Page 11 of Stalked

To mate.

A branch snapped behind him. Toby forced himself to push harder, breath ragged, his body already aching. He had to evade capture until dawn. He had to.

And he tried.

As the night passed, the woods around him began to erupt into sounds: snarls, moans, gasps. Toby’s breath came in sharp, painful bursts as his feet pounded against the earth, his legs starting to feel like lead.

It wasn’t the physical exertion that threatened to slow him down, though—it was the crushing weight of his own thoughts, dragging him under like a tide.

He wasn’t cut out for this. Hell, he wasn’t cut out foranything. He was nothing. That’s what he’d learned. Nothing to anyone who mattered.

Why was he even here? It was all just a game, a joke. The werewolves didn’t wanthim. No. They just wanted another cheap piece of meat, another body to make the hunt worth something.

A snap of a branch, close this time. Toby’s stomach churned, the cold seeping deeper into his bones. His muscles screamed for mercy, but he pushed on. He had to make it until dawn. He had to.

Because no one was going to save him. He would have to save himself. Even if it meant running until he couldn’t run anymore.

Behind him, howls pierced the night as werewolves claimed their prizes. The sounds of passion echoed through the trees, making his face flush hot despite his exhaustion.

He tripped over a root, catching himself against a thick tree trunk. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath. The rough bark pressed against his palm, grounding him in reality while his mind spun with possibilities.

In the distance, another cry of pleasure rang out. His cock twitched in response, and he bit his lip. This was different from the careful, controlled moments alone in his room, posting faceless photos and clips to his secret account. Different from the nights he'd spend editing videos, making sure no identifying marks showed while he displayed himself for strangers' approval.

Those moments had been safe. Clinical. But they'd given him a taste of what he craved: being seen, being wanted. He'd never dared to meet anyone from online, too afraid of rejection, of judgment. Too scared to let anyone close enough to touch him, to know the real him.

A moan echoed through the trees to his right, followed by a growl so primal it made Toby's stomach clench. The sounds of the mating run surrounded him now—panting breaths, skin against skin, whimpers that blurred the line between surrender and ecstasy. Everywhere in these woods, bodies were joining, claiming, taking.

Toby pressed himself against the tree trunk, dizzy with conflicting emotions. His body responded to the raw sexuality hanging in the air like a physical presence, but his mind raced with panic. He'd never even been kissed—not properly. His high school years spent dodging bullies, his college days buried in essays and careful observation. He'd constructed a thousand fantasies, but had no reality to compare them to.

Now he was drowning in it. The reality of desire made flesh.

He felt like a child at an adult party. A fraud. An intruder. A desperate laugh bubbled in his throat. For all his careful exhibitionism online, he wouldn't even know what to do if someone actually touched him.

The wind shifted. A chill skated across his skin, and suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. A lifetime of being bullied had sharpened his instincts. He knew when someone had locked onto him.

Someone was hunting him.

Toby whipped around just as something lunged from the shadows.

He barely had time to react, but he did. He dodged. His heart slammed against his ribs as he twisted out of reach, the air slicing past him where the grip should have landed. His body surged with a flash of pride, raw and unexpected.

But it lasted only a second.

A second wasn’t enough.

Because before he could run, before he could take another breath, they came again.

This time, he wasn’t fast enough. Strong arms wrapped around him from behind, a solid, unyielding force pulling him back against heat, muscle, power.

Toby gasped, body going rigid, every nerve screaming. A rough hand pressed against his stomach, holding him firm. A shiver of something dark and primal skated down his spine, tangled up in fear, in the kind of anticipation he didn’t want to name.

Hot breath ghosted over his neck. "You smell delicious."

The deep voice sent a shudder through him, sinking into his bones.

Oh.

Just like that, his hopes of escaping the night unscathed were over.

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