15. Jace
FIFTEEN
JACE
I fucking love the hunt.
Sometimes I run, sometimes I walk, but I always listen. For the slight noises. The chirp of scurrying animals. The wind, because it’s likely she’ll run away from it, not into it.
When I pass two hidden eggs, clearly undiscovered, I presume she’s gotten pretty far. The others are in the opposite direction, so if she keeps running this way, she’s skipping them all.
I continue on, alternating between jogging and walking, switching my pace and direction every so often. The farther I go, the less noise there is. The wind dies entirely. Animals hole up for the night, undisturbed by civilization. Darkness blankets every inch, the moon above no bigger than a sliver, limiting the glow.
And then, amidst the silence, I hear it.
A crack.
I stop, eyes roving. Once, twice, until the faintest motion in the distance catches my attention. A spot of black breaking away from the rest, her hair streaming in a wave, and those damn pink sneakers giving her away. She runs nearby, not bothering to check her surroundings.
She’s doubled back to trick me; if it wasn’t for the noise, she might have gotten away with it too.
“Sneaky little rabbit,” I murmur, following her on her new course. My steps pick up to a jog; fast enough she remains in view while also not catching up.
When I tire of this, I’ll move on, make her really hide when she’s aware I’m behind her and escape is the only option. This, right now, is a warm up. A game of hide and seek while she completes her egg hunt—which she’s utterly failing at.
She is going in the right direction for one of them, so maybe she’ll get lucky.
If she finds one, the deal is she makes her own request. And what Payton would demand is entirely a question for me, but one I anticipate getting taught the answer to.
“Yes!” she hisses from afar, her soft voice carrying over the wind. Presuming she found an egg, my mouth forms the closest thing I can to a smile. Seems I will be getting to learn her wishes after all.
It’s almost upsetting how her cheer announced her exact location. Stepping behind a crowd of bushes and trees I know the egg was hidden at the base of, I watch as she tucks the ceramic blue egg in her sweater’s pocket before taking off again without checking her surroundings.
Isn’t that a shame.
She runs left, so I follow, jogging faster. Now, she’s allowed to learn I’m nearby. I crave her fear, her tears, her little cries. I want her body to anticipate what’s about to happen, to crave me the same as I do her. To the point she’s needy, begging me to take her.
As I follow, I imagine everything I’ll do to her, and in every position. On her hands and knees, getting scratched by the broken twigs and leaves. After we desecrate its peace, it’ll take its boon from her skin. Against a tree, perhaps with a low-hanging branch I can tie her to. She’ll be the perfect little prey, just waiting for me to eat her up.
My cock twitches in my pants just thinking about her taste. She’ll be sweet, undoubtedly. She’ll quench a thirst I’ve had entirely too long; a craving unsated for eight fucking years. She’ll be bliss wrapped up in a pretty package, all fear and desire—a paramount combination.
She’ll fight me like the feral little rabbit I know her to be, because this morning teased the possibility. Fuck, I want her to fight me, bite me, and hit me, being as animalistic as I plan on being to her.
She slows to a walk, probably assuming I’m far away. She’s growing winded, going by her panting and rising shoulders.
I enter between two trees, pressing more weight into my steps until the ground announces my arrival. Payton freezes, her gaze jerking in my direction. Even in the dark, I spot the moment she stops breathing. When she realizes she’s been caught. So I speak, just loud enough that nature carries my voice to her.
“Hunt’s over, little rabbit, and you’re caught in my snare.”