Sitting in her room tonight, waiting for her to come out of the shower, I had wondered if my hunting fantasy wasn’t meant to be lived out. I’d terrified Margot, and she’s worked for me for years. As much as I’ve learned about Claire from my observations, she doesn’t know me.

So I waited for her in the dark like a ghoul, thinking if she wouldn’t be able to handle this, I might as well find out now. I’d wanted to unnerve her, push the boundaries of the contract. Give her an obvious out if she was looking for one. See if she’d realized she didn’t want to do this after all. Better to find out in the house than in the woods. Some part of me thought she’d call it. That she’d walk out of the bathroom, see me waiting, and decide it wasn’t worth the money. But she didn’t.

Images of her in that moment fill my mind. When the towel hit the floor, my jaw followed it. I hadn’t known where to look first. Every inch of her was perfection. Thick thighs I need to put my face between. Wide hips I’m going to dig my fingers into while I take her from behind. Dusky nipples I want to tease with my tongue. She’s somehow solid and soft, substantial in a way that makes me want to sink my teeth into her. Something in her eyes makes me wonder if she might bite back, and god, I want that.

Summon her.

As soon as the thought arrives, I dismiss it. It’s too early. I want a challenge. A true hunt, not her shuffling through the woods half asleep. I’ll be leaving for work later than usual, so I can wait for her to eat breakfast. Make sure she’s in peak condition to run. To fight.

My hand moves to my cock as I remember the rebellious look in her eyes when she ran back into the bathroom. Her ass, that underwear. My cock throbs harder. My grip tightens. Dragging my palm across my tip, I spread arousal down my length. I pretend it’s Claire’s wetness slicking my shaft, not my own. She’d been drenched. I’d almost lost control, taken her right there on the lawn. When I went to her room, I thought, worst-case scenario, she’d leave; best-case scenario, she’d tell me to get out, to summon her per the contract terms. Then she ran.

Claire ran.

I shouldn’t be so surprised. It’s what she’s here to do. But the game hadn’t even started yet, and she was ready to play—and she liked it. I hear her voice in my head, desperate yet defiant: I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.

My cock jerks at the memory. I stroke myself faster, hips bucking into my hand. I should be driving into her, relishing the way her body writhes and thrashes beneath me.

The thought of her eager cunt convulsing around my fingers as she still fought me tooth and nail makes my balls tighten. Pressure in my cock builds to an almost unbearable level. I could have flipped her over. Fucked her into the ground until grass stains marked her skin and dirt matted her pretty brown hair. Sunk my teeth into her neck and left a mark for her to remember me by when I’m done with her.

It’s the idea of her skin marred by my teeth—my claim visible for everyone to see—that makes me lose control. The bed rocks, squeaking the slightest bit as I thrust one last time and explode into my fist, cum coating my hand and smearing across the top sheet.

Fuck.

I needed that.

Rolling out of bed, I strip the sheet, using it to wipe off. After tossing it in the hamper, I climb back into bed. Tugging up the duvet, I’m relieved when the material feels comforting, not oppressive. Need no longer has me desperate to crawl out of my skin. I think I might be able to wait until after breakfast to summon her. My last thought before drifting off is of how I’m going to bury my face in her cunt when I catch her. The taste I had earlier wasn’t nearly enough.

FIVE Claire

I don’t want to risk being caught unprepared for summoning, so I’m up at dawn. My stomach feels like it’s hosting a butterfly rave, but I force myself to eat anyway. I need to be well fueled.

It’s day two, and today’s the day. I can feel it in my bones. It has to be. I need it to be. I’m starving for more. My blue mood didn’t stick last night. Even thinking of Keith couldn’t completely douse the fire Shane started on the lawn. I had finally given in and masturbated myself to sleep, but it felt like eating a granola bar in a steak house. I need something filling. I need to be run down and fucked until my teeth chatter.

Breakfast passes without a beep from my watch. I meet a woman named Gretchen. She’s Shane’s housekeeper and has short white hair with hot pink tips. She’s privy to the fact that this is a predator-prey situation and seems thoroughly unbothered. Within the first ten minutes of our chat, she tells me she’s outlived four husbands. I like her immensely. There’s no sign of Margot.

I’m amusing myself in the gym, fiddling around on a StairMaster so fancy I wouldn’t be surprised if it doubles as an espresso maker. My wrist vibrates. The watch flashes a seven, an insistent chirp accompanying the number. I almost fall off the machine.

Seven minutes till Shane starts hunting me. Seven minutes to get what I need and run.

Flying out of the gym, I almost collide with Margot in the hall. She opens her mouth to say something, but I yelp as I dash by her.

“Summoned!”

“Make him work for it,” she calls after me. “And be careful. Remember the safe word!”

Three minutes later, I’m running toward the woods. When I woke this morning, I dressed for the hunt: black leggings, a camouflage long-sleeve T-shirt provided by Shane, and my sneakers. All I had to do was douse myself in bug spray and grab the small backpack holding a water bottle, a few protein bars, and a flashlight. I braided my hair and pinned it into a bun at the base of my neck. I realized he could have grabbed it last night, so I’m not taking any chances with a ponytail today.

Overprepared? Probably.

Unsexy? Definitely.

A challenge? Hell yeah.

The woods surrounding his house are thick and lush. Trees feel like accomplices as I dart between them. Right now, my focus is distance. My watch buzzes again, and I see a zero, which means he’s on his way.

Faster.

I have enough of a lead that I can be loud, but in a minute or two, I’ll need to move silently. Every branch break and rustle will draw him to me. Noisy prey is not challenging prey.

When I’m too tired to keep running, I look for a hiding place. A tall pine pulls my attention. Objectively, it’s a good-looking tree, as far as trees go. Thick trunk, dense branches. What makes it perfect is that it doesn’t have any limbs I can reach from the ground. Shane won’t expect me to be in it. However, this big, perfect tree does have a neighbor with lower branches. They’re close enough that I can scurry from the small tree to the bigger one.

I can’t lead him to my hiding spot, though. I walk past the tree about a hundred yards, then double back, sweeping away any signs of travel with a fallen branch. Once I reach the small tree, I start climbing.

For twenty-six tense minutes, I perch on a high branch, waiting for a sign he’s close. The forest is quiet. There’s birdsong off and on and a few judgmental squirrels, but no Shane. I wonder what he’s thinking right now. Keith was repulsed the one time I broached the idea of me hunting him, so I don’t know what it’s like to be on the other side of the hunt. What it feels like to have that type of power, knowing someone’s out there running from you. It must be a different kind of anticipation than what’s tremoring through me, keeping me so tense it’s hard to stay still.