Chapter Three Kade #2
The wind shifts. Carries something to me.
Her perfume. Faint. Barely there. But unmistakable.
Jasmine and something darker. Richer. She wore it on purpose.
Left me a trail. The realization makes the hunger spike.
Sharp and sudden. She wants to be caught.
Planned this. Prepared for it. Made herself easier to find.
Or maybe not easier. Maybe more satisfying.
I follow the scent. Let it guide me deeper into the woods.
My eyes adjust to the darkness. Pick out shapes.
Textures. There. Broken twigs on the ground.
Snapped clean. Fresh. I crouch. Touch one with my fingertips.
Still dry inside. Recent. Stand. Keep moving.
A few feet ahead—a bush. Branches bent back.
Pushed through. She’s leaving signs. Breadcrumbs for the wolf.
Something about that makes my chest tighten.
She’s not just letting me hunt her. She’s making it good for me. Making it real.
I move deeper. Following her trail. The predator in me sharpens with each step. Rises. Unfolds. Takes up more space in my head. My thoughts shift. Darker. Hungrier. Want to hurt. Want to make her bleed. Want to feel bones break under my hands. Want to hear her scream— No.
I stop. Close my eyes. Force myself to breathe.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
No. Not that far. Not with her. Picture Amethyst. Not prey.
Her. Her face when she looks at me. No fear.
Just understanding. The way she whispers my name in the dark.
How she pulled me close this morning instead of pushing away.
Keep her there. In my mind. Anchor to it.
To her. The predator pushes back. Snarls.
Wants control. Wants to take over completely.
I wrestle it down. Fight it. Not gone. Never gone.
But controlled. Enough control to remember who I’m hunting.
Enough to not cross the line. I open my eyes.
Keep moving. Still hunting. Still predatory.
But present. Aware. Her scent is stronger now.
The perfume mixing with something else. Sweat.
Adrenaline. She’s running. Or was. I scan the ground.
The trees. There—another broken branch. And another.
She’s close. I can feel it. The air changes.
Thicker. Charged. My pulse spikes. Ahead of me—movement.
A rustle. Fabric against leaves. I freeze.
Listen. There. Breathing. Soft. Controlled. But there. Close now. So close.
The hunger roars. And I let it. Let it drive me forward.
One step.
Two.
Three.
Silent. Predatory. Inevitable. She’s right there.
Just ahead. And I’m coming for her. She sees me.
Our eyes meet through the darkness. One second.
Maybe less. Recognition. Understanding. Then she bolts.
Crashes through the underbrush. Fast. So fucking fast. Branches snap.
Leaves scatter. The sound of her running tears through the quiet.
Every instinct in me screams to chase. To run her down NOW.
Close the distance. Take her. End this. The predator roars. Demands it.
But I don’t. I slow down instead. Walk. Let her get distance.
The hunger snarls. Confused. Angry. But I know better.
This isn’t about speed. It’s about breaking her.
I can still hear her ahead. Running. Panicked breathing cutting through the trees.
Getting farther away. Good. Let her run.
Let her think she’s escaping. I keep walking.
Steady. Unhurried. One foot in front of the other.
The predator settles. Understands now. This is better.
This is perfect. Because it’s not just about catching her.
It’s about the moment when she thinks she’s won.
When she feels that surge of hope. Of victory.
When she believes she’s faster. Smarter. Safe. And then I take it away.
The thought makes the hunger sing. This is what I am.
Not just violence. Not just the kill. The hunt itself.
The psychology of it. The game. I track her by sound.
By the trail she leaves. She’s slowing down now.
I can tell. Her breathing still loud but not as frantic.
The crashing through underbrush less desperate.
She thinks she’s lost me. Thinks I gave up. Got tired. Couldn’t keep pace. Perfect.
I pick up my pace slightly. Still silent.
Close the distance without her knowing. The trees thin ahead.
Moonlight breaks through. And there she is.
Twenty feet ahead. Maybe less. She’s looking back over her shoulder.
Checking. Searching the darkness behind her.
Doesn’t see me in the shadows. I freeze.
Blend into the trees. Wait. She turns forward again.
