16. Payton
SIXTEEN
PAYTON
Crack.
That wasn’t me…
Fuck.
He emerges from between two trees, his steps laid carefully, like a wolf seconds before it strikes; a tribute to his mask, no doubt. He’s a source of sin, prowling toward his retribution—to me. His hood is drawn up, the same mask as earlier covering the top half of his face, and he approaches slowly, calculated, almost ghostly.
My feet are heavy, breaths coming out in rapid, exhausted pants. My body is too drained to keep going, yet I want to. Knowing it’s only a matter of time until he catches me—again—and anticipating him doing so doesn’t overshadow my desire to continue this.
The egg in my pocket feels heavy at his advance, and I’m tempted to reveal I’ve found one; there’s a part of me that seeks his praise for a job well done within an impossibly dark forest.
“Found you,” he announces, his voice low and gravelly, making my thighs clench. “Now what? Gonna be good for me? Lie down and take it the way you’re meant to.”
I may have considered it, if not for the challenge ringing in his tone, like he wants me to keep fighting.
So I do.
I turn and bolt, hearing the exact second he takes off after me.
A quick peek over my shoulder throws hair into my face, and it’s with a rapid flurry I push the strands away to see him streaking after me. He’s fast, easily eating up the distance between us. I push my legs a bit harder, forcing strength into muscles long worn out and used more tonight than since ever.
My arms pump for speed, my heart pounding like it’s about to break free of my chest. Adrenaline is the only reason I’m still going, or else I’d be keeled over dead by now. How I’m going to have the energy to maintain what he’s about to do to me, I have no fucking idea.
Regardless, I run, hearing his approach. Feeling how he’s trailing me. Every sense is attuned to him. When I step, he takes two. For every three of my pants, he releases one measured exhale. Right down to my veins, my blood, it all centres on the man in the mask.
I chance another look and?—
“Shit!” He’s close. Only a couple strides away and?—
Branches and leaves twist together, tangling around my ankle and causing me to become unbalanced. If I believed in the supernatural, I’d say nature is on his side.
Rolling onto my back while ignoring the stinging pain in my hands and knees, I wait until he’s in sight, slowly approaching as though we’re both uncertain what his next move will be. His pace suggests I won’t run again, and his head ticks to the side, his smirk as wolfish as the mask covering the upper half of his face.
“Caught in a trap,” he muses, kicking the ground by my feet. “Isn’t that a shame?”
“Is it?” I find myself asking, unsure of what I’m supposed to do now; his golden egg left so few instructions. Not knowing what’s about to happen sends a flood of heat between my legs.
“For you.” White teeth flash in the darkness, the final thing I see before he reaches for me. I crab walk backwards, more of a messy scramble than anything. He makes a humming noise, then reaches again.
“Try harder,” I taunt within a moment of brazenness before spinning around, one shoe jamming into the dirt and hoisting me upright. With a lunge, I take off running, wondering what’s gotten into me.
This is fun .
He isn’t holding back this time. His curse flies after me, his steps coming up fast before two arms capture my body, one around my waist and the other around my neck. He hauls me to a standstill, trapping me against his chest.
His chuckle is a warm, trickled taunt down the side of my neck. “You put up a good fight, but you’ve lost. You won’t be getting away again.”
My stomach lurches in both pleasure and anticipation, but my hands come up to scratch at his, my legs kicking backwards, playfully fighting him even when I want him to win, to dominate me, to take me.
He doesn’t flinch, his grip on my neck tightening until I’m rendered still by the threat of strangulation. His teeth scrape over my pulse, making me shiver. “Fight me. That’s good. Prey shouldn’t concede.”
Contradicting his words, he releases me abruptly and spins me around. He’s a blur as he bends and hoists me over his shoulder, one arm tight around my waist. I have no idea where he’s taking me, but right now, I couldn’t care less.
His hand is heavy on my thigh, a threat on its own. My stomach continuously bounces against his shoulder. Up close, I examine exactly who I’ve been running from, and how impossibly big he is with muscles that make lifting me seem effortless. In this way, he reminds me of Jace again, and the image of him sitting across from me at the diner momentarily takes over.
When my stomach twists again, it’s with a sense of guilt, but it’s nudged aside when my hunter flips me right way up, pushing me against a tree. He reaches into his chest pocket, and that’s when I notice the back of his hand. What I see makes me blink a few times, convinced I’m imagining it.
A scar.
A scar in the exact place I know Jace’s to be.
