His Perfect Prey (Fraternitas #1)

Chapter 1

1

J aeger

Billionaire Island is an oasis outside of the city. The richest of the rich own vacation homes here. And it’s home to the Lodge, a private club set on several hundred acres of wooded land. The elite come here to party, gamble at the private tables, and partake in the bacchanal delights offered in the BDSM dungeon on the lower floors.

I stand at the bar with a drink in my hand, studying its amber depths. At six feet three and over two hundred pounds of pure muscle, I don’t fit in with the glitzy and glamorous set. Unlike the trust fund bros and businessmen with soft hands, I wasn’t born into privilege. I was born on the street. I’ve spent my life surviving on the knife’s edge of danger. This soft life doesn’t suit me. I came to the Lodge to clear my head, but not even the burn of expensive whiskey was enough to sate the monster prowling inside me.

The beast wants to feed.

I need to get some pussy. It’s been far too long, and the Lodge is full of beautiful women. The waitresses are in short skirts, and the club submissives are in barely-there-bodysuits. Not to mention the socialites and heiresses here in designer dresses, seeking a walk and ride on the wild side. I can feel them looking at me. I could crook my finger and snare any of them. But that doesn’t interest me at all.

I prefer a brutal chase. I need the thrill of the hunt to sate the beast.

I’m looking around for the pretty redhead I saw a few days ago at Inferno, the bar our brotherhood runs in the city. Sometimes, the girls who work at Inferno also pick up shifts here at the Lodge.

I haven’t been able to get her out of my mind—curly red hair, tight curves, and a few freckles showing through her heavy makeup. She’s just my type. My dream girl brought to life. When I first spotted her, I thought I was asleep. She was so stunning, it was like the gods created her from my fantasies.

But she’s not here.

I down my whiskey and rap my finger against the bar for another.

“Happy birthday, Jaeger.” Sebastian St. James emerges from the shadows. He invited me here, so I should’ve been expecting him. Only years of training allow me to hide the fact that he’s snuck up on me.

“St. James.” I turn to face him. St. James is in his usual gray suit. From silk tie to silver cufflinks, every tailored inch of him looks the part of a successful, well-bred businessman. Only those of us who know him well know he’s dangerous. “How did you know it was my birthday?”

St. James doesn’t answer. He sips his drink, calm under my intense scrutiny. He’s my blood brother, but I still tread carefully around him.

When you live on the outskirts of society the way I have, you catalog threats. All my life, I’ve been surrounded by dangerous men. I’ve just made myself a bigger threat than the rest. But my instincts recognize that St. James is on another level. He’s as subtle as a snake in the grass and just as deadly, and all the men he’s destroyed never saw it coming.

“Right. You know everything.” This isn’t the day my twin brother and I were actually born. It’s a day we chose for ourselves. This is the day we were freed from hell and reborn.

But St. James probably knows that, too.

“I have a gift for you,” he says.

I snort. “Do you think I just turned seven? Birthday gifts are for kids.” Not that I know from experience. My upbringing didn’t afford any childish celebrations.

“I think you’ll like this gift.” He snaps his fingers, and a cute blonde dressed as a cigar girl sashays over. St. James selects two cigars from her tray and heads out of the Lodge and onto the massive wooden deck overlooking the thick forest. I follow him. He’s head of Fraternitas, second in command only to the man called the Devil. I follow him because I’ve sworn to do so.

But I’m also intrigued.

St. James takes our cigars across the deck to the far railing. I lean on it and look out at the acres of wilderness. You’d never know a city of nine million was a few miles away. The only sounds are the rustling leaves, the hum of insects, and the hoots and howls of night creatures. It’s peaceful and wild.

It soothes the beast.

A match flares, and St. James hands me my cigar.

Now that he’s piqued my curiosity, the bastard’s going to make me beg. “So what is it? My gift?”

“I spoke to Damien.” He means the Devil. Head of Fraternitas. “He and I agreed you deserve a reward for the sacrifices you’ve made.”

He’s referring to the last six months that I spent on a mission for Fraternitas. The one that left my hands stained in so much blood I’ll never be able to scrub them clean. “Everything I do, I do for the brotherhood. To uphold my vow.”

“We know that. You’ve proven your loyalty many times. And thus, you’ve earned a reward.” He flicks ash over the side of the rail.

Somewhere beneath us, an alarm sounds. I tense as a door under the deck bangs open.

A figure races out onto the lawn. A woman, bare-legged, wearing a white dress that glows in the moonlight.

My whole body is on high alert, my muscles tightening, ready to give chase.

My twin and I have excellent night vision. It’s one of the reasons we’re so deadly in the dark. My gift allows me to pick out the details of the runner. She’s got a wealth of curly hair tumbling down her back, and her pale legs flash as she pelts across the lawn, away from the Lodge.

I track her until she disappears into the tree line, every instinct in me telling me to run after her.

St. James smokes his cigar, watching me with amusement. I’m gripping the railing hard enough to get splinters.

“Who is she?” I growl.

