Prey Drive by Jen Stevens
Chapter 20
the wolf
last night with Stardust.
And yet, I walked away feeling like we didn't go far enough. It seems like every time I make a move to bring whatever I feel for her to an end, I just crave more.
Just watchingturned into just touching turned into just tasting, and now that I've done all that, I want to consume her. I want all of her in every way I can get it. I showed her my fucking face, for God's sake.
The look in her eyes when I was finished with her was clearly one of longing. She wanted to go further, and I couldn't allow that to happen. At least, not yet. I wanted to taste her, and I did. So I put her back into the bathtub and walked away before we did anything we might end up regretting.
I keep telling myself that I did it for her. That it's out of respect for her emotions, her privacy, her boundaries. It might be time to admit it's more for me than anything. Because I know that the second I give in to this monster and let him in, it'll overrun me. I told her she should be afraid of me, but if I'm being completely honest with myself, the way I feel about her terrifies me.
I've already crossed so many lines. None of this was ever supposed to get this far. I shouldn’t still be in Styx. I shouldn’t be buying property here. I definitely shouldn’t still be killing people here.
The worst part is that I'm so fucked up that I'm enjoying it. Every last, damning part of it.
Stardust’s life is chaotic and restless. It's an infuriatingly mundane pattern of work, sleep, eat, repeat.
Over and over and over again.
I hate following her around to each odd job she has, watching her serve people who don’t deserve it. It’s like looking through a window at a completely different world—one I’ve admittedly avoided eye contact with for as long as I can remember. The housekeepers and cooks were just background noise in our household. Busy bees that buzzed around us and made sure everything was exactly how we liked it.
I realize now that the only difference between me and them is the number in my bank account. The blood running through my veins is somehow considered more valuable to the world than that of the people who have always worked below us and made it possible for us to live these ridiculously lavish lives. Where their life always seemed so drab and lacking any real sustenance, I find myself on the opposite end of the societal spectrum. My gluttonous, rich peers get to enjoy life too much. It’s disgusting and unjust. A thinly veiled illusion to make you think they're living better than the people they employ, when in reality, it's the rich who lack any true value or emotions. And now, I have to sit helplessly and watch my obsession churn around like another cog in the machine.
Or do I?
I’m still working through the thought as I click on Eliza’s photo in my phone, and it begins ringing. She answers on the third ring.
“It’s after hours, asshole. I’m off the clock,” she greets in her grainy voice, heavy from all the smoking she’s done throughout the years.
“I have someone I want to offer a job to,” I say into the line, knowing she’s already opening her computer to help me. We don't ever bother with pleasantries, and I prefer it to stay that way.
“Okay…” she drawls, keypad clicking in the background. “Who? What job?”
“I don’t know yet,” I admit, realizing I haven't thought this through. What if Stardust reports me for stalking like she wants to, and Eliza gets dragged down with me?
Fuck. She wouldn’t. I have to believe that after what we experienced last night, she wouldn’t do that.
“Are you fucking with me?” Eliza asks with an edge of impatience, and I don’t even have to be there to know she’s wearing her signature pissed-off look that makes all our new employees quit within the hour of seeing it.
“No, Eliza. I’m not fucking with you,” I mutter condescendingly. “I need you to look into any open remote position we have. If there isn’t anything, make one up.”
Perhaps it would be better to offer her a job in the office. Get her to move out to New York, so I can really keep an eye on her.
No. She’d never go for it.
Baby steps.
“What kind of qualifications does this person have? Do you have a resume?”
“No, I don’t, but it doesn’t matter. Just find something.”
Eliza huffs an irritated breath into the line. “I’ll see what I can do.”
She doesn’t bother closing off the conversation before the line goes dead, and I know I’m going to get my ass chewed out when I go into the office. I don’t care, though. It’s worth it to pin Stardust into one spot so I don’t have to drive all over this shitty ass town to keep track of her.