“We both will,” Rachel corrected him, grabbing Julia’s hand like she’d fight anyone who objected.
No one did. Including Roman, who looked less angry than appalled that such a thing had happened under his nose. Oddly enough, that made her feel the tiniest bit better. Because after everything tonight, and at the clubs, and with a serial killer on the loose hunting submissive women, she’d begun wondering if good doms still existed.
They walked her all the way to her car. Julia didn’t remember the drive. One minute, she was leaving the lot. The next, she had parked in her apartment space, engine humming, headlights piercing the empty spots before her.
Twenty minutes gone. Just… gone.
Her hands remained locked on the steering wheel. Her breath was coming too fast and too shallow. She forced herself to relax. Inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly. Eventually, her grip loosened, and her head fell back against the seat.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
So desperate to move on, to not feel alone anymore, she went looking for something to fill the void. But she already knew she wouldn’t find it at a sub-par club or a party among strangers.
After a moment, she pushed the door open and walked inside on rubbery legs.
***
He watched them walk her out, giving it enough time not to draw attention before following. Her car wasn’t remarkable. Acharcoal-gray Honda like half the city drove, but theLove is a Verbbumper sticker made it easy to spot once he knew it was hers.
He’d lost sight of her for weeks. Then she turned up tonight. Right under his nose.
The scene hadn’t gone well for her. For him, it had been something else entirely.
She had beautiful skin. It flushed easily under the lash. Not as vocal as he preferred, but that could be corrected.
Tears had clung to her lashes, not quite falling. He would take those too. In time.
The dom hadn’t lacked confidence. He’d lacked finesse—missed the cues, pushed without understanding what he had in front of him. Still, he’d enjoyed watching his fingers close around her throat. He’d seen her fear, her struggle, and wished it was his hand instead.
The host had stepped in, concerned with rules and safewords. As if that mattered.
Her brake lights flared as she turned into the apartment complex. He eased back, allowing another car to slip between them before rolling into the lot. She parked but didn’t get out right away.
He watched, waiting, weighing the opportunity.
The lot itself was a mess, the cracked asphalt, the holes and faded lines, but the lighting was annoyingly solid. Bright bulbs. New. The entryway was practically glowing.
Not ideal.
He tracked her path from car to door. The angles were all wrong. Too many windows faced the lot. A couple on a balcony. A dog walker cutting across the sidewalk.
It was too exposed. There were too many variables. Too much chance of being seen.
Her interior light came on. She climbed out, head down, wiping at tears she couldn’t hide as she hurried to the entrance. In less than a minute, she disappeared inside. The door shut firmly behind her.
He let the engine idle, settling back in his seat as the tension in him coiled into something sharper. The timing hadn’t been right tonight, but that was fine. Now he knew where his little bird nested.
His fingers tapped the steering wheel, slow and measured. The hunt mattered. The slow tightening of the net. The moment she finally understood she’d been chosen.
Patience had always served him well. He could wait for a while. But not forever.
It had already been too long, and the pressure was building. Not yet but soon.
He started the engine and pulled out of the lot. A car honked when he cut them off. He barely noticed, his attention fixed on the dark apartment building in his rearview mirror.
When she was his, he’d tell her exactly how close she’d come tonight.
Chapter 18
