Chapter 10
The Predator
Iwas raised by monsters, built around the edges and perfectly aligned voids. I believed in reasons, reasons behind reasons. Nothing was fateful. Everything was pre-planned. I was taught to see life as a grand chessboard, where every move was calculated and every outcome was inevitable.
Emotions were mere equations and relationships strategic puzzles.
I was told I was a man of games, violence, and control—though that was slipping through my hands nowadays. Some might call me apathetic. Ruining and destroying everything in my path to get what I want without feeling an ounce of remorse or empathy.
And that’s how I preferred it. That’s how this world preferred me. A mystery. A secret. A storm.
There hadn’t been a thing I wanted and hadn’t got it. Though I get easily bored, but the joy, the power of getting things done my way, was beyond the feeling of blood rushing through my veins.
Except for the one in front of me, a pocket-sized girl, raising the vase, ready to slam it on my head.
Her eyes swirled and widened in fear—exactly the way I desired. I could see the panic settling in there. It was exhilarating knowing I could control her emotions.
I stood there, staring back at her. I watched suspicion bloom across her face. She wanted to test me. To see if I’d move. Flinch. Bleed like everyone else. Clever little bird.
It should’ve pleased me. Instead, it annoyed me. I could almost hear her mind working, searching for the safest way out. She was wasting her time. If she swung that vase, she’d get exactly one chance. She wouldn’t live long enough to regret it.
Girls like her always let their hearts interfere. Mine had died a long time ago.
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling like a complete psychopath. When I didn’t so much as flinch, she slowly lowered the vase, her eyes still wide with alarm.
She was so small I could toss her across the room without breaking a sweat. Snap those fragile little wings she tried so hard to hide and add them to my collection. That... would be entertaining.
It had been a while since anything was.
“Read it.”
I held the book out to her.
She froze for a beat before carefully setting the vase back on the table. Then those tiny hands reached for the book as if expecting me to bite.
Her nails were short. Neatly trimmed.
I almost smiled.
My little bird had no claws.
Her fingers trembled around the cover.
She swallowed, her pale throat working up and down the other motion until I almost saw the saliva travelling down through her transparent skin. “It’s....its’s...”
“Read it, Ptichka.” I stepped forward, crowding the little space she had created between us.
“O-okay.” Her lips dry, and I let my tongue dart and moist mine. Interesting. She could be my muse until I decide what to do with her next.
She opened the book, and I watched as she swallowed hard. And then raised her head to look at me. Then she again looked down, turned the pages, confused, baffled, and then realisation washed over her.
Yet she didn’t say anything, and I let my eyes rake down her body.
“Are you sure this is the one you want me to read?”
“Why? Is it not to your taste?”
As she struggled to find words, I noticed she was dressed differently today.
Overdressed. I wasn’t sure why, but fuck me if that shade of red didn’t make her look even more feminine.
The thin cardigan hugged her figure, drawing my attention in ways I didn’t appreciate.
Something primal stirred beneath my skin.
Then there were the jeans. Tight enough to make a man’s imagination his worst enemy.
I caught myself wondering how quickly she’d cry if I sank my teeth into those soft thighs.
I hated that thought because she was the one putting it there. She’d ignored me all week, and ignorance had always irritated me.
“I—”
She cleared her throat, every nervous movement betraying her. A cornered little bird, too frightened to fly and too sensible to attack. I almost smiled as her grip tightened around the book until her knuckles turned pale.
Then she swallowed.
Fuck.
My body chose the worst possible moment to betray me as heat rushed to my cock. Was it concerning? Maybe. It wasn’t the first concerning thing about me. Nor would it be the last.
I stretched out in the chair, loving the soft voice as she started reading, “…fingers digging into her hips… hard… enough… to leave bruises. She gasped,” She took a shaky breath, and I grinned. “Teeth scraping along her… throat, marking her, claiming her… owning her.”
Her breathing swallowed, eyes flickering up to mine like she wanted to kill me.
“He shoved his knee between her… legs, spreading her… open. Fisting her ha… hair…” She blinked rapidly, shifting on her feet. Her breath hitched. I’ve read that book before. It’s a shitty good for nothing honestly.
If a man needs to read a fucking book to know how to make a woman orgasm, he needed to put it down and let a real man show him how it’s done.
“Something wrong, Ptichka?”
