Page 52 of In Shadows We Dance

Click. The sound makes her flinch, but I don’t stop. Another photograph, then another. Each one freezes her in this moment. Each one makes her mine.

“You’re beautiful like this.” I twist her nipple, drawing a soft whimper from her. “On the edge of fear and desire. I can’t wait to see you completely undone.”

A tear falls down her cheek, and I catch it with my tongue. “Are you wet, Ileana? You’re grinding your pussy against my leg like you’re desperate. Do you want me to make you come?”

She shakes her head. I bite my way up her throat to her ear.

“Do you know what I see when I look at you? I see someone who’s been hiding for so long, she doesn’t even know how to stand in the light.”

Her tears spill over now, and I taste salt as my lips trace the line of her jaw. “But I’ll teach you. I’ll show you what it feels like to be truly seen. Truly claimed.”

She twists, her body writhing against mine, and I tighten my grip, pressing her harder against the wall. Her movements do nothing but fuel the heat coursing through me, every shift and struggle heightening the need to consume her completely.

“Why?” Her voice breaks. “Why won’t you leave me alone?”

I don’t answer at first, letting my hand drop lower, until I find the waistband of her pants. Her entire body tenses, and I savor the way she freezes, caught between defiance and fear.

“Because I can’t,” I say finally. “Because you’ve spent your life pretending to be invisible, and I’m here to strip that all away. To make you mine, piece by piece, until there’s nothing left but what I want.”

I take her mouth with mine in a kiss that’s all possession, all dominance, taking everything she doesn’t know how to refuse. When I pull away, her flushed face, her parted lips tells a story she doesn’t want me to see. She’s breathtaking like this, caught in the storm I’m creating, with no way out.

“You're mine. And no matter how much you fight it, no matter how far you run, I’ll keep coming for you.”

She doesn’t answer, but her eyes close. She’s fighting to stay still, to hold herself together, and it’s fucking intoxicating—watching her balance between fear and desire, unsure which direction to take.

It’s a dance, one she doesn’t know the steps to, but I do. And I intend to lead her until she has no choice but to surrender.

I drag my thumb over her bottom lip, my gaze locking onto her face. "You think you can keep running away, don't you? But I see you, my pretty Ballerina." My voice lowers, each word a promise wrapped in darkness. "And soon, you'll have nowhere left to hide."

Her eyes snap open, something fierce flickering in them—a spark that pleases and challenges me. She jerks back, the fight finally showing itself. For a moment, I let her believe she’s stronger, that she can break free.

I want to see her try. To feel that tension when she realizes how futile it is. But when she turns to run, I catch her wrist. Not enough to hurt, just enough to remind her. Enough for her to understand I’m not done, and the thrill of control surges through me.

“Where are you going?” My voice is low, taunting. My hand covers her breast again. “Are you going to run outside and let everyone see you like this?”

Her eyes dart to the side, searching for escape. We both know there isn’t one. Not from me. She pulls again, and this time, I let her go. The way she stumbles backward, hands shaking as she fixes her clothes … it’s perfect.

She thinks she’s won something. But really, all she’s done is step deeper into my game.

When she finally turns and flees, I don’t chase her.

Monty finds me in the hallway, just as I’m pulling up the camera store’s website. Top of the line SLRs. Multiple lenses for different lighting conditions. The price is irrelevant. What matters is the ability to capture everything. Every expression. Every tremor. Every reluctant step toward becoming mine.

“Holy shit. That’s a lot of zeros.”

“It’s necessary.” I don’t look up from my phone. “The quality needs to be perfect.”

“For what? More dancing photographs of your ghost?”

“For everything. Every moment. Every breath. Every second she thinks she’s alone.”

Monty stops, a hand on my arm. I glance up at him. He’s frowning at me. “You’re actually serious about this, aren’t you?”

“She’s different. And I’m going to capture every part of her until she realizes there’s nothing left to hide.”

The shipping confirmation comes through—express delivery, arriving tomorrow. I can already picture it: the lens focused, the shutter clicking, each frame capturing her struggle, her surrender, her everything.

My fingers twitch in anticipation. Tomorrow, the real hunt begins.

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