Page 4 of Hunted

The images have me squeezing the counter's edge in a white-knuckled grip. My cock is a steel rod grinding against the zipper of my jeans with each slight shift.

How am I supposed to look into those clear green eyes again as she obliviously puts her life into my calloused hands? When all I want is to ruin her—to destroy her in both body and spirit?

Morality has never been an issue; after all, I intended to hunt her like an animal. Kill her. And yet, this seems so much worse because what I want to do to her means it’s never over. She’ll be mine forever.

Zara has awakened a long-dormant devil inside me that I fear may be too powerful to contain.

Is bringing her here to my isolated lair a terrible, unforgivable mistake that will end in tragedy?

But as her soft footfalls sound behind me, I turn with a carefully veiled expression to find her swimming in my oversized shirt. And there’s no denying the truth in the pit of my stomach:

It’s already too late to turn back.

3

ZARA

The hot mug of coffee warms my chilled hands. I steal glances at Aksel across the rustic kitchen table. He hasn't said a word since grunting for me to take a seat when I shuffled back into the living area in his oversized shirt and joggers, which are swimming off my hips. He sits hunched over his steaming mug, alternating between staring broodingly into the inky liquid and shooting me brief looks that set my nerves jangling.

Aksel's body is slightly angled away from me. Still, I can't help noticing the taut lines of his shoulders outlining the contours of hard, knotted muscle beneath his snug thermal shirt. In the flickering glow from the fireplace, I can make out the stark, sinewy cords of his forearms disappearing beneath the shoved-up sleeves. Every part of him seems densely packed with power scarcely leashed beneath his granite exterior.

I have to resist the urge to squirm in my chair as my gaze involuntarily drops to the prominent bulge tenting his lap. Even when sitting, there's no disguising the distinctly male endowment evident in Aksel's loose sweatpants he changed into after I left his room. Heat steals across my cheeks and chest when I realize I'm staring.

Years of solitude in the isolated wilderness likely breeds a certain lack of inhibition. Aksel probably doesn't even realize how easily I can make out the thick outline and shape of his?—

"Is the coffee to your satisfaction, or were you hoping for something else to warm you up?"

Aksel's low, gravelly voice jerks me out of my thoughts. I look up, flustered, to find those glacial blue eyes drilling into me with dark intensity. My breath catches at the implication in his words and that I got caught staring at this guy's cock.

"N-no, the coffee is fine, thanks." I hastily drop my gaze down to my mug again, stirring the dark liquid with a spoon, having no other excuse to avoid his smoldering stare. "It's, um, it's been a long journey, so this really hits the spot."

For a stretch, the only sounds are the crackle of fire in the hearth and the insistent drumming of rain against the cabin windows. Then Aksel makes a low rumbling noise in his throat—between a dry chuckle and a grunt of sardonic acknowledgment. “And your journey has only just begun."

My cheeks burn hotter. Slowly, I risk lifting my gaze again to find my host openly regarding me. The way his eyes leisurely trail over every line and curve of my body makes me shudder—whether from discomfort or something more illicit, I can't tell.

Aksel doesn't try to mask his perusal like most men would. Instead, there's a confrontational quality to how he looks at me. In the heavy silence, it's as if he's staking an indisputable claim to having free rein over every inch of me.

My eyes reflexively drop once more to the unmistakable erection straining against his sweatpants. This time, his lips twist into a ghost of a knowing smirk before taking a slow, deliberate swig of coffee.

"It's been a long time since I've had a guest," he murmurs into his mug. "This cabin can get quite cold and lonely without company."

The statement causes my heart to lodge in my throat. My hands grip my mug tighter, and every nerve prickles with an unsettling awareness of being utterly alone with Aksel deep in this wilderness sanctuary of his. Isolated and cut off from the outside world, I am at his mercy entirely.

"Well, I certainly hope I won't be imposing too much," I reply, proud of how steady I keep my voice. "Once the weather clears, I'll need to head out to the areas mapped for data collection as soon as possible."

Aksel sets his mug down, eyeing me over the rim with a look that could cut glass. "This is my territory, Miss Driscoll. My rules. You'll go nowhere without my guidance and approval—and certainly not until the storms have passed completely." His nostrils flare as he holds my gaze in a silent battle of wills. "Is that understood?"

I give a jerky nod, unable to find my voice under the weight of that stare.

Rising from his seat, he circles around behind me. I feel rather than see his looming presence at my back as he leans close, braced against the table. The clean, earthy scent of him crashes over me in an overwhelming wave.

"This isn't a civilized place that follows society's rules, Miss Driscoll," Aksel rumbles, sending a shiver cracking down my spine. His heated breath brushes the sensitive skin at the back of my neck, raising goosebumps in its wake. "Out here in the harsh, uncivilized lands, only one rule matters—the strongest will survive."

Every muscle in my body has gone rigid. It's as if I can sense the predator baring its fangs and readying its jaws to devour me.

Aksel leans closer still. Thick, inescapable tension saturates the air. My heart thunders so violently in my ears that I almost miss the velvet growl of his next words:

“And I'm the apex predator here."

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