She’ll figure it out soon enough, and there will come a time when she’ll be begging for me to chase her through the woods in nothing but a mask. Until then, I’m going to enjoy showing her just how much fun this can be.

  Kyah runs deeper into the park, and I follow her every step, barely able to keep myself from coming in my pants. When she deviates from the path and shoots into the trees, my excitement almost brings me to my fucking knees.

  “You can’t escape me, Kyah,” I growl, listening to the sound of the fallen twigs and leaves breaking under her feet. “There’s nowhere you can go where I won’t find you.”

  She darts behind the thick trunk of a tree, and the sound of her heavy panting is like a fucking beacon drawing me in. I step around trees and push through the smaller bushes. I’m in heavy boots, but Kyah’s got no shoes at all, and I can only imagine the cuts along the soles of her feet. Not to mention the scrapes and gashes that are no doubt decorating her creamy thighs. But it’s fine, it only adds to the excitement of the adventure.

  God, I love a fucking adventure.

  Slowing my pace, I creep through the thick trees, listening to every sound of the night, loving how the trees seem to block out the noise of the busy street, making it easier to focus on my girl. Her panting gets louder, and she shoots forward again, the subtle glow from the moonlight illuminating her just perfectly as she darts through the trees. I break to the right, following her like a hound in the night.

  When I told her she couldn’t escape me, I meant every fucking word.

  Kyah runs herself into a corner, but the trees are too cramped to slip between. Her only choice is to turn back, but I’m already there, and as she turns and comes face-to-face with me, she whimpers, backing up against the trunk of a massive tree. “Please,” she begs, her eyes wide as she quickly scans over me, taking in the mask, my bare chest, and then sinking her gaze even lower and seeing just how ready I am for her.

  She sucks in a breath, her eyes shooting right back to mine, and in a second of insanity, she breaks into a sprint. She darts to my left, but my arm shoots out, catching her around the throat and throwing her right back against the tree. “Now why would you go and try something stupid like that?” I growl, pinning her to the tree as we both strain to catch our breath.

  She’s terrified now, but she’s also worked up, and as I grind my cock into her, she whimpers again, confused by her own emotions.

  My fingers tighten around her throat, and as the tree scratches up her back, the subtle moan that slips from her lips is music to my fucking ears. This is usually the time when I would end her life, feeling the electrifying thrum of her pulse in the base of her throat, but there’s nothing usual about this. Nothing usual about her.

  I don’t know how she managed to do it, but over the past two-ish months, the axis of my world has shifted, and suddenly it doesn’t revolve around my own needs anymore. It revolves around hers.

  I lean into her, watching how her sharp gaze tracks my every movement. My other hand comes down on her thigh, and I slowly drag it back up to her waist, goosebumps spreading over her skin. My head tilts down toward the curve of her neck, and I breathe her in, so fucking addicted to the sweet scent. “Look at you, baby,” I murmur. “See how you come alive for me?”

  I feel as she swallows hard, her eyes meeting mine as she hesitantly nods. “Let me go, Alex.”

  I shake my head. “You and I both know that’s not an option,” I tell her. “But that’s not really what you want, is it?”

  Her brows furrow as though she’s terrified of actually admitting what she wants. That would mean that she’s more like me than she ever realized, and there’s not a damn thing wrong with that. If you ask me, it’s a thing of beauty.

  “Are you . . . are you going to kill me?” she whimpers, her eyes fluttering as my fingers sweep over her waist.

  “That’s up to you, Mace,” I tell her, pressing my body against hers and trailing my hand back down to her thigh before hitching it up over my hip so I can really grind into her. “Lie to me, and you might find yourself in a position you don’t want to be in.” I pause a moment, letting the words sink in before asking her once again. “What do you want, Kyah?”

  She whimpers again but brings her hand up to clutch my shoulder, digging her nails into my skin. The hesitation remains in her eyes, but there’s also a flash of hunger, of a deep burning desire to play out her wildest fantasies. “Fuck me, Alex,” she grits between a clenched jaw, raising her chin as if to prove something to herself.

