Page 111 of Mine To Hunt

A faint, almost amused sound escapes him. "You think I need your cameras to see you?"

The implication hits deeper than I expect. My skin prickles with the sudden awareness that he has been closer than I ever realized.

I step forward until I’m right in front of him. I can feel the heat radiating from his body now, steady and solid. There’s a faint scent about him, clean, masculine, strangely familiar, and the recognition unsettles me more than the mask does.

"You scare me." I admit quietly.

He leans in just slightly. "Good. You should be."

I force myself not to look away. "But if you're so terrifying, why haven't you hurt me?"

"Don't confuse restraint with weakness." His answer is immediate. Sharp.

I study him for a long moment, searching for any crack in his composure. "What stopped you? What made you hold back?"

A subtle shift passes through him, almost imperceptible. "You became interesting to me. More than just a target."

Target. The word hangs between us, heavy and cold. My heart beats harder, but I keep pushing. "Then tell me something real."

I take another breath. "What’s your name?"

The question feels dangerous the moment I ask it. It feels intimate. Too intimate. He doesn’t respond right away. The mask hides his expression, but I can feel his attention sharpen.

"You don’t get that." He says finally.

"It’s just a name."

"No." He replies calmly. "It isn’t."

I hold his gaze. "So what do I call you?"

Another pause. And then, "You don’t."

The refusal is simple. Final.

A strange frustration mixes with fear inside me. He knows my name. But I get nothing?

"What happens now?" I ask instead, my voice softer.

He doesn’t answer with words. Instead, he takes a slow step forward.

Instinctively, I step back. Then another. We move like that together, his steps measured, mine retreating, until the room starts to feel smaller with every inch between us.

My legs hit the edge of the bed before I notice. I lose my balance and drop onto it, sitting at the very edge with him standing close, close enough that I can feel the warmth of him without contact.

He reaches past me and picks up my phone from the bed. With a few precise taps, the security cameras go dark. The blinking red lights disappear one by one.

A cold wave rolls through me. How does he know my password? The thought races through my mind, sharp and terrifying. If he does anything now, no one will see it.

He sets the phone aside carefully, like it no longer matters. Then his hand rises and grips my chin, firm and controlled, tilting my head back so I have no choice but to look up at him.

"Eyes on me, Little Prey." He says quietly.

Before I can speak again, he pulls something from his pocket. My scarf. The sight of it steals the air from my lungs.

"How do you…"

"Don't talk."