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HUNT AND HUNGER

DIYA

I t was just past two in the morning when I slipped out of my cottage. Everything was eerily still when I opened the back gate and snuck into the asylum.

I let out a sigh of relief when I reached Asher’s room.

I glanced around, letting my eyes adjust to the dim light. Everything was neatly in place, exactly where it belonged, unlike the mess he had left at The Gates.

I switched on the light, noticing his backpack resting in the corner.

I turned toward the bed with an excited smile.

“Hello, Maddox.”

Even unconscious, his body was stiff. His fists were clenched, as if he was preparing for a battle, fighting wars in his dreams.

I understood how it felt, to live like that, to look over your shoulder every second of every day. Never letting your guard down, never resting, never stopping to trust another person.

Pulling his hands above his head, I cuffed them to the metal headboard before slapping him lightly on his cheek. “Hey there, sleeping beauty. Wakey, wakey, it’s time for you to learn some manners.”

His eyes fluttered open, and his mouth became a big O as his befuddled eyes searched the room until they met mine. Anger soon followed confusion. “You… you poisoned me?” he groaned, blinking up at me.

“I didn’t poison you. You wouldn’t be alive if I had. I just drugged you.”

“You… what the fuck’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me? Let’s talk about what’s wrong with you. You stalked me and broke into my hotel room after I clearly warned you. I’m not happy about that,” I said, staring down at his helpless form with a chuckle.

“You weren’t even in the room. You were with Vincent,” he spat out, eyes dangerously dark. “How do you know I was there?”

He wasn’t even trying to deny it anymore.

“I implanted a tracker in your ass.” I licked my lips when his eyes went wide. His stoic mask broke, and I loved how shocked he looked, how appalled. He wasn’t as unshakable as he pretended to be. “I knew you’d pull something like that.”

“You did NOT …” He moved his ass up and down, thrashing against the handcuffs, as if he wanted to check if the tracker was still in his ass.

“Your fucking face.” Laughing, I traced his chin, making him shudder. “Calm down. I didn’t insert it in your ass.”

“Very funny.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m still laughing,” I said, pulling my phone out from inside my trench coat. There on the screen was… Asher, touching himself with my lace panties clutched in his hand. “Oh, lookie here. It’s you, and what are you doing? Sniffing my panties, Pussycat? This is so wrong.” I shook my head. “And where is your other hand? Were you touching your hard, little cock?”

It wasn’t little in any way, shape, or form.

He stilled for a second, studying my phone screen, staring at the evidence of his guilt.

“The trip took a slight, raunchy detour, didn’t it?” Winking, I grabbed the knife from my trench coat. “Bad boy, Pussycat. What a fucking bad boy. And… bad boys must be punished.” He flinched when I waved the knife at him.

“Let me go, you psycho bitch,” he growled, eyes flaming with violence. He didn’t look so smug anymore. I traced the knife down his chest until it was closer to his stomach. He jerked up when I pressed it slightly against his stiff cock.

Throwing a leg over his body, I sat on top of him as he buckled under me.

“Well… are we giving each other nicknames, you murderous bastard?” I sang, pressing my knees to his sides, holding him in place. If I moved a little lower, I knew I’d feel him already hard for me. “Hush, you’ll wake the whole building up, and then your secrets will come out.”

“What the fuck are you…”

Pressing the knife to his throat, I looked down, my eyes clashing with green that had gone dark. They spoke of deranged wishes he harbored in his soul. “You brought this on yourself,” I said, smiling. “There goes your alibi, Ash.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’m not that desperate.” I am.

“You’re fucking insane,” he grunted, his voice strained, his jaw clenched.

“Says the psychopath who killed his therapist and a club owner.” I pressed the blade further into his throat, letting the sharp edge bite just enough to draw a thin line of blood. He hissed, and a thrill of satisfaction rippled through me.

I swiped my thumb across the blood and sucked it in. He groaned, soft and long, his body going limp underneath me, the fight leaving his body.

His lips parted, and I wanted to bend down… and take a sharp bite.

“Careful there, Sharma,” he growled, his voice laced with poison. “You’re playing a dangerous game, and you won’t win.”

I stared at my pink painted nails against the black hilt of the knife with a smile.“I never play a game I can’t win, Pussycat,” I murmured, leaning in closer, my breath hot against his skin. “Underestimating me is a mistake. You started this game, and… maybe I’ll end this.”

“You think you’ve got the upper hand, don’t you?”

“I know I’ve got the upper hand here, Maddox. You’re shackled to the bed, and I have a knife to your throat.” I raised an eyebrow, pressing the blade a fraction deeper, watching his smirk falter as another bead of blood surfaced. “And I’m going to cut you more. Does this not look like I have the upper hand?”

“Bitch.”

I leaned in, my lips hovering by his ear. “It was fun watching you try to keep up. I have met men more dangerous than you, Maddox, and I always win.”

“Go on, then,” he dared. “Cut me. Make me regret it.”

What the hell was he…

“Tempting,” I murmured. “If you want that so bad, I’ll give it to you until you beg for mercy.”

His eyes darkened. “You never know when to shut up.”

“Occupational hazard,” I said, tracing the blade along his jawline, feeling the thrum of his pulse beneath my touch. I got off of his stomach, taking a few steps back, and his smile turned lazy.