  I grin wide, my tongue rolling over my lips, but beneath this mask, she wouldn’t be able to see. Instead, I grab her wrists in one hand, holding them captive above her head and whipping her around until her chest is pressed against the bark of the tree. “How?” I growl in her ear, my cock straining to be inside her, and while this is more than I could ever want, I’m also more than aware that this is quickly becoming her fantasy too, and I plan on letting her enjoy every fucking second of it.

  “Hard,” she pants. “Fast.”

  Keeping her hands pinned above her head, I reach down between us with my other hand, quickly working my belt buckle and freeing my cock. Then the second Kyah feels me, she presses her ass back into me, hungry for it.

  Gripping the soft material of her little booty pajama shorts, I tear them down her legs, and she hastily steps out of them, panting heavily as she tries to look back, but with her arms up, she can barely move.

  I kick her feet apart, spreading those pretty thighs before reaching down and pressing my fingers to her sweet cunt. She’s fucking soaked, just as I knew she would be, and I don’t hesitate, thrusting my fingers deep inside of her. Kyah cries out, tipping her head back as she arches, pushing her hips back and silently begging for more. I do it again, taking her hard and fast just as she demanded before pulling free and dragging my fingers forward and skimming over her sensitive clit, loving the way her body crumbles beneath my touch.

  My fingers are soaked with her arousal, and I pull her back against my chest, not releasing her wrists for even a second, and I lift my fingers to her lips. “Suck.”

  Kyah doesn’t hesitate, greedily opening her mouth and sucking my fingers clean. “See what I do to you?” I growl in her ear before pushing her chest back against the tree, her hands going high above her head once again. “No other man will ever make you feel the way I do, won’t ever make you come like I do.”

  Kyah groans, nodding her head as I step in behind her, fisting my cock. I work my hand up and down as I position myself right at her entrance, and with one powerful thrust, I slam inside her tight cunt.

  “Ahh, fuck,” she cries out, her walls immediately clenching around me, squeezing so fucking tight, she could tear my fucking cock right off if she wanted.

  “That’s right, Mace,” I rasp, gritting my teeth as the overwhelming pleasure rocks through me. I pull back and thrust again, both of us gasping. “Fucking take me.”

  “More,” she demands, and I give her everything she needs, fucking her like I’ll never get the chance again. I thrust into that sweet cunt over and over, feeling the way she clenches around my cock, soaking in the intense pleasure, and when her knees start to shake, I know this won’t take long.

  My balls tighten, desperate for a release, but I hold out, waiting for her while wishing I could lose the fucking mask and bite that creamy inked shoulder, but I won’t dare. I have plenty of time for that. “Fuck, Alex,” Kyah grunts, her hands balling into tight fists above her head. “I need . . . I need—”

  “I got you, baby,” I growl, taking her hip and tilting it back just an inch. My cock plunges into her at a new angle, instantly driving her wild with need, and as she cries out again, I reach my hand around and dive deep between her thighs to rub tight circles over her clit.

  Everything clenches, and as I roll her clit between my fingers, she detonates, coming hard. Her whole body shudders, and she collapses against the tree. She’s practically hanging from her wrists, locked in my tight grip as I fucking explode, coming right along with her and emptying my load deep inside her cunt.

  “Oh, God,” she pants, her chest heaving with heavy breaths as I lean into her, needing a minute to find my composure.

  I release her wrists, and her hands fall lifelessly by her sides as I take her waist and turn her to face me. I press back into her, keeping her pinned against the tree and hating the small cuts on her face from the bark, but to be honest, I don’t think she even realizes they’re there.

  Finding the strength to lift her hand, she presses it against my chest, her palm flat against the design she inked into my skin. She visibly swallows, lifting her gaze to mine, struggling to find words. “You terrify me,” she finally says, her pulse thrumming wildly at the base of her throat.