“A waitress. She typically works at Inferno, but I assigned her other duties tonight.” Godsdamn St. James. He noticed me watching the redhead and lured both of us here. He has something planned.

“What duties?”

“She’s yours for the night. If you can catch her.” His gray eyes glitter in the moonlight. St. James likes edge play. That’s why he owns multiple BDSM clubs, including the Lodge.

And if he knows everything, he knows there’s nothing I like better than a wild, primal hunt.

“She signed a contract and everything and is being well paid to run from you in the woods. She gets a bonus if she eludes you past midnight. More if she makes it until dawn.” He gives me a satisfied look, the closest thing he has to a smile. “I doubt it’ll take you that long to hunt her down.”

“You mean…” The beast is roaring in my chest. My chest is swelling, my lungs preparing to pump like bellows and get me ready to run after her. My prey.

“Welcome to the Hunt. You have free rein of the property until dawn. And when you catch her, she’s all yours.” He pulls out a black mask—a simple hood with eye holes and a white skull painted on the front. It’s what I wear for ritual executions. He hands it to me and nods to the stairs to the left of us that lead down to the lawn. “I told her you’d give her a ten-minute head start.”

Elodie

I dash between the trees, racing with my arms outstretched to push through the branches, but briars scratch at my bare limbs and face.

A full moon shines brightly overhead, helping me see my way through this thicket, but I know it also illuminates the dress I’m wearing. The white is the opposite of camouflage. I might as well be spotlit on a stage.

The jerk who hired me made me put on this white dress. Luckily, it’s the end of summer, and the nights aren’t that cold. But I’m barefoot, too. It’s obvious I’m supposed to fulfill some specific fantasy. This is the Hunt, and I’m the poor, helpless prey. Half-naked, dressed like a virgin, and ready for sacrifice.

Whatever. As long as I get paid.

Waitressing isn’t enough to get me and my sister out of the mess her ex created. I need the thousand dollars Mr. St. James offered me to take this gig. He also dangled a bonus if I avoid getting caught before midnight. He wants me incentivized to give the patron a real hunt.

If I last until midnight, I get ten thousand dollars. But if I make it until morning, he’ll give me a hundred thousand in unmarked bills.

That’s the goal. A thousand dollars will help our problems. Ten thousand will fix them.

One hundred thousand will change our lives. I have to keep from getting caught.

I strip off the white dress as I run. I rip it into pieces and hang one strip on a low branch, where it hovers in the air, suspended like a ghost.

I weave through the towering oaks, leaving scraps of my dress on the branches of the smaller elms and holly trees. Red herrings to throw the hunter off my scent.

But now I’m naked. And my pale skin is a beacon in the night.

The woods end, and I race through the long grasses of the lawn. My feet slide into mud, and I flail to keep from falling. The black glimmer in front of me must be a small pond.

Behind me, back at the Lodge, there’s a blast of a horn. The long, low note sends chills up my arms. That must be the signal St. James told me about. He promised me that I’d know when the hunter headed out after me.

I’m running out of time.

The Hunt has begun.

Jaeger

I jog down the stairs and head for the forest. The only sign of St. James is the burning end of his cigar. I don’t give a damn that he’s watching. My whole focus is on the sweet scent hovering in the air—the scent of my prey.

I strip off my shirt, and my skin prickles in the cool air. It’s summer, but the night is starting to have a bite to it.

I was born feral. From day one, my twin and I fought for survival like weeds growing through a crack on the sidewalk. It wasn’t until I said my vows and joined Fraternitas that I got to experience the world beyond the concrete jungle. The first time I came out here and heard the chorus of crickets and breathed the fresh air, I was home.

St. James and the Devil were visionaries, even when they were young. They figured out how to turn the petty crimes of a gang of street rats into a profitable gambling and smuggling enterprise and expanded into real estate before we were old enough to own land. Fraternitas owns almost all of Billionaire Island, including the vast acreage where we built the Lodge. There’s a privacy fence around our land, but I’d have to jog miles to reach it.

Plenty of wilderness for me to hunt.

I tug on the executioner’s hood. Now, I look like what I am: a killer. A beast bred to lurk in the wilderness on the outskirts of society. I’m lucky Fratenitas has a need for my monstrous urges; otherwise, I’d have been put down like a dog.

This is why I’ve never claimed a woman. No one should have to suffer the savagery of my possession.

But now, I have a sacrifice that’s been offered up on a platter, and I’ll be damned if I don’t take it.

“Run, run, Little Red,” I hum to myself, picking up my pace until I’m jogging through trees. “Here comes the Big, Bad Wolf.”

Elodie

The hunter is close, stalking through the woods. He’s wearing heavy boots and snapping twigs underfoot with little care for being stealthy. He even hums a little. He’s having a blast hunting a human for sport.

The closer he gets, the more noise he makes, but the sounds are drowned out by the pounding of my heart. Waitressing gave me strong legs, but I’m not a runner. That’s why I opted to hide.

