. She scrambles away from me, her eyes wide and wary as she watches me from the other side of the clearing.
"The first hunt is over, little fawn," I say, my voice deceptively calm. "And you lost."
She swallows hard, her fingers curling into the dirt beneath her. "What... what happens now?" she asks, her voice trembling.
I let my gaze travel over her, taking in the dirt smudged on her cheek, the leaves tangled in her hair. She looks wild, untamed. Like a creature of the forest herself.
"Now?" I say, a slow smile spreading across my face. "Now the real game begins."
I take a step toward her, and she flinches back, scrambling to her feet. But I don't pursue her, not yet. Instead, I lean against a nearby tree, crossing my arms over my chest as I watch her.
"You know, you really should make this more enjoyable for me next time," I drawl, my tone taunting. "Put up a bit more of a fight. Make me work for it."
Her brow furrows in confusion, her lips parting as if to speak. But I don't give her the chance. I push off the tree, turning my back on her as I start to walk away.
"Until next time, little fawn," I call over my shoulder, my voice echoing through the trees.
I can feel her eyes on me as I stride away, boring into my back like twin brands. But I don't look back, even as every instinct in my body screams at me to turn around, to finish what I started.
No, I'll let her go for now. Let her lick her wounds and gather her strength. Because the next time I catch her—and I will catch her—I won't be holding back.
The thought sends a shiver of anticipation down my spine, my blood heating with the promise of the hunt to come. She may have escaped me this time, but she won't be so lucky again.
I am the Hunter, after all.
And she is my prey.
Mine to chase and capture and claim as I see fit.
I can hardly wait.