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Walk away.

You’re better than this.

No more games.

But I know myself too well for that. I’ve already caught the scent of the hunt.

I’m about to make the same mistakes I always do.

CHAPTER

ELEVEN

LYNX

What the fuck is he doing to me?

I’m going out of my fucking mind the entire way back home. I forget to look ahead, forget to be aware of my surroundings, forget to do anything other than replay the way his skin shone silvery in front of me. How those long eyelashes scooped up the shadows, and his hair sparkled with starlight.

Sasha is no human.

That’s twice now that I’ve fallen under his spell, and this time, it’s a lot harder to shake off. I’m still out of sorts by the time I reach home, and I stomp up the stairs and slam the door behind me before Bob can follow me inside. I’ve never locked him out before, but this isn’t something he can witness.

My back hits the door, feet not able to take another step before I deal with the overwhelming problem between my legs. It’s never, ever been this bad before, and when I spit in my hand and slide it into my pants to wrap around my shaft, the strangled laugh that leaves me catches me completely by surprise.

Oh, fuck, it feels so good.

I can’t remember the last time I touched myself. It’s a useless, pointless waste of time, and like this, slightly feverish and unable to focus, I open myself up to attack. I should be listening for sounds outside, but all I can hear is Sasha’s pretty little words of for the right person, there’s strength in being weak. I should be checking there’s no one lurking in my home, but all I can see is Sasha’s long, silvery torso. The grooves, his nipples, the way I’d ached to touch him, just to see if I could shatter the illusion to dust.

I jerk off faster, knowing I need to stop and get my fucking senses together, but I can’t. I’m completely out of control.

Sasha’s got me under some kind of spell, and the only way to end it is to get all this poison out. To dispel the way he’s infecting my brain. To lessen the need he’s filling my dick with.

I squeeze my cock painfully, hating the power it has over me, but even the pain won’t make me stop. I’m leaking and so fucking swollen, slipping closer to the part I hate. The part where everything goes fuzzy and the world around me disappears.

For just a second.

But a second too long.

I want to scream with the frustration of it all.

My free hand twists in the cords of my hoodie and pulls the strings tight. It closes around my throat, pressing hard, trying to snap myself out of this intense need, but nothing works.

Nothing except picturing him. His face. His body. Those curls I could crush with my teeth.

I slam my head back into the door, trying to knock the images free, but they just keep coming. My dick is so fucking hard, and my balls are so fucking tight, and everything I’m wearing feels like a damn tourniquet. I need out of this. I need it to stop. I need it to be over so I can get my mind back and never, ever let this happen again.

Sasha is dangerous.

I underestimated him.

I’ve never underestimated anyone.

Why does that make me even harder?

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” I slam my head back with every word.

He’s got me. He’s fucking got me.