Page 53 of Stalked
A warmth spreads through me as memories from New York surface—the sensation of rope against skin, the beautiful vulnerability of being bound. My fingers brush against a deep green rope, and I can't help wondering if Vane selected this one specifically.
The further I explore, the more my excitement builds. Each room reveals new possibilities, each implement promises different sensations. My skin feels hypersensitive, anticipating touch.
In a room filled with sensory deprivation equipment, I pause before a shelf of blindfolds and noise-canceling headphones. The thought of being caught—of surrendering control after fighting so hard to maintain it—sends a delicious shiver down my spine.
This isn't just a head start. It's foreplay.
22
VANE
Ilean back in my chair, eyes fixed on the bank of monitors displaying every angle of the maze. Each screen shows a different woman, but I'm only interested in one.
Lia.
While the others scatter like frightened rabbits through the corridors, she moves with purpose, with fucking confidence. My fingers tighten around the armrest as I watch her trail her hand along the Saint Andrew's cross, inspecting it like she's considering buying the damn thing.
“Fuck,” I mutter, leaning closer to the screen.
She's not even trying to hide. Not trying to run. The others are huddled in corners or sprinting blindly through passages, but Lia? She's touring the place like it's an open house.
I watch as she enters the fire play room, examining the implements with critical interest. There's appreciation in her eyes as she touches a container of specialty wax. My cock stiffens painfully against my zipper. The Hunt was designed to create fear, to give the hunters the thrill of pursuit, but she's turned it into something else entirely.
When she reaches the rope room, she actually smiles. Her fingers linger on a coil of green hemp—the one I personally selected, imagining how it would look against her skin. Of course, she'd notice that one.
“Is she even taking this seriously?” Knox asks, appearing behind me.
I don't take my eyes off the screen. “Oh, she is. Just not how I expected.”
The other hunters are all in the control room now, wearing their masks. They're eager for the chase. But I know better—this won't be a chase at all.
Not with Lia.
She pauses in the sensory deprivation room, running her fingers over a black silk blindfold. The hungry look in her eyes makes my breath catch. She's not prey tonight—she's a fucking predator herself, hunting for sensation, for the experiences she loves.
The digital clock on the wall flashes red: sixty seconds remaining.
Around me, hunters adjust their masks and check their equipment. The Dexter twins hover near the door, practically salivating as they stare at Sadie's monitor. Landon stands rigid, his white mask betraying nothing, but I recognize the tension in his shoulders.
I roll my neck, loosening muscles that don't need loosening. Unlike these other fuckers, I'm not anxious. I know exactly where I'm headed.
“Gentlemen,” Xavier calls, drawing everyone's attention to him. “The Hunt has officially begun. Your prey awaits in the maze. You have seventy-two hours. May the best hunters claim their prize.”
The doors slide open to the maze, and to my surprise, Landon doesn't hesitate—he bolts through the entrance beforeanyone else moves. The Dexter twins follow immediately, shoving each other in their haste.
I don't rush. I watch as the others scatter like desperate hounds after rabbits.
Rolling my shoulders, I step through the doorway at my own pace. My lips curl into a smile behind my mask. Fifteen years I've waited—what's another few minutes? Besides, I've had cameras on Lia for weeks.
Let these other fuckers exhaust themselves running. I stride down the center corridor, my boots clicking against the floor. Every step is measured, controlled.
Lia isn't running. She isn't hiding. She's exploring—waiting.
For me.
I stalk through the corridors of the maze, my pulse steady despite the anticipation coursing through my veins. Unlike the other hunters rushing frantically in all directions, I move with purpose.
I follow the same path I watched Lia take on the monitors during their head start. Her precise route is etched in my mind as I make my way toward the rope room.
