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“Aw, Luca.” She leans forward on her elbow, sticking her face right up to mine. I catch the same fragrance as the night she cut me—black orchids and vetiver—and something sweeton her breath—maraschino cherries or almonds. “You worried about me? You’re feeling something strange ticking in all that clockwork machinery inside your chest?”
Moving back would be a sign of weakness, so I stay exactly where I am, face-to-face with her poison eyes and blood-red mouth.
“There’s no fun in catching a lame beast,” I tell her softly.
“Oh, I’ll make it fun for you.” She reaches between us, takes my collar in her hand, and curls her fingers, pulling me closer, until I can almost feel her lips on mine, taste cherries and almonds. Are her lips drugged this time? “I’ll make it so fun, Luca. You’ll be like a kid in a toy shop at Christmas. I’ll make all your creepy little dreams come true.”
I’m starting to sense that Willow’s mortal flaw lies in her overconfidence.
The same overconfidence that pushed her to slice me up and challenge me to hunt her down, the same overconfidence that made her refuse to ask for painkillers for her injury or take a day off from a job where she’s been standing for hours on end on her mangled leg.
This misplaced overconfidence is going to be the architect of her downfall. I’ll merely be its humble contractor.
“Tomorrow, then.”
The words slip from my mouth, brush against hers. I don’t usually make my decisions so impulsively. That’s why I like to pause before speaking, to make sure my words are calculated.
But Willow’s pride is too tempting an insect to crush; I didn’t think twice before stomping my boot.
“Has anyone told you you’re a real piece of shit?” she asks me sweetly.
“Is that why you fancy me, Willow?” I ask her just as sweetly. “Because I’m a piece of shit?”
She laughs out loud, throwing her head back. “We both know there’s not a woman on earth who’s ever fancied you. You’re a cold-blooded snake, and even people wholikesnakes don’t wanna fuck them.”
I make the decision there and then to fuck Willow Lynch.
It doesn’t have to be tonight; it doesn’t even have to be tomorrow. But it’s going to happen, and I’m going to enjoy it. I hope she hates every second of it, I hope she fights me even as I rip orgasms out of her, and when she comes, I hope she comes cursing my name.
“Tomorrow morning, Lynch. If I catch you, I’m going to make you regret being born.”
“Joke’s on you, Luca.” She straightens herself with a crooked smile. “I already do.”
15
Unknown Factor
Luca
For the second morningin a row, I wake up with a start.
My skin is cold and clammy; my head swims. I sit up, catching my breath, and reach for the glass of water on my bedside.
I drink slowly, slowing my breath, holding it, releasing slowly. If I was having a nightmare, I don’t remember. My mind is blank and dark; it takes me a moment to order my thoughts. I turn the lights on, check the time. Three minutes before five. I woke up before my alarm clock. I never do that.
Doubtless, the thrill of the hunt is throwing me out of loop. This is something new in my life, not just in terms of my routine, but because for the first time in a long time, my control of the situation is imperfect.
Yes, the hunt is happening undermyterms, atmyrequest, onmyturf.Ichose the time, and the place is familiar tome. And yes, I have every confidence that I’m going to succeed.
Everything else is an unknown factor.
Most of all, Willow Lynch.
I wake myself up with a cold shower. My doctor would disapprove—anything that shocks my system can be detrimental to my heart. But then again, he disapproves of fencing too, and he would definitely disapprove of hunting as a pastime, even if he didn’t know I was hunting a person.
After my cold shower, I get dressed. Willow was working until three in the morning, so she’s probably still asleep. Following my normal morning routine will make me feel calmer, more in control, so I decide to go for my morning swim and fencing practice.
When I get to my door, the handle comes off in my hand.
