Page 50 of Haunted

I can’t handle him catching me again. I can’t handle another encounter where my visceral reactions betray everything I thought I believed about myself. Can’t handle the way he makes me forget everything except the dark hunger in his voice and the promise of surrender in his touch.

My bare feet slap against the stone as I race down the corridor, putting as much distance as possible between us.

21

XAVIER

Ifollow at a measured pace, my boots echoing against the stone in a steady rhythm that I know she can hear. There’s no need to rush.

Each turn she takes leads her deeper into my domain, further from any possible exit. The red silk flows behind her like a beacon, making it impossible for her to hide even if she tried. But she’s not trying to hide anymore. She’s running on pure instinct now, terror driving her forward without thought or strategy.

Perfect.

I maintain enough distance to keep her moving without catching her. This isn’t about the chase—it’s about the destination. Every corridor she chooses brings her closer to the heart of my creation, the rooms I’ve spent years perfecting for moments exactly like this.

The surveillance feed streams directly to my phone, showing me her exact location as she stumbles throughthe maze. Her breathing is ragged, her movements becoming more erratic as panic takes hold. She has no idea where she’s going, only that she needs to get away from me.

What she doesn’t understand is that there is no way. Not in here. Not anymore.

The path ahead splits into two corridors, and I watch through the cameras as she hesitates for just a moment before taking the left passage.

Her footsteps grow more frantic as she runs deeper into the maze, and I allow myself a small smile. She’s heading directly toward the Hall of Thorns, one of my more... creative ideas. The impact of that room never fails to prepare prey for what comes after.

And what comes after is my masterpiece.

The erotic pool waits beyond the Hall of Thorns—my favorite playground, the space I’ve designed with the most careful attention to every detail. The interplay of water and restraint, where panic transforms into a reaction far more interesting when combined with the right stimulus.

Mira has no idea what awaits her. The Hall of Thorns will strip away the last of her defenses and leave her vulnerable and raw before she reaches the pool. By then, her mind will be exactly where I need it—caught between terror and the dark hunger I’ve awakened in her.

I check my watch and quicken my pace. The timing needs to be perfect. She should reach the Hall of Thornsin approximately three minutes, giving her enough time to experience its depravity before I arrive.

The sound reaches me before I see her reaction—a sharp intake of breath that echoes off the stone walls. Mira has reached the Hall of Thorns.

Through the surveillance feed on my phone, I watch her freeze at the entrance. The massive metal spires rise around her like a forest of blades, their polished surfaces reflecting the blood-red lighting in fractured patterns across her skin.

She takes a tentative step backward, then another, her head turning frantically as she searches for another way out. But there isn’t one. Not from where she stands now.

I round the final corner of the corridor behind her. The sound of my footsteps forces her to spin around, and I see the exact moment her eyes find me in the shadows.

Those hazel eyes widen with a mixture of terror and desire. She’s trapped between the thorns ahead and me behind, with nowhere left to run.

“Quite the choice ahead of you,” I call out, my voice carrying easily down the long corridor between us. “You can walk through those thorns and face whatever waits on the other side, or...”

I take a slow step forward, watching her turn tense.

“You can come to me willingly. Save us both some time.”

The red lighting casts dancing shadows across her face as she glances back at the Hall of Thorns, then at me.I can practically see her mind racing, weighing her options.

“What’s it going to be, Mira?” I take another measured step closer. “The unknown dangers ahead, or the devil, you know?”

Her jaw sets in a defiant line. Even now, even trapped and terrified, she refuses to surrender. It’s what makes her so perfect for what I have planned.

“Neither,” she says, her voice shakier than she’d probably like.

But her feet betray her words. She turns back toward the Hall of Thorns, squaring her shoulders as if preparing for battle. Exactly what I wanted her to choose.

The thorns will strip away the last of her psychological defenses, leaving her raw and vulnerable for what comes after. She thinks she’s choosing defiance, but she’s actually choosing the path that leads directly into my hands.

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