  I hold her gaze and slowly nod, my hand digging into my pocket. “I know,” I tell her, unapologetically. And with that, I reach out and watch as my syringe pierces her flesh before pushing a strong sedative. Her eyes widen just a fraction, a soft gasp on her lips, and before she even gets a word out, she crumbles right into my arms.

  38

  KYAH

  My head spins as I open my eyes, peering into a darkened room lit only by a flickering industrial light above me. I groan, trying to figure out where the fuck I am as a repetitive drip, drip, drip, echoes through the room, each little drip like a bullet straight through my skull.

  My vision fades in and out of focus as my pounding head wills me to close my eyes and fall into a deep unconsciousness, but something warns me that I need to have my wits about me, that something isn’t right here.

  My brows furrow, and I groan as I try to roll over. Only something catches on my wrists, and as I peer through the darkness, I find a silver cuff around my wrist, connected to a heavy chain, and the moment I make out the unfamiliar bed beneath me, everything starts coming back.

  Nat’s house. Alex’s text. Running. My heart pounding. The fear. I hit the park, my feet getting all cut up beneath me, and then he caught me. I remember the way my heart raced, how conflicted I was. Terror warring with desire until he finally demanded an answer. What did I want?

  Him. Always him.

  He fucked me right there in the middle of the thick trees in Central Park, made me scream until my throat was raw, and then I came, but it wasn’t like the other times he’s brought me to the edge. This was animalistic. Wild and needy. I cried out for more, and he gave me exactly what I needed as though he knew my body better than I ever will, and after drowning in a sea of undeniable pleasure, he . . . fuck.

  It all went dark.

  There was a brief flash of a syringe followed by a sharp pinch at the base of my neck, and then . . . nothing.

  Trying to ignore the fear in my chest, I look around the room. It’s small, and judging by the metal shelving and old cans of non-perishable foods, this has got to be some kind of forgotten storm cellar. The bed I lay on is dirty, nothing but an old, stained mattress with a single pillow. The room has a damp, musky smell to it as though the leak currently doing my head in has been there for quite some time.

  Testing the cuff and chains, I pull on my wrist, and while the chains have a little bit of slack, allowing me to venture out from the bed, the cuff is securely in place, making it clear that this is not Alex’s first rodeo. Hell, the old rusty stains on the ground could have told me that, only it’s not rust at all—it’s blood.

  I’m not the first woman he’s kept down here, not the first woman he’s cuffed and chained. The only question is, where the hell do we go from here? Surely he doesn’t intend to let me live after he’s taken it this far. I can identify him, and considering what he did to his mother, I’m sure I wouldn’t have to work very hard to ensure he’s put behind bars. So why the hell is that the last thing I want for him?

  God. That must make me some kind of monster. He’s a killer. A stalker. I shouldn’t want him like this. I shouldn’t be so excited about the idea of seeing him again.

  If I make it out of this alive, perhaps it’s time to look into seeing a therapist. I’m sure they’ll have plenty to say about my current state of mind. Hell, if they’re smart, they’ll have me strapped to a gurney in a straitjacket with no visitation rights because surely I’m certifiably insane. There’s no other explanation.

  I sit on the old mattress for what feels like an hour until the sound of a heavy lock clattering pulls me back to reality. My heart races, my hands shake, and I throw myself to my feet, the heavy chains dangling from my wrist weighing me down.

  I watch the door with wide eyes, and every passing second feels like a lifetime. When blinding sunlight tears through the small cellar, I wince against it, my head instantly rejecting its brightness as Alex pushes the big door open. Judging by the daylight flooding in, I must have been here for at least a few hours. It was around two in the morning when his texts came through, and then I sat on Nat’s couch for a while before finally running out into Central Park.

  He was hard and fast when he finally caught me in the trees, but it didn’t last long, not like the night in my bedroom when he took my ass. It must have been a little after three in the morning when he shot me up with that sedative. The sun doesn’t usually rise until at least seven, so I must have been passed out for a minimum of four hours.

  Shit. Nat is going to be a mess.

