Page 80 of Prey
I sit up slowly, reaching for the knife. Test its edge against my thumb. Sharp enough to kill, if I had the opportunity. My eyes flick to his, searching for the trap.
“You’re really going to give me a weapon?”
“I told you I would. I’m making it more interesting.” He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching me examine the blade. “You’ve been learning and adapting. Time to see what you can do when you’re properly equipped.”
“Yesterday’s hunt wasn’t challenging enough for the big bad hunter?”
His lips twitch. “You lasted ninety minutes. Not bad for someone who spent three months playing vigilante in Chicago.”
“Playing?” I spin the knife between my fingers, a casual display of competence. “Tell that to the five collectors who aren’t breathing anymore.”
“Six,” he corrects. “You missed Viktor’s cousin. I cleaned that up for you last week using your signature kill.”
“How thoughtful,” I drawl, forcing nonchalance into my tone. “Should I send a thank-you card?”
“You can thank me later.” His gaze drops to where the sheet barely covers my breasts. “When you’re on your back in the dirt, taking my cock like the good girl we both know you want to be for me.”
Heat floods my core at his words. “Bold assumption.”
“Is it?” He pushes off the doorframe and moves closer. I don’t move from the bed, even when he stops inches away. “Tell me, Jenna. When you killed those collectors, did you think about me? Wonder what you’d do if you could hold the knife against my throat?”
My grip tightens on the knife handle. “I thought about surviving.”
“Liar.” His hand reaches out, fingers ghosting along my jaw. I could cut him. The blade is right there. Instead, I stay perfectly still as he traces my bottom lip. “You thought about me every time you sliced into their throats. Wondered if you’d slice my throat or beg me for cock.”
“Your ego is showing.”
“So is your arousal.” His thumb presses against my lip, not quite breaching my mouth. “I can smell how aroused you are from here.”
I bite his thumb, not hard enough to break skin but enough to make a point. He doesn’t even flinch.
“Careful,” he murmurs. “That mouth has better uses.”
“Like telling you to fuck off?”
“Like begging me to breed you.” His free hand tangles in my hair. “Which is exactly what’s going to happen when I catch you today.”
“When?” I arch an eyebrow, fighting the shiver his grip sends through me. “Not if?”
“Not if.” He releases me. “Four hours, beautiful. Try not to hurt yourself with that knife. I have plans for that body.”
“Maybe I have plans for yours.” I stand, letting the sheet fall away. His eyes darken as they travel my naked form, and I use the distraction to test the knife’s weight. “Maybe today’s the day you learn what I can really do.”
He laughs. “Is that right? I’ll be seeing you soon, baby.”
The door closes behind him, leaving me alone with a weapon and a choice. I dress quickly in the new athletic gear he has provided, strapping the knife to my hip, shouldering the pack.
I catch my reflection in the mirror—flushed skin, kiss-swollen lips, armed but still marked by his possession. The knife at my hip should make me feel powerful. Instead, it feels like another form of his control. He’s given me a weapon knowing I won’t use it against him. Not really.
Because we both know the truth. I’m not trying to escape anymore. I’m testing him as much as he is me. Trying to challenge him, to make myself a worthy prize.
I test the blade one more time, watching light dance along its edge. In my mind, I see myself spinning when he catches me, steel flashing toward his ribs. I draw blood. He pins me anyway. I take him on the forest floor, still bleeding from a cut I gave him. That’s the fantasy.
The realization should devastate me. Instead, it makes me move faster, heading for the door. Four hours. Four hours to get as far as I can, to make this interesting. To transform from his prey into a predator that might actually challenge him.
Not because I want to escape.
Because I want him to earn it. And because the next time he catches me, I want him to bleed for it.