“I think it’s getting late and I should get going.” Her voice was stable now, more courageous. The courage I’d been wanting crushing under my foot ever since she waved that gold brick.
I feigned innocence. “What about the book?”
She swallowed again. “I can’t read it.”
I grinned, loving all shades of red on her soft skin. “Then run me a bath.”
“What?” She stuttered, and oh, was that sound sweet to my ears?
“Prepare a bath for me, little bird. I want to take a bath.” I repeated, not realising I was using Russian until her brows knit together. She almost made me lose control. “Bath, Ptichka.”
She bit her lip, and usually, that would be considered a move women used to seduce a man.
On her, however? It ignited something primal within me.
I wanted to fucking bite her lips, draw them into my mouth, feast on them with my tongue, and tear the skin with my teeth.
The thought of her taste, the texture of her flesh soft under my bite, made my blood surge with a dark, insatiable hunger.
Something I hadn’t felt in a long time.
And it was the first time I had thought of kissing someone rather than fucking them.
The former always seemed pointless, anyway.
It shouldn’t be surprising if my dick reacted to her instead of my hands, which itched to wrap around her throat as I devoured her mouth.
The thought of her struggling for breath, lips bruised and bloodied, sent a shiver of twisted pleasure through me.
She nodded and then rose to her feet. And then looked between the door and me. “Do you need assistance, sir?”
I tilted my head slightly, suddenly wanting to put my mouth back on her throat.
“If you’re so inclined to offer your services, Ptichka.
” I stopped until her neck craned to look at me.
Fear and what looked like defiance danced in her eyes, amusing me to the point I desired to play with her, and she hooked her trembling hands under my arm.
She was small, barely reached my chest, and she thought she could assist me. Laughable.
She stiffened when I reached and draped my arm over her shoulder. Her tiny body shivering for a second as she swallowed again. Red tinted the back of her neck, and I looked at her hair. Again, glittery bows decorated her head. Presumably, she hadn’t dressed up for me.
Do I need to kill someone?
She opened the door with her other hand, and I draped my body over hers. She stumbled, then balanced herself to glare at me. Her nose was red; her cheeks burned bright. She wanted to spit fire, but that just amused me more. No woman had ever glared at me. She was the first.
“I’ll run the bath for you, sir.” The spitfire detached herself from my hold and rushed to the bathroom, leaving me standing at the door. I tilted my head and bit my lip, watching as her ass moved. It wasn’t a surprise I wanted to bite on them.
The moment she shut the bathroom door, I let my grin widen and lean against the wall, slowly taking off my robe and letting it fall on the floor.
Would she run away if I give her a glimpse of my cock today too?
Or she’d fall on her knees and suck me off?
After all, all women want was some cock to fill their holes with.
There was no way she was any different. I had seen any like her, feigning innocence, luring men in their webs, and then slurping on their souls, leaving them dry and bleeding dead.
I palmed my semi-erect throbbing cock and stayed on my spot waiting for my little bird to come and get me.
I’d be such a good boy for her.
My little bird opened the door slightly, her eyes roaming the room until they found mine. With a sigh, she timidly walked towards me, her gaze flitting over my chest before quickly averting. I narrowed my eyes, feeling a gush of irritation. I was giving her a view, and she was ignoring me.
I straightened up, taking a step closer to her, my body towering over her small frame. Her reluctance only fuelled my twisted pleasure. She didn’t seem to notice and said, “The bath is ready, sir.”
I raised my brow. “Join me.”
Her brown eyes widened, and she cleared her throat nervously. “What?”
“Help me bath, Ptichka. I’m a vulnerable man.” My voice dripped with false innocence, a dark undertone lurking beneath the words. She hesitated, looking around as if searching for an escape, but finally nodded.
Realizing I hadn’t moved, she reached for my arm. Her fingers settled around my bicep. They barely covered half of it. A flicker of frustration crossed her face as she tried using both hands, only to discover they still weren’t enough.
With a hesitant tug, she tried to guide me forward. I let her.
Her tiny hands strained against my arm, unaware of how effortless it would be for me to close the distance—or pin her where she stood.
She had no idea how completely she was at my mercy.
And somehow... that made her even more fascinating.
She shoved the bathroom door open with the toe of her boot, a hint of frustration slipping through her careful composure, and guided me inside.