I nod at the person working security, glad to see them here.
When I get to the spot, I’m breathing too hard to be the calm, cool hunter I prefer, but it’s too late. I hear her, walking through the woods, slightly south of where we were last night.
Immediately, my hackles—or whatever the human equivalent is—rise and everything sharpens. My vision, my hearing, my sense of smell. Even my skin feels more sensitive, picking up on things I’d never usually notice. Calm flows through me, like oxygen in my veins. Like a drug.
It’s always been this way, since the first time I chased a woman. That first time was…
I blow out a slow, relaxing breath and push back that well-worn memory. First times are always special and that one doubly so—me and Helen, me and my inner beast. Hell, me and myself. I was barely an adult going into that night, but I left fully me, subtly different, wiser, more deeply connected with who I was meant to be.
She—or her silhouette—shifts away from a group of trees to my left. Rather than give chase, I pull on my mask, wait, and listen, head tilted, breathing as quiet as I can get it. Just watch. I like the way she moves, her steps careful, but not overly cautious. Other things come back now that I’m here—now that I’m allowing them to. Her height was good. Different. And she was strong. That was a very pleasant surprise.
I reach down and press a palm to my cock. It’s heavy and warm, like the sultry summer air. It was oppressive today. Absolutely sweltering. Now, though, I welcome the heat. It’s a blanket around us. Another presence.
I move now, let my footsteps get as loud as they want, carelessly sending rocks careening off the path into the underbrush. I want her to call out again, like she did last night. It switched a flip, brought my inner predator closer to the surface than it’s been in ages.
I scuff noisily to a stop and will her to say something, cracking my knuckles slowly, loudly. There’s no denying the threat now.
“Um. Hello?” The rules say she shouldn’t talk, but fuck me, her voice. That rough little edge, so raspy and raw. “Are you…” She gives me a low, nervous laugh. “Is someone there? Here? Are you here?”
I clear my throat, just to taunt her.
She gasps. “Oh, God. Look, could you…” Her silhouette shuffles back a couple steps. “Listen. I just need to get home. Okay? Please?”
A dark, evil sound rumbles from my chest. It’s not quite a laugh, but it’s not far. I want to reply, but it’s best not to. Whispers only. That’s my rule. Although I love that she’s not following it. Like her body, like the way she runs and fights, like the tight clasp of her cunt, her voice plucks at some echoing chord inside me.
I inhale the scent of pine and rotting leaves. She spins and sprints. I take off behind her, my steps even and sure. My terrain. My land. My woman.
And maybe that last bit’s not true in the real world, but my inner Primal doesn’t give a shit. As far as the beast is concerned, she’s his. Mine.
The way the tension’s strung between us, she can run all she wants, I could catch her with my eyes shut. I close them for a second and follow the pull.
She thrashes into a denser area, making her way toward the clearing. I pick up the pace, narrow the distance, let sense-memory lead, and then I’m on her. I tackle her this time, torquing before we hit to take the brunt of the fall. It’s like my football-playing days, except my dick was never hard as nails back then. Well, that and I never fucked any of my opponents.
She’s halfway up before I drag her back down, adrenaline coursing through me so fast I barely soften my hold. She fights me harder tonight, forcing me to do the same. With every corkscrew of her body, every shallow kick, every elbow to my side, the boundaries shift closer to realism and deeper into my wheelhouse.
We’re a grunting, writhing mass, groping in the dark, by the time I’ve got her completely pinned.
“I should push your face into the dirt and fuck you right now,” I whisper straight into her ear.
Moaning, she trembles harder.
Jesus, I’ve never had someone whose reactions were so in sync with mine. It’s like she pulled the playbook from my brain and brought it into full, living color right here, under the stars.
“But I won’t,” I warn, knowing that my girl won’t like it.
She thrashes, as I expected, and goddamn, she’s strong. Our bodies roll fast and hard. What is this? Fucking Jiu Jitsu? I’ve probably got seventy-five pounds on her, but she’s not letting up. Every second the tussle drags on, I get hotter, harder, less controlled.
Finally, I get an opening, get her on her back, press my aching dick to the hot place between her legs. She tries to haul herself to one side, I wind a hand in her hair. She freezes.
“Don’t you fucking move again.”
I’m already working at her shorts when she replies. “Or what?”
* * *
Grace
I have no idea what kind of threat to expect. Honestly, I’m not thinking too straight by this point. I’m on fire.
