Chapter Two: The Hunt Begins
746 Words
The moment she slipped from his grasp, Julian felt something he hadn't in a while. Amusement.
It was just so precious, the way she thought she had a voice.
He never let go. Never allowed someone to walk away unless he decided to let them go. And yet, she had attempted to disappear into the sea of people as if she were bulletproof.
Little liar.
Julian did not chase women. But Naomi?
She was different.
A predator’s patience was key, and he had all the time in the world.
He leaned against the bar, ordering another whiskey. Taking his time. Watching the crowd. Waiting.
Because she would come back.
They always did.
And when she did—he’d make sure she never ran again.
Naomi’s Mistake
Naomi’s heart was still racing when she reached the upper floor of the club, her hands gripping the railing as she looked down at the sea of masked strangers below.
The air up here was clearer, but her thoughts were tangled.
Who the hell was he?
She had seen men like him before—dangerous, powerful, the kind who played with people like they were nothing.
And yet, when he had touched her…
She panted hard, her thighs closing spasmodically around each other.
No. No, no, no.
She did not get mixed up with men such as that. She had more sense.
But even as she told herself to forget him, her body had other plans. Recollection of his grip, his scent, the heat of his breath against the skin of her ear—already it was branded into her skin.
She turned away from the rail, intent on moving before she did something foolish.
But the moment she spun—
He stood there.
Sagging against the wall, whiskey in hand, looking at her like a man who already owned her.
Her breath caught.
"How—"
Julian smiled, slow and lethal. "Think you could get away from me?"
Naomi's heart sped. Too close. Too intense.
She attempted to sneer, masking her fear behind bravado. "I didn't know you were tracking me."
Julian took a slow step forward, his presence swallowing the space between them.
“Oh, darling.” He reached out, brushing a gloved finger along her jaw. A whisper of a touch, enough to send a shiver down her spine.
“I wasn’t following you,” he murmured. “I was hunting you.”
Naomi’s stomach clenched.
The worst part?
She liked it.
A Lesson in Power
"Look," she said, trying to get a hold. "I don't play those games. If you want a girl to fall at your feet, I'm sure there are plenty downstairs who will."
Julian laughed. A deep, dark sound.
"And yet, here you are."
Her mouth opened, words failing her.
He was right.
She should have left the club altogether.
But instead, she had lingered. Remained.
Waiting for him to come and find her.
Julian lifted his hand, tracing the curve of her collarbone. The glove leather chilled against the heat of her skin.
"You don't want me to stop," he whispered. "Do you?"
Naomi hated the way her body responded to him.
She hated the way her heart pounded, the way her breathing was shallow.
So she did the only thing she could do.
She slapped his hand away.
Julian smiled softly. Not with shock. With pleasure.
“You’ve got fire,” he mused. “I like that.”
“Good for you.” Naomi turned to leave, but his hand shot out, catching her wrist.
Not harsh. But firm. Unrelenting.
She gasped, turning back to glare at him.
“Let. Me. Go.”
Julian tilted his head, eyes dark with something unreadable. “I will. But first—”
He pulled her closer, so close she could feel his breath on her lips.
“—You need to understand something.”
She swallowed hard.
"This?" He stepped between them. "It's already started. You don't get to walk away."
Naomi shuddered, but she did not turn away. "You don't own me."
Julian smiled, stepping forward until his lips were just a whisper from her ear.
"Yet."
And then, as suddenly, he released her.
Naomi stepped back, her breath heaving and then falling.
Julian moved back, his green eyes flashing behind the mask. As though he'd already won.
"I'll be seeing you soon, little liar," he whispered.
And then he walked away—leaving her there, already addicted to the darkness he bore.
- Writer