Starts to slow even more. Her shoulders drop slightly.
Relief. She thinks she’s safe. Almost there now.
I move between the trees. Silent as death.
Fifteen feet.
Ten.
She’s barely jogging now. Catching her breath. Looking around. Orienting herself. Probably trying to figure out how far she got. How much time she has before I find her trail again. She doesn’t know I never lost it. Never even tried to.
Five feet.
Her guard is down completely. She stops. Bends forward. Hands on her knees. Breathing hard. Victorious.
Now.
I explode forward. Fast. Silent. Close the final distance in seconds. She hears me at the last moment. Starts to turn. Too late.
I catch her. My arms wrap around her from behind.
Got her. She fights immediately. No hesitation.
No surrender. Her elbow slams into my ribs.
Hard. Pain explodes through my side. She twists in my grip.
Strong. Trained. Breaks free. Stumbles back.
Turns to face me. We stare at each other.
Both breathing hard. Moonlight catches her eyes. Wild. Fierce. Not afraid. Never afraid.
The predator roars approval. This. This is what it wanted.
Not easy prey. A challenge. She lunges. Not away.
At me. Crashes into me full force. We grapple.
Hands grabbing. Bodies colliding. She’s strong.
So fucking strong. Knows exactly what she’s doing.
Pushes me back. Hard. Slips from my grip.
The hunger sings. Yes. Make me work for it.
Make the catch mean something. I go after her again.
Faster this time. Catch her around the waist. We crash together.
She fights. Twists. Strikes. I hold on. She breaks free again.
We separate. Circle each other. Then lunge back together.
Again. And again. Each time harder. More desperate.
Each time the hunger grows sharper. More satisfied.
This is what it needed. Not just the hunt. The fight. The struggle. The proof that catching her means something. I catch her again. Face to face this time. Our eyes lock. Both of us breathing hard. Covered in sweat. Her pupils blown wide. Mine probably the same.
I kiss her. Hard. Claiming. Desperate. Violent.
She kisses back just as hard. Teeth and tongue and need.
My hand moves down. Grabs her shirt. Pulls it over her head in one rough motion.
Tosses it aside. My hand goes to her breast. Grabs.
Squeezes. Keep kissing her. Consuming her.
Can’t get enough. She tries to pull away.
My other hand shoots to her throat. Wraps around it.
Not hard. Just holding. Possessive. Mine.
I pull her back to me. Kiss her again. Harder.
Brutal. My hand on her throat starts to squeeze.
Softly at first. Just pressure. Not cutting off oxygen.
Just feeling her there. Under my hand. Her pulse racing against my palm.
But then I squeeze tighter. The predator responding to her struggle. To the way she’s still fighting even now.
Tighter. Can feel every beat of her heart. Fast. So fast.
Tighter still. The feeling intoxicating.
Addictive. Her pulse under my fingers. Her breath catching.
My grip keeps increasing. Harder. The hunger purring.
Satisfied. This is what it wanted. Harder.
Her hands come up to my wrist. Not fighting.
Just there. Grounding. Trusting. Harder still.
Still kissing her. Consuming her. My hand squeezes tighter.
Her pulse hammering against my palm. Frantic.
Desperate. Can feel the blood rushing through her veins.
Hot. Fast. The pressure building under my fingers.
Tighter. The predator taking over. Drowning out everything else. Just the feeling of her pulse. Her heartbeat. Her life under my hand. Tighter. She grips my wrist harder. Then— “Kade."
Barely a whisper. Barely audible. Just my name. But it cuts through everything. I pull back. Look at her face. Really look. Her eyes wide. Lips parted. Trying to breathe. My hand— Fuck. I’m squeezing.
Like REALLY squeezing.
Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!
I let go. Jerk my hand back like she burned me. Step back. Away from her. Her throat. Red. Angry red marks where my fingers were. The shape of my hand branded into her skin.
She gasps. Deep. Desperate. Sucking in air. Her hand goes to her throat. Touches the marks. I did that. I fucking did that. Almost— Christ. I almost— I turn around. Can’t look at her. Can’t see those marks. Take a step. Then another. And another.