Being hunted wasn’t just a game.
It was a spark striking tinder, heat spreading everywhere at once until there was a wildfire racing through my veins, licking across my skin from the inside out.
Five steps.
Six.
Seven.
A sound cracked the silence—soft, sharp, like tile creaking under shifting weight.
What was that?
My pulse didn’t live in my chest anymore. It banged in my throat, in my wrists, in the hollow between my thighs.
The hiss of the shower swallowed everything, but that creak rang louder than thunder. My breath dragged out harsh, and suddenly it was the only sound I could hear, a desperate signal betraying me in the dark.
Eight steps.
Nine.
Ten.
Every curl of steam looked like a shadow moving, every flicker of candlelight like his body about to break through.
Fuck. I have to stay on guard.
My only plan was that if he lunged out to grab me. . .maybe I could drop and roll. Then. . .have the mist hide me too.
I almost wanted to laugh at that.
What the fuck did I know about stalking prey through steam and shadows?
Kenji had way more skill at this than I did. He’d built the terrain, set the stage, cloaked himself like some seasoned predator who had all the time in the world.
But still. . .my lips curved.
This was fun.
Twisted, erotic fun.
A thrill I could taste in the back of my throat, hot and sharp. My heart might be racing, my body shaking, but the fear only made it sweeter.
Sexier.
So what if he was the Dragon and I was supposed to be his prey? I could play that game. I could lean into the hunt.
I would give this a try and be the Tiger. The predator.
Even if I lost—and oh, I probably would—I’d make damn sure it was exciting.
Eleven steps.
Twelve.
Thirteen.
Then. . .to my shock. . .the overhead lights blinked out.
