13. Draven

P art of me doubts the wisdom of giving her even a few minutes without me on her tail. She's drawing an unusual amount of attention from the other Hunters, which is completely out of character for them.

Po might be the only one for whom this behavior seems typical. He has always had a sour spot for me, and I get it, if I were him, I'd also be jealous of Death itself.

As I step out of what has become my favorite room in this Hellish carnival, I navigate the maze-like walls with practiced ease, heading toward the door I know my Little Sheep used to exit the Voodoo house.

I need to focus, but just thinking about her on her knees, crawling to me, that tongue with the piercing nearly made me lose my restraint not to tear out my cock and thrust her head down onto it. She's damn good with it, and to find her enjoying the way she tastes on me… fuck me , I'm already addicted to my prey.

Her hands are soft, but I can tell they wouldn't hesitate to be deadly given the means to be. It makes me wonder if they have killed, and if not, would she be opposed to it? There is nothing more beautiful than a powerful woman. Imagining a gun in her hand, or even a knife, standing over her kill watching them bleed out—fuck my dick does not want to be restrained. Witnessing her snuffing out a worthless soul from this world would easily make me come harder than my fist ever could.

Lost in a daydream of Max placing my knife over my chest, riding my cock, contemplating whether to end me or keep me around to please her, I collide with an unseen obstacle. It sends it crashing to the ground just as I'm about to emerge from the narrow gap between the walls.

I gaze down and see a girl, who I recognize immediately, halfway out of the space, tears streaming down her cheeks. These aren't from the fall—her puffy eyes and permanently flushed face tell a different story.

"I need you to move," I command.

Her light eyes, I can't gather if blue or brown in this lighting, shake as she stares at me. The hesitation irritates me, so I kick at her foot. "Go." That seems to pull her from the paralysis she's put herself into, and she scrambles out of the tight space.

What surprises me most is she doesn't immediately run as I come fully into view. She isn't my prey, and I could care less about her unfortunate circumstance, so I walk around her. It isn't until she grabs hold of my wrist that I halt.

"Brave," my voice lowers, just to emphasis her mistake.

"Please wait," she mumbles, her other hand comes up and grabs tightly onto my forearm. Her entire body is vibrating with fear. "I think… I think he is trying to kill me. My fiancé."

My eyebrows pull together, but not out of concern. I'm wondering why she thinks I care.

"I don't know what to do—"

"Go to the ticket booth," I say, releasing my grip on her before heading toward the door that will be my exit. Hearing her hurried footsteps, I grumble and turn my head to watch her quickly move to block my path.

"Please, one of his friends is standing there, waiting for me. I'll pay you whatever you want, anything, I know you can protect me."

I understand why some assume our motivations revolve around money. Indeed, on prosperous weekends, our earnings could soar into the millions, particularly when handling ‘special' requests like the one pertaining to the demise of this woman, the fiancée to the Governor's son. While the financial aspect is appealing, it's not my driving force. Regrettably for her, her safety is of little concern to me.

While she looks innocent, I can see the needle marks at the points of her arms that would give her the most high. The bruises between the pad of her hand where gripping a pistol for too long would cause. The gang tattoo that is peeking out from under her shirt as it strains to stay lower than her belly button.

"That is not what I want." I place my hand onto her face and shove her aside.

"Sex?! Do you want me to suck your cock!? I'll do anything, please—"

Something strikes me in that moment, though I'm not sure why. Where is her fiancé? Could he be with Po? I can't imagine that guy being anything but a pussy-lover, so I'm doubtful he just slipped away with Po for a fuck.

She must take my silence as that being what I want because she puts her hand right over my cock. "I promise to take it all."

I feel the snap of her wrist as I grab it, and she lets out a loud, deafening scream. There was no hesitation for me to grab tighter and thrust her in front of me. The tears she once shed out of terror for her fiancé now stream down her cheeks in fear of me .

I snarl, "Do not touch what is not yours." Her sob cracks in her throat as she nods, not pulling on her arm out of fear of completely separating her wrist.

I've not felt my heartbeat faster in a long time, but as I strain to listen to anyone coming to run toward her, I curse under my breath. Po could be with the Governor's boy, but I just have this sneaky suspicion he isn't.

My gaze trains back down to the girl. "What is your name?"

"S-Samantha…" she whimpers.

"Samantha," I release her wrist and put my hand behind her neck, grabbing hold of her brunette hair and tearing her head back. "Your hunter is pissing me off." Her eyes round, fear radiating through her pours, smelling of anxiety—a mixture of salt and aged bread. "So, I'm going to fuck with his prey. You need to listen to me, and if you do, you may just survive this weekend."

As if confirming her biggest fear, her lips tremble, but she nods.

"Pot-Belly is your hunter, tasked to kill you." Her eyes gloss over. "The carousel is your friend, ride the horses if you see your hunter, ride the tigers if you have fear of your group, and the elephant if you are in immediate danger. Nod if you understand."

She nods.

"If you cannot get to the carousel, I suggest the Haunted Manor, and tell the attendee ‘I love the bed of roses'. Do you understand?"

She nods again.

"Do not run to me for help." My tone is not a request. "Pot-Belly may be openly foolish, but I'm not. Keep my help a secret, or I'll kill you myself. Comprendre? "

After that final nod, I toss her aside and charge through the exit. Honestly, I was ready to start searching for Max, because there was no reason she should be just twenty feet away from the attraction she fled from ten minutes—if not longer—ago.

How hard is it to just do as I command? One fucking word to follow, run. Such a hard head, but Satan himself, that cunt is sweet. I'll take it over letting her go.

" Petit mouton, " I shout, and I see her jump in response. "I said run, not wait for your hunter!" My voice is a commanding force that sounds as though I'm interrogating a terrorist before I begin to waterboard them. "If I catch you…" My stride is long, and I likely could reach her in five steps, but she's sharp enough to catch the glint in my eye. She turns and starts charging away. "Good, prey."

I'm prepared to begin stalking after her when my gaze fixes intently on the ground. The disturbed dirt isn't what makes my eye twitch, there is evidence enough of two—no, three—sets of feet that were here. The settled heel marks from a smaller set, along with a much larger one, form a growl in my throat. My hands ball into a fist, and my gaze shifts back to my Little Sheep disappearing into the crowd .

Patience… Don't be rash… I tell myself. She seems fine, I mean, she is glowing but that isn't a surprise given my tongue was glued to her cunt not too long ago. Still, there was a reason she was standing here, and I know I'm going to be pissed off when I find out exactly why.

I only planned to go to her accommodations tonight to watch her, maybe tap her window and scare the fuck out of her. However, my needs are far more destructive. That cunt, I'm ready to fill it anywhere I can. Her bed, the House of Mirrors, the fucking woods—I don't care.

Additionally to stamping a permanent memory of my cock inside of her, I need to confirm that Po wasn't here, or any of the Hunters for that matter.

What I did seven years ago will be nothing in comparison to what I'll bring down on them. I merely have one simple request: do not fuck with what is mine. They will be reminded of their place, as will my Little Sheep. She's mine to hunt. Mine . How fucking difficult is that to understand?