  Alex steps into the damp cellar and pushes the heavy door closed behind him, blocking out the hard sunlight. I’m blinded for just a moment as my eyes try to adjust to the darkness, but when the light above me flashes back into existence, I find Alex standing across the room, leaning against the metal shelving, his ankles crossed as he peers at me.

  He’s deathly silent, his arms crossed over his wide chest, and all I can do is stare at him.

  My heart pounds, but I honestly don’t know why. Out of fear? Maybe. Or maybe it’s because it always beats like that whenever his dark eyes rest upon mine.

  The silence stretches between us, and when it becomes too much to bear, I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “You’re fucked in the head. You know that, right?”

  A wide grin stretches across his face, and I hate how much I love it, hate how it brightens the whole fucking cellar. “Oh, my sweet Kyah,” he drawls in that deep tone that drives me insane. “Of course I know that. How could I not? But what really turns me on is that you are too. You just haven’t realized it yet.”

  I arch a brow. “Okay, now I know you’re definitely insane,” I tell him, lifting my wrists and dangling the heavy chain. “Feel like explaining this, Parkour?”

  “You still have your sense of humor,” he notes. “Good.”

  “Seriously?” I scoff, gaping at him. “You’ve been stalking me for weeks, sneaking into my apartment and fucking me in the middle of the night. You chased me through Central Park in a mask, and I’m almost certain you’re responsible for Viper’s death, but you’re worried about my sense of humor. What the hell is wrong with you, Alex? Do you have any idea how messed up all of this is?”

  His gaze darkens, and he pushes away from the metal shelving, making my mouth go dry. I swallow hard, suddenly not feeling so brave. It was one thing to give him attitude when I thought he was nothing more than the guy across the hall who I was falling in love with, but this man before me isn’t that guy. He’s my stalker, a possible killer, and provoking him now is foolish.

  Alex strides toward me, stopping just an inch out of my reach. “Messed up is the fact that I haven’t killed you yet.”

  My eyes widen, his comment sobering me to my new reality. “Why?” I ask, my tone dropping to a near whisper, my lips trembling.

  Alex reaches up, and I don’t even try to flinch away from his touch as he brushes his knuckles down the side of my face. Hell, I lean into him, hating how much I love him. “My sweet Kyah, haven’t you figured it out yet?” he murmurs, his dark eyes softening as he watches the way I so deeply crave his touch. “I could never hurt you.”

  I gaze up at him, letting him see the true fear in my eyes. “You’re hurting me right now.”

  A heaviness flashes in his eyes, and he steps into me, his hands gripping my ass and effortlessly lifting me into his arms. He walks back to the shitty bed and sits down on the edge so that I’m straddled over his lap, my arms and the heavy chain dangling down his strong back. “I’m sorry, Mace,” he murmurs, those loving eyes lingering on mine and making me believe that I can trust him. “This is only a precaution, just until I know that you’re not going to do something stupid.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know too much,” he tells me. “What I’ve been doing . . . Usually the women I play with end up in shallow graves across the country, and I don’t need to concern myself with the possibility that they will report me to the authorities, but you’re different, Kyah. I can’t bring myself to end your life, which means that you currently hold a power over me that I’ve never allowed before, and I don’t know what to do with that.” He pauses, taking a breath as his gaze lingers on mine. “I’ve never allowed a woman close enough to know my name, know my face, and I sure as fuck haven’t allowed her to mark my body with a design that could be used to identify me. I play it carefully, always covering my tracks, but with you, I’ve been a mess. I can’t keep away from you.”

  My fingers twine into the back of his hair, unable to keep from touching him despite the terrifying reality of our conversation. “You’re never going to let me go, are you?”

  Alex presses his lips into a tight line. “That’s up to you, Kyah,” he says. “Like I said, I don’t get off on hurting you. That’s not what I want, but if I can’t trust you to protect me the way I’ve protected you, then no, I won’t be allowing you to leave.”

  Tears well in my eyes, and before I get a chance to blink them away, they roll down my cheeks. Alex trembles at the sight, his heart on his sleeve. “Baby, don’t cry. I can’t handle your tears.”