Page 11 of Jesse (Pecan Pines #6)

Aiden

Aiden stood in the middle of the fairground, the cheering crowd oblivious to the predator in their midst.

He hid a grin behind the rim of his coffee cup as the announcer called the name of the next truck moving forward in the competition.

“Brisket Delight!”

The crowd roared. Aiden’s eyes didn’t leave the stage, not because of the announcement, but because of the two figures embracing near the back of the crowd.

There he was. His prey. Beck.

The little chef looked flushed with excitement, his smile bright, pressed against the chest of that broad-shouldered wolf from Pecan Pines. Jesse, if Aiden remembered correctly.

The one who always looked protective around Beck.

Aiden’s fingers tightened around the cup. It cracked audibly in his grip, coffee leaking down his knuckles. He didn’t even notice until a drop hit the ground.

The Pecan Pines wolf. He was new. A recent complication.

His smile faded. That wolf was protective. Dangerous, maybe.

But Aiden had dealt with worse. When the time came and the Pecan Pines mutt got in the way, because they always got in the way, he’d handle him.

Just like he handled the others.

Still, Aiden’s gaze stayed locked on them. Beck was laughing now, rubbing a hand over his eyes like he couldn’t believe it.

Jesse leaned in to say something, their shoulders brushing. Too close. Too familiar. Aiden’s pulse ticked up.

His beast stirred under his skin. It wasn’t rage. Not exactly. It was hunger.

Hot, dark, and coiling around his ribs like smoke. It had been days since his last release. Since he’d given it something to chase, something to end.

The last one had barely satisfied the itch, and now, with Beck so close, his scent drifting faintly on the wind, the hunger was turning into something sharp.

Something desperate.

He wanted to take.

To tear.

To feel that warmth spilling across his hands again, sticky and red and right.

Aiden closed his eyes, forcing a long, slow breath through his nose.

No.

Not yet.

He wasn’t some mindless thing lashing out in the dark. He had rules. A system. He planned. Normally, he picked easy targets. Drifters, loners, people no one would miss.

He picked two, before moving onto the next town. He could satisfy the need that way, keep it fed just enough to maintain control.

But this?

Beck was different.

This kill was personal.

Aiden opened his eyes, watching Beck reach out and squeeze Jesse’s arm before they turned toward their truck again. Aiden shifted his stance, rolling his shoulders back.

He could feel the muscles in his neck bunching tight, the itch under his skin worsening with every second.

Patience. He needed to be patient.

He had waited before. Tracked targets for weeks, sometimes months, to make sure everything lined up just right. This wasn’t any different. Not really.

Except it was. Because his beast didn’t just want blood anymore. It wanted Beck.

It wanted to see his eyes widen in realization. His lips form his name in a choked whisper. It wanted to feel Beck’s heartbeat under his hand as it stopped.

Aiden swallowed hard. His jaw ached from clenching. He forced himself to look away, gaze sweeping the crowd instead.

People laughed and shouted, talked about their favorite trucks, posed for photos, clutched little plastic baskets of food.

So alive. So unaware.

He could end any of them in seconds. Slake the edge of this hunger. The beast would quiet, for a time.

But he didn’t want any of them. He wanted him.

Aiden slipped a hand into his worn wallet and carefully pulled out a photograph. It was creased, faded at the edges, the image nearly worn thin by the years.

Two boys smiled out from the picture. One a little taller, dark hair wild even then, grinning with reckless confidence

The other, smaller, thin arms around his brother’s waist, looking up at him with shining eyes. Himself.

Aiden traced a thumb over the image. The edge of his nail caught on one of the creases.

A life for a life.

The words pulsed in his head with a sick rhythm, in time with the pounding of his heart.

He swallowed again, forcing the photograph back into his wallet before the tremor in his hand betrayed him.

Aiden turned his attention back to Beck, who had just climbed into the truck, Jesse following behind him. The door closed, shutting them out of view.

That did nothing to soothe the fire under Aiden’s skin. He exhaled slowly, lips parted just enough to cool the heat rising in his throat.

Get it together.

There would be another opportunity. Another moment to strike. He couldn’t afford to slip up. Not now, not when the game was finally taking shape.

He’d let Beck have his little moment of triumph. Let him smile, let him laugh, let him believe, even for just a little longer, that he was safe.

But when the time came, and it would come, the wolf wouldn’t be enough to stop him.

Aiden turned away from the fairground, disappearing into the shadows like he’d never been there. The itch remained, crawling up his spine.

But the hunger?

That was thrumming.

Growing.

Waiting.