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FORD

I step onto the porch, my eyes darting around.

My pulse thunders in my ears, and when I look down, I see the veins popping up against the skin of my arms and hands.

I take another step, my ears straining for her sounds.

Ignoring the noise of the leaves rustling in the breeze, the cool night air licking my skin, and the hoot of an owl in the distance, I focus my attention solely on my little prey.

My hummingbird’s pulse is thrashing against her neck.

Her skin is probably slick with sweat as her bare feet pound against the earth, sliding over leaves, kicking them up into the air as she flees.

Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath, inhaling her fear.

It’s fucking heady as hell, coursing beneath my skin like a drug.

She’s the biggest dopamine hit.

An endless obsession I’ll never get enough of.

When I open my eyes, a slow, wicked smile spreads across my lips.

I swing the handcuffs, whistling as I step off the porch.

And then I take off, sprinting naked through the woods.

I track her scent like a hound dog as my feet silently skip over the soil, avoiding rocks and leaves that would let her know I’m right behind her.

I watch as she stumbles but regains her footing, taking off down the hill.

I’ve run these woods so many times while training for hockey that I know them like the back of my hand.

Which is why I let her go left at the fork in the path, while I go right.

It’ll give her a reprieve.

A chance to foolishly believe that she’s escaped me.

My hummingbird can fly, but she’ll never be free of me.

I own her.

She craves the way I care for her even as she fights for her independence.

Soon, she’ll realize I’m only making her life easier.

Better.

My little bird will learn to soar with my hands keeping her wings steady.

Adrenaline sours through me as I pump my legs faster.

It’s time to play. To let my hummingbird believe she has a chance before I snatch her from the sky.

Then I’ll take what I want from her.

Everything.