I press myself against a thick tree trunk. I took the time to smear mud on my skin so I’m not glowing in the dark. It was disgusting, but I needed camouflage. I also piled leaves over the mud on my legs. Hopefully, it will keep the bugs away from me.

I fight to still my breathing and try to become one with the tree bark. But I can’t resist peeking to see if I can get a glimpse of the hunter.

That’s my first mistake. He steps into the moonlight, and my lungs seize. He’s massive, with tattoos etched on his burly arms and a hood painted with a skull covering his face. He’s the stuff of nightmares.

My stomach does a slow, lazy flip. This guy is way bigger than I thought he’d be. This is no ordinary client, and he’s not just a club patron who’s rich enough to pay for his fantasies.

He has to be one of them . One of the Fraternitas. The biggest, baddest gang in the city. They rule the criminal underworld. No one knows what it takes to join their ranks, but there are rumors. Blood rituals, executions. Fight clubs to weed out the weak. Only the strongest survive to join the brotherhood.

If I had known I was going to be hunted by a criminal monster, I wouldn’t have signed the contract. There’s no telling what depraved things he’ll do if he catches me.

Too late now. I’m being hunted, and something tells me I can’t just stand up and wave a white flag. This isn’t over until he catches me or I win.

I have to win.

Now that I’ve seen the threat, I can’t tear my eyes away. I study him for clues. For all his size, he lopes easily around the pond, his movements as fluid as a panther’s. Even as my insides cramp with fear, heat stirs deep in my core. His muscles are beautiful in the moonlight.

I’m doing my best not to move or breathe, but something alerts him. He stops and raises his head, a predator scenting his prey.

Then he swivels and faces the part of the woods I’m hiding in. It’s impossible, but I have the strangest sense he’s looking right at me.

Jaeger

The night is beautiful. The moon overhead might as well be a floodlight on the meadow. I skirt the pond, noting a few streaks of mud on the grass. My prey was here.

I can feel her watching me.

Even though I was born and bred in the city, I’ve honed my hunting skills. I know the little redhead is naked. She stripped off her shift and tore it into pieces, leaving them scattered around the forest like little white flags of surrender, shivering in the breeze.

I clench one in my fist. It still bears her warmth, her scent. She’s not far away. She opted to hide, not run.

I take my sweet time strolling to the next copse. Once I’m there, I make as much noise as I can. I push through the brush, careless of where I step, and kick leaves and branches out of my way.

If she won’t run, I’ll scare her until her primal instincts take over and she makes a mistake.

“I know you’re here, little red,” I call. “I can smell you. You’re not the first prey I’ve hunted.”

I pause, listening hard. I can’t be sure, but I sense someone breathing nearby. “Do you know what my enemies call me?” I turn in a slow circle, scanning the trees. “Nothing. They don’t know who I am at all, not even after I’ve slit their throats.” There’s a dark shape up in the canopy, but it looks like a squirrel’s nest. These oaks don’t have enough low branches for my prey to climb. “But my brothers call me the Wolf.” I keep walking, weaving through the trees. I see a drift of leaves that might be big enough to hide a person and head over and kick it, but it’s nothing but leaves.

There’s a bit of movement out of the corner of my eye. Instead of turning toward it, I continue on.

The night is young, and I want to take my time. I want this hunt to last.

Elodie

I clench my teeth so hard they ache. The hunter walks right past me, carrying on a one-sided conversation. He’s a bigger jerk than St. James. I add him to my mental People I Want to Kill list and try not to dwell on how sexy his deep voice is.

I must be a freak because my body reads my fear as excitement. Every boom of my heart makes my pussy throb. Wetness trickles down my leg.

This guy wants to fuck me like an animal on the cold, hard ground, and I’m turned on? I don’t understand myself.

His voice grows distant. I hold my breath until I no longer hear him crashing through the underbrush. The sounds recede until I’m left with the silence of the forest. But there’s not really silence. There are strange creaks and cracks and rustling sounds. I don’t want to think about what sort of nocturnal creatures are creeping around these woods. I can only hope they leave me alone.

There’s a whine near my ear, and I flinch. The mosquitoes have found me. And the temperature has fallen. I’d be warm enough if I were wearing clothes, but now I’m shivering.

Another whine and I slap my arm where the bug lands. The mud has dried and started flaking off. I roll my lips to keep in a hysterical giggle. If he does find me, he might think I’m too disgusting to touch.

I wait a few long moments. It has to be close to midnight, right? The window of my normal bedtime has passed, leaving me wide-eyed and wired.

And hungry. And freezing.

Maybe I can head back to the Lodge. Sneak in and hide somewhere warm. It’s breaking the rules, but if I produce myself at dawn, covered in mud and leaves, everyone will assume I did my part.

Slowly, carefully, I rise to my feet. I’m lost in the shadows of the huge tree. There’s no one around.

He’s gone.

I slip from shadow to shadow. I won’t take the shortcut across the meadow. I’ll keep to the woods.

I’ve gone ten steps when a deep voice at my back murmurs. “There you are.”