There’s no fucking way…
My gaze darts to his, searching through the mask for eyes that stalked me through work this week. Sat on my couch and listened to my baggage. The same eyes I thought I recognized earlier. He’s not looking at me, though, so it’s difficult to make anything out.
His hand comes between us, a metal sliding on metal noise dropping my attention to the item he’s holding.
A knife.
A knife he strokes down the side of my face, sharpened edge away from my skin, tracing the line of my jaw. My breath hitches once he reaches my mouth.
His grin is a bit maniacal, and I study it, seeking Jace. Studying his jaw and cheek and stubble, looking for any hint of the man I’ve become reacquainted with.
The blade slides down my neck and over my clavicle, tracing the edge of my sweater. He hasn’t hurt me, nor do I think he will, so I’m laying my limited trust in the hands of a stranger, hoping my body won’t be found chopped up in a few hours.
He pauses his exploration to unzip my sweater, guiding it off my shoulders and letting it pool on the ground. The cool, nighttime breeze typical of late April brushes over my bare arms and stomach. I’m left with only a tight sports bra covering my chest.
He drags the knife down my stomach. Out of some unhealthy habit left over from Aaron’s cruel comments, I suck in.
With a noise of displeasure, he taps the knife handle against my stomach. “Don’t hide from me. Every part of you is beautiful, and I plan on tasting all of you.”
I inhale sharply, this time not trapping any air in my lungs as he withdraws the knife, his dark eyes glistening with mischief—a warning we’re about to play for real. He moves too quickly for me to catch another glimpse of his hand so I can know whether I’m insane and seeing things that aren’t there.
He crouches and cuts off my pants, which actually irritates me because they cost a lot. I want to say something, but his actions hold too much allure in them for me to end this. My heartbeat hasn’t slowed, despite the run having ended. Now, it’s being elevated by my hunter.
He removes my shoes, and socks as well. Once they’re discarded by my feet, he stands. Once more, I find myself checking his hand while asking myself the most important question: would I stop this regardless of whether he is Jace?
No. No, I wouldn’t.
His fingers pinch my chin to angle my face up, turning me this way and that as he inspects my features. “Prove you’ve read my note. What are your safe words?”
“Amber to slow down, and golden to stop.”
He nods once, a strange break after the intensity so far. It allows me to catch my breath, which I suspect will be needed for what’s to come.
“Remember those. I won’t hurt you anymore than you want to be, but if things go too far, use them. You’ve established I’m no serial killer. I’m also not a rapist. The words are there for a reason and will be respected.”
I can do nothing but nod; the man steals all sensibilities. It only lasts a moment, because with his final comment, something passes over the little bit of his face I can make out. His jaw rotates forwards and he steps back, inspecting me standing in nothing more than panties and my sports bra, skin pebbling beneath the chill.
“Beautiful,” he whispers reverently, his voice much too low to make out the similarities—if any—to Jace’s.
He flips the knife before placing the blade, sharp edge out, between his teeth, and I swear I’m about to die and go to the afterlife, right here and now. The image of his mouth wrapped around a blade, a mask concealing the parts of him I may or may not be familiar with, as he stands fully dressed is a vision of pure sin I long to lose myself in. I’m not religious by any means, but if my hunter were a religion on his own, I’d worship him until my death.
His fingers trail over my stomach before slipping beneath the edge of my sports bra, and I remain perfectly still as he yanks it above my head, attention zeroing in on my budded nipples. He makes a low noise in his throat, then abruptly flips me so my chest scrapes against the rough bark of the tree, pulling a gasp from my throat. I’m rendered useless, caught between fight and flight, if not a bit confused, because this is more than anything I ever fantasized.
“Can’t have you trying to escape, now can we?” Warm breath blows over my nape as he leans closer and tugs the bra into place, partway up my forearms. He releases me for a second before stabbing the knife through my bra, securing me to the tree. I’m now completely at his mercy.
Oh.
His hands trail down my arms and over my shoulders, pausing to cup my breasts before continuing to rest on my hips. He leans closer, the plastic of the mask dragging over my neck before his teeth imbed themselves in my shoulder. He chuckles darkly before his fingers find my panties, pushing them down my legs and discarding them to the side—a pink stain on the ground, evidence of our debauchery.
He steps back, allowing the cool air to pass between us, pebbling every inch now bare beneath the intensity of his gaze. While I may not be able to see him, I know he’s staring. His eyes sweep over my legs, ass, and my back.
It’s similar to the feeling I had when Jace pulled me between his legs the other night.
“You know what predators do when they catch their prey?”
My breath catches, and I shake my head, my tongue feeling too thick to form some comprehensible answer.
“They eat them.”