Primal Pursuit

I sink to the ground and bury my face in my hands and try to breathe my way back to a reality that I can comprehend.

For a week, I don’t hear from him. A week where I throw myself into training and work. A week where I slowly stop looking over my shoulder and jumping any time someoneapproaches in my apartment building. It’s never Giovanni. And it’s never Davian.

I hate myself for wanting to text him, something I hold out on. But a strange worry has trickled down into me, and I don’t like it.

Maybe the kiss was a goodbye. Maybe he decided it was done.

Something shifted with that kiss, with that entire night. I felt it. Right down deep. And now…he’s gone.

At the end of the week, I’m half convinced he’s not coming back and…shit.Do I want him to? Do I want him to come back? Do I miss him?

If he doesn’t come back, at least all these conflicting emotions would go away. But then that negates all this time and energy I put into tracking him down.

I want him to come back.

I want to kill him.

Don’t I?

Of course I want him dead. By my hand. And more so, I want the information he has on who hired him. For some reason, my need for that info is starting to smother the bloodlust I had for Davian’s demise. It’s like the need to kill him is no longer a breathing fire inside my veins.

God. I don’t know. What I do know is that the universe is currently chewing my ass and spitting me out into a vortex of confusion just for shits and giggles.

After a busy shift at the restaurant, I head home. The weather has been great the past few days, the sun shining and the evenings vibrant and cool. So I decide to walk, clutching my bag as I make my way down the sidewalk.

My skin prickles, and I stop to look around. Everythinginside me hopes it’s him. I want it to be him watching me. Following me. Hunting me.

Oh, my God. I really am the prey.

I don’t see him, but that silver car is there, and the air shifts like he’s watching me. With a shaking breath, excitement hot in my veins, I turn down an alley as someone gets out of the car. I catch a glimpse of them.

One of his watchers, no doubt. Another player to spur on a little fear, heighten the thrill of the chase.

The excitement bubbles higher, adrenaline flooding my system.

I’ve missed this. Too much.

A shadow, long and tall, falls at the end of the alley, and my heart leaps up in my chest.

I turn…and I run.

I don’t hear him because the man is silent. A ghost. But as I glance over my shoulder, I glimpse him and my blood starts to hum with delight.

Davian Stark is a beautiful man.

Cruel killer.

Expert hunter.

And I need this. I need the chase. To breathe. To escape. To feel alive.

He’s all in black, his eyes on me, and his pace doesn’t change, but those long legs eat alleyway, and I race around the corner, hiding in a doorway until he passes me. I wait as he glances about, then moves on ahead.

I run again, back to the alley in the other direction, and I think he’s got wind of me because a soft word reaches me, one that sounds like “Rabbit.”

A giggle bubbles up along with a lick of golden fear,and when I reach the end of the alley, I pound pavement until I run smack into a man with a Cubs cap. The same man from the car. There’s another man-figure approaching.

“Hey, little lady. You okay?”