Prey Drive by Jen Stevens
Chapter 35
the lamb
since I’ve accepted my formal offer from Lancaster Tech. I’ve finished my last scheduled shifts at the bar, resigned with Mrs. Botless, and have only three more shifts with Rosie at Old Soul.
Everyone has been supportive of my new endeavor, even when they found out I’d have a stint alone in New York to go through training at the corporate office before they let me work on my own. If I’m being honest, I was hoping for more resistance. More people to tell me that this is a mistake, and working for the man who actively stalks me is a bad idea.
I suppose they’d have to be made aware about that part, though. I know that Halen would chain me up in her basement if she found out about Bash and all the things he’s done since I’ve moved in. But I’m not quite ready to sully my one shot at a normal life.
Thus begins the vicious cycle I’ve been stuck in since accepting the job.
Bash has made no attempt at hiding his smugness on the matter. He pities me on a level that borders on pure shame. In the late nights I’ve found myself wide awake and thinking about it, I can’t help but wonder if he’s doing all of this because he genuinely cares, or if he’s taken me on as some kind of charity case he refuses to bring around his social circle until I make myself more respectable.
Although, there’s nothing less acceptable than hunting and stalking the woman you want to date.
And if his friends are so judgmental of those who live below them, do I really want to be around them in the first place?
Who said we’re dating, anyway?
Calm your tits, Jovie. It’s all hypothetical.
Unfortunately, Bash is here to witness my downward spiral this time around. He’s staring at me in the same way Halen used to do when I first got out of Sunnybrook—like he’s debating if he needs to hide all the sharp objects.
He’s come back to Styx for the weekend, even using the front door to enter the cottage when he got here. It’s a strange change of pace, and one I’m not quite sure how I feel about just yet. There’s something significant about the way we got here. I’m struggling to adjust to losing it, no matter how deranged and unconventional it was.
He turns to face me in my bed, careful not to allow any part of our bodies to intersect. His hands rest beneath his cheek, against the pillow, while those odd green eyes gaze at me. Into me.
“Tell me to leave,” he urges in a calm, desperate whisper, taking me completely off guard.
“Why?” I whisper back voicelessly.
There're a million reasons why he should walk out that door. Every societal rule goes against what's happening between us right now. Every survival instinct screams within me to run.
To call the police. To get away from this man who has clearly formed an unhealthy obsession with me.
I know all my own reasons for telling him to leave. But I want to hear his.
He doesn't give them to me, though. Nothing with him is ever as straightforward as I hope for it to be.
“Your eyes change colors in the daylight,” he begins instead. “Right now, they're the sweetest honey brown. But at night, they turn dark and decadent, like the richest chocolate I've ever tasted.”
A small smile pulls at my lips, and despite my attempt to hide the shyness I'm feeling at him noticing such a small detail about me, I know my blushing cheeks are giving me away. No one bothers to take in the little things anymore, always in too much of a rush to get to the next best part to enjoy exactly where they are. I doubt Gabe could even guess my eye color, and we dated for years.
“When it comes to you, I can't resist. I want to know everything.” He snakes his arm across the sheet, invading the space between us before his long fingers intersect with mine, turning my hand this way and that in the light.
“I'm hungry for the most menial details, and I'm willing to get them no matter the cost.”
I'm realizing this is a new side to him that he's sharing. Another one to add to the growing catalog I'm trying to keep track of in my head. None of them seem to connect—each one is more vastly different than the rest.
Who is this man—truly and wholly—at his core? I don't think any version I've seen fully answers that burning question. The one that keeps insisting I allow him to come back. There's so much more to him than what he projects to the outside world.
Maybe I'm guilty of the same crimes he's admitting to.
“There's nothing wrong with wanting to get to know someone,” I rationalize, ignoring the small part where he's stalked and hunted me to do so.
There's definitely room for improvement in his methods.
“That's the problem. For you, I'll never tire. I'll never stop feeding on each and every scrap you give me. I want to devour you. Own you. And I'm afraid that by the time I've had my fill, there won't be anything left of you.”
Own you.
Those two words dance around my head, sending my heart into a fluttering mess of butterfly wings. They should be repulsing me, but instead I melt into a puddle at his feet.
“I'm stronger than you think,” I assure him.
“I know. I'm addicted to your strength. But everyone has a breaking point, and finding yours has become a game to me.”
He releases my hand and moves to cup my jaw, his thumb lightly grazing against my bottom lip in lazy circles.
“So tell me to leave. Tell me to stop. Chase me away. I swear to fucking God, Stardust, do something other than stare at me with that look in your eyes like you aren't even afraid. You have no idea what I'm capable of—what I've already done.”
