Because once your target relies on you to bring them pleasure, the cold denial of your attention brings them pain.
And pain is the ultimate conditioning tool.
Yet Orion presents a complication here with his aversion to touch. Without that simple anchor, I’m forced to be more creative.
I pivot and head in the direction of my office, my heels striking the sandstone in a sharp staccato that echoes the firing beat of my pulse.
Whether protective or possessive, my hunter is a predator, a creature ruled by instinct and driven by a primal impulse he can’t deny. While Orion may be unlike others of his kind, all predators have the same innate weakness.
And nothing lures a predator more effectively than the scent of wounded prey.
If I attracted one monster, I can attract another.
If foundational information disappears into a gaping maw, the notion of a ‘past’ itself may be in jeopardy—we couldn’t even be sure of our own histories. Our memories could be illusions.
—STEPHEN HAWKING, ON THE BLACK HOLE INFORMATION PARADOX
6
Gravity
You can’t blame gravity for falling in love.
—ALBERT EINSTEIN
ORION
Through the panoramic window of my observatory, I focus the monocular on Collins crossing the leaf-covered quad. All around, the clear ocean sky vies for my attention, yet I can’t take my eyes off the breathtaking view below.
Shoulder braced against the cool windowpane, I tighten my grip on the compact telescope. After grinding a new lens, the image quality is unmatched, bringing her close enough to burn.
Her legs are bare below the hem of her stylish skirt, where eight little buttons hold the pleat of fabric fixed, the suit jacket coming to rest an inch above the skirt hem. It’s just provocative enough to be distracting, but still professionally tailored to her petite body.
Dark waves bounce along the curve of her back as her heels punchdown with purpose, carrying her toward the arched colonnade, the overcast afternoon doing nothing to mute her striking presence. Though she’s trying, it’s impossible for her to blend into the scenery. She’s calling attention just by breathing.
Whether Collins realizes it or not, her presence has caused a disruption. I’ve fine-tuned this institute the way I calibrate every instrument in my observatory, and I can sense the interference in my bones.
Her vibration cracks through me like a fault.
Every time I catch the soft echo of her voice, or feel her gaze across a room, my ribs tighten, my sternum caving until breathing alone aches.
It has to be enough.
I watch her stride beneath one of the stone archways. She pulls out her phone and absently presses her foot to the column behind her, posed effortlessly at ease, her knees slightly parted. So tantalizingly seductive I almost feel ashamed for looking.
Almost.
Something dark and dangerous stirs beneath my skin. Seeing her in the darkened walkway by herself, vulnerable, as if she’s issuing a dare. The thought scratches at some deep itch just enough to inflame it.
It’s getting harder to find relief. Chasing hits of adrenaline, speeding my bike until the rush bleeds the turmoil from my veins, numbing the residual aches in my bones. And still, the hollow inside me deepens, this insidious hunger growing harder to satisfy.
Because fuck, this isn’t healthy. Pining after a woman who reminds me—with every aching breath—how dangerously close I am to losing control.
As if to reinforce that thought, I catch sight of Prescott approaching from the side. My spine stiffens as he steps into her space,leaning in far too close—and the sudden, intrusive urge to disembowel him with his own calipers grips me.
“That fucking prick,” I mutter.
“Even the most insufferable pricks don’t deserve to have their equipment sabotaged.”
