I do. I am trained in everything.
I slide next to a large maple and wait. Sure enough, after a moment Jade appears, looking around in concern.
“Elena? Elliott?” she says in a hoarse whisper. She pauses to look at her phone.
I watch her, my senses stirring. She tucks a bit of hair behind her ear, a gesture so young and endearing that I almost forget who she is. She is dressed properly for the heist. Black pants and a charcoal gray sweater over a tight turtleneck that accentuates those assets that I held in my hands just a week ago.
The urge to capture her and take her in the trees is strong. I want to strip her down in the brisk fall air, watch the colors flutter from the branches as I draw her down in a bed of leaves.
She unravels my control. I sense I cannot cause her pain that she does not enjoy. The strikes of the belt only fueled her. I want to know the edges of her need, the limits of her ecstasy. I want to push every boundary.
I want her.
The girl from my past has become a long distant memory now. Jade has obliterated her. I will not lose this one. I will take my swords and then I will have all of her.
She looks forward on the trail, then turns and looks back. She seems lost. But then she surprises me. She slides off her narrow flexible shoes, clearly custom made for the job, revealing bare feet.
She tucks her phone in an unseen pocket, also good. She has made her own clothes suitable for her work.
She leaps up and grasps a level branch. She swings her legs, moving up to the limb with the easy grace of a gymnast.
Interesting.
She shifts close to the trunk and carefully picks her way upward until she is well into the canopy. She looks over the woods, ostensibly to spot her friend. What she doesn’t expect to see is something else entirely.
Me.