Shaking my head, I tug my lip between my teeth, away from his touch. And I hate myself, because I can't do it. I can't tell my stalker to go away, no matter how much he begs me.
No matter how much every fiber of my being screams against it.
No matter how many times my mind slams its fists against the walls my heart has built around it, silencing it.
I want this man in ways I know aren't any good for me. But where has doing what's good gotten me?
“I can handle it,” I insist again stubbornly.
Whoever he is, whatever he's done, I don't care. It doesn't change how I feel.
“You have no idea what you're doing,” he warns, though his voice sounds more depraved than angry.
“Maybe I'm not as good of a person as you think. Maybe we're two people cut from the same cloth.”
Scoffing, he rolls his eyes away from me. “I doubt that.”
“I don't.”
He falls silent for a beat—long enough for me to think that maybe I've won this argument. Although, I'm not sure that's a worthy brag. It may have been smarter to listen to his pleas and heed his warnings. To accept his vague admissions as enough of a sign to turn the other way.
“What were you thinking that first night you saw me staring at you through the window?” He asks, a curious lilt to his tone.
The desperation from before has seeped out, allowing his usual smugness to take its place. He's accepted my answer—he knows I won't run from him, regardless of how much he begs. Though, judging by the new twinkle in his eyes, I think the time for begging is over. That door has closed. But I don't know what he's getting at with his new line of questioning.
I think back to that night. The terror I felt at being watched floods my stomach again, coating it like thick tar.
“I was afraid,” I admit in a low, heavy voice.
“You didn't seem afraid. In fact, you stared right back at me,” he points out, lips upturned in prideful wonder as he recalls that night from his own perspective. “It took me completely off guard.”
“I wasn't sure if you were real.”
Tilting his head, he clicks his tongue doubtfully. “That's not true though, is it?” Leaning forward to erase what's left of the space between us, his forehead brushes against mine as he rests his head on my pillow beside me. “You knew I was real. You felt something that night. Something that electrified your bones and set fire to your soul.”
“What are you getting at?”
“I think you refuse to run because you've become addicted to that rush, same as me. You got a taste that night, and nothing—not even your own personal safety—can get in the way of your indulgence.”
Strong fingers skirt up my arm, dancing across the tender, sensitive skin as goosebumps follow in their wake until they reach my shoulder, and then they wrap around my jaw to tilt my head so our lips are perfectly aligned. So close, his breath tickles my lips as he goes on.
“I feel it too, Stardust. Every fiber of my being is clawing to give in—to take the dive. And I want to… so fucking badly. But I haven't yet because I can't freefall into this feeling, only to turn back and find that you didn't take the leap with me.”
His grip tightens against my jawbone, almost painfully as he rolls his forehead against mine, eyes closed. “This is your only chance to run. The only time I can guarantee I won't chase you, or burn the world down behind you. I can't tell you everything, but I can admit that I've done terrible things. Things that will damn me to an eternity in Hell. So, if you have any doubts about me, you need to run. Now.”
His eyes pop open, revealing an odd, steely-green color I've never seen before.
“Otherwise, I'm grabbing your hand in mine, and we're making the jump together. We're burning together.”
My gaze slowly rakes over his features as his words roll around inside my head, digging their way directly into my subconscious.
He thinks this is a choice, but that isn't true at all.
I was terrified when I found him in my yard, though I've realized it's not only because he was watching me. There was something else present with us that night—something that called to each of us, forcing our attention onto one another. Insisting that our gazes collided at that exact moment. The darkness he claims is inside of him resides in me also, and now that it has found its match, there's no way it's letting go.
Bash stares back at me patiently, allowing me all the time I need to process this. But I don't need any more time. The decision has been made—it continues to be made for me.
“If you burn, I burn,” I softly say.
His lips are on mine in an instant, accepting my answer and leaving no room for me to reconsider. Shifting his weight on top of me, he nudges my legs open and settles between them, hands brushing against my skin in various places faster than I can even comprehend. Our clothes disappear in a flurry of movements as our mouths move across each other’s skin, like it’s our last meal and we’re both famished.
This feels different than any other time we’ve been like this. He’s different. Before, he was viciously staking his claim on me, whether I agreed or not.
Now, it’s deeper than that. He’s melding with me, sinking into my body until we become one and the darkness inside of us fuses together into one black cloud. Our souls are connecting above our bodies and dancing together as our skin slips and slides against one another. And when we meet our climaxes, it’s like the entire world shakes and tilts on its axis. He falls into me and permanently fills the void that’s been present in my life for as long as I can remember.
Nothing will ever be the same again, and I couldn’t be more delighted.