Irritating bastard. Even tied to the bed, he looked at me like he was somehow in control.

“Should I leave you like that? Shackled, helpless, fragile… easy enough for anyone to hurt you?”

“Don’t you fucking dare, Diya.”

I trembled, my body reacting to his hoarse voice, the way he said my name in a growl.

My body was a fucking illiterate, completely incapable of reading the reality of the situation.

“Stay put. Don’t try anything funny.” Bending down, I quickly unlocked the handcuffs. Of course, I should have expected the next move.

He grabbed me by the front of my coat, pulling me down over himself, and then flipped us until I was under him. His hard body came down on me, every bend and corner fitting snugly against mine.

“Now, I’m on top of you,” he said with a low chuckle, yanking my hand with the knife up above my head. “Should I kill you now?”

While my brain was plotting to get out of this madness, my pussy ignored every warning sign and just wanted to get impaled by this madman.

“You won’t. You’re here for a reason, and if you kill me now, you’ll never get to finish it.” I licked my lips, and his eyes went to them.

“Such pretty fucking lips, when you aren’t flapping them.”

Shaking his head, he tugged me by my hair and pulled me up until my face was so close to his. I could feel his hot breath on my skin and smell his darkness.

“Are you going to kiss me or kill me?”

“Fuuuck.” With a long groan, he pressed his lips to mine. The knife slipped from my fingers and fell to the floor with a clink.

I’m going to hell for this, but for now, it’s heaven.

His lips were harsh, wild. He was punishing me with every thrust of his tongue, and my body came alive with it. Raw and powerful, demanding compliance, ordering submission.

I wanted him with all his broken monsters. I wanted to go to the strangest, darkest places where light was only a dream or a nightmare.

Was it okay to desire a man with such an unquenchable need, with a passion that might singe me? No.

Did I want him to stop punishing me? NO.

“Fuck you,” he grumbled, flipping us once again until I was on top of him. I didn’t move even when he let me go. I pressed my ass against his erection, smiling when he let out a moan, followed by a curse.

The deranged look in his eyes pushed me further.

This game was twisted, and there was no right way to play it.

I was tempted to take it all the way.

It was dangerous, but I didn’t give a damn about any of that, not right now.

My lips crashed against his, tongue sneaking in until I was tasting every inch of him. He fought and then surrendered with an accepting growl. I bit until I tasted his blood, and became high from it.

He claimed my body, clawing, caressing, torturing.

His hands went to my ass, digging into my flesh. I shuddered as he let his fingers slide inside my waistband. “Where the fuck is your underwear, you mad woman?”

“You made quite a mess.”

“Like that’s the only underwear you own… fuck,” he groaned, his fingers massaging my ass cheeks. “So fucking soft.” His fingers crawled down, until they were rubbing against my pussy, slick and ready for him. “Already wet for me, aren’t you, Sharma? Does getting finger-fucked by your patient turn you on?”

“Fuck no,” I groaned. How long had I dreamed of this!?

“Fuck yes. Tell me the truth and then beg me. Looks like it’s your turn to beg.” His other hand cupped my breast, thumb pushing against my nipple.

Bastard.

My body was burning for more, and my brain was glitching, but even then, I knew I shouldn’t beg. That would give him all the power, and no man was worth it. Not even this gorgeous asshole, who was made to make a woman kneel in front of him.

Not me, though.

Grunting, I pushed away from him, shame and desire fighting with each other. I wanted to stay, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“Well, nobody is begging. Sleep tight and hard, Maddox,” I said, pointedly looking at his erection.

He sucked his fingers coated with my arousal, his eyes burning against mine.

It was so hard to maintain my dignity and not beg.

“Well, don’t sleep, because I’ll be coming for you when you least expect it, Sharma, and then…”

“You’ll steal my panties and catch your cum in them, Pussycat?” I asked. “You’re all bark and no fucking bite. Do you want me to teach you how to bite?” I asked, staring pointedly at his erect cock, and he growled like a rabid animal.

“When I come for you, you won’t be gloating.” His eyes turned wild, unhinged, and the darkness in them was beautiful. I heard it serenading me.

It drew me to him, rather than pushing me away.

Bending down, I bit his lower lip, hard. A long, satisfied growl left him when I pulled back.

“That’s how you bite, Maddox.”

He licked his lips, eyes half closed, a smile on his lips. This smile wasn’t cold or calculating. He looked rather harmless now.

“What’s your next move?” I asked.

“Why would I tell you that?”

“You’ll lose either way.”

“We will see, won’t we, Sharma?”

“Night, kitten.”

It didn’t matter he was aroused, it didn’t matter we kissed like we were stranded in a desert, and we held the water between our lips. No. When the time came, Asher wouldn’t hesitate to kill me.

I turned and left.

I was smiling when I reached my cottage.

I loved how good overpowering him made me feel. It had been a while since I enjoyed that rush of adrenaline, the echoes of desire.

Fighting him gave me the sense of exhilaration murder gave me once.

Being a reformed serial killer, trying to stay away from the limelight of law was fucking boring. I needed the hunt, the rush.

And now I have it.

When I crawled under the covers, I was already yawning. It was a rare day when I could sleep without my pills, without the nightmares clinging to my skin to come hunting, to come drag me back into their bottomless embrace.

And I had Asher to thank for that.