Page 72 of Stalker

She laughed. “Touché, werewolf. Creature of the night. That was you. Wasn’t it? I’ve often wondered what a man needing to wear a mask had hidden in the dark corners of his closet.”

“I never hide, Lady Butterfly. Given my position, there’s no need to. Now, imagine my shock in learning that you’re stalking me.”

Her laugh lilted throughout the room. “Why do I have a feeling that’s an action fitting squarely into your domain?”

“Be careful categorizing me, Lady Butterfly. You could be wrong on every account.”

“We have one thing in common, Wilder. I’m never wrong.”

“Well then, you’re correct in that I take what I want without question.”

I took a purposeful deep whiff, holding my breath in my lungs. She had yet to take her eyes off me. I already knew more about her than she realized, including the fact the auction had been way out of her comfort zone. Yet she’d learned the art of wearing a mask without the hindrance of any suffocating material pressed against her face.

She’d done so for her profession yet there was something else. Something much darker lurking just under the surface.

“Well, then I guess you’ll find yourself disappointed when I don’t succumb to your every whim.”

I tilted my head, savoring every second of the increased electricity. “I assure you that as I experienced before, you will find yourself not only easily surrendering, but enjoying every moment of doing so.”

“Then you don’t know me very well.”

“Perhaps I don’t, but we’re about to correct that. Unless you’ve changed your mind about your generous donation to such a worthy cause.”

She laughed again, but there was added tension in the tone. The slight hint of crimson shifting across her jaw was an indication I’d not only struck a nerve, but in reminding her of our slight history together, I’d reawakened hungers she continually attempted to shove aside.

Perhaps because of that prick she’d been dating.

“Oh, I intend on going through with the date, Mr. Blackwell. I can’t wait to see what you have in mind for the perfect romantic evening.”

“I never said I was romantic.” When I grinned, she shook her head.

“Duly noted. You’re fairly well known, Mr. Blackwell.”

“I don’t think we need to be that formal any longer. Do we, Lady Butterfly?”

She smiled and pulled away from my touch, attempting to take control by acting nonchalant. There was an intense gleam in her eyes, her expression one of defiance. This was much more her element, not the wounded creature being abused by her ex.

“No, I guess we do not. I’m surprised you allowed yourself to become a bachelor.”

I shrugged. “All for a good cause. Yes?”

“Very much so. But what would a hunter be doing at a more pedestrian event?” She was goading me into exposing the predator inside of me.

“Tonight, I am merely a lowly bachelor in need of a date.”

“Right. So we’re playing that game.”

“And what game is that?”

“Pretending we aren’t who we truly are.” A slight wicked smile followed her statement.

“I don’t think there is anything wrong with role playing. Do you?”

She tried to act as if she was disinterested, but as always, her eyes gave her away. “I suppose. As long as the players know the rules beforehand.”

“Ah, you’re one of those.”

“Meaning?”

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