Page 10 of The Hunted

“It sounded like you had something to say. Speak up.”

I say it a little harshly, but I’m reacting to the tone in her small remark. She meant something by that.

Turning to face me now, she answers, “Just sounded funny is all.”

Her words are small, still barely a whisper. She has that look of fear in her eyes again. I realize I hate that look on her face.

“Get dressed. I’ve got to go sort this shit.”

She peers up at me from her prone position on the bed, and I swear, I see relief roll across her features. It feels like a dismissal, and it pisses me off. It’s fine if she doesn’t want to be here. I can continue to monitor her without her knowledge. I’ve had my taste, after all. This one moment was all I could allow to happen between us. I can’t risk more. I can’t place her in danger by being a selfish prick and dragging her further into my world, no matter how much I might want to. No one survives long in my world.

She hops up from the bed, searching for her bra. I grab it and can’t help but antagonize her a bit. I let it dangle from my finger.

“Looking for this?” I try not to laugh as a

smile spreads across my face.

She turns to face me, covering her tits with her hands.

“Yes. Can I have it?”

“Say please.” I tease her, trying to lighten the shifted mood.

She rolls her eyes and huffs as she lowers her head while slightly swaying back and forth.

“Please,” she offers quietly, still refusing to let me see her face.

“Please what, Prey?” My tone drips with my want for her.

Look at me.

She raises those green eyes to me. I’m weak for beautiful eyes, and hers happen to be magical.

“Please, Hunter, may I have my bra?”

I hand it to her, and she turns her back to me so she can slip it on. I watch as she slides her arms into it and fastens it. I pick up my jeans and pull them on while she pulls her dress back up. She slides her hair to the side and fumbles, trying to get the zipper up. I hear her sigh of frustration. I walk up behind her and zip it the rest of the way, placing a light kiss on the back of her neck. Goose bumps spread across her flesh at the contact. I can’t help the satisfied smile that stretches my lips at her reaction to my touch. I turn around to get my shirt as she brushes past me toward the door.

“Good night,” I say to her retreating form. The air still hangs heavy with her scent, a reminder of the moment I almost had.

“Hunter,” is the only acknowledgement I get as she turns and walks out.

The click of the door closing behind her saddens me more than it should.

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