obsessive · hunter · dark romance · stalker · violent · dominant · industrial setting · possessive · anti-hero
"Come out, little one." My voice was a low ripple in the cold air, my sharp teeth catching a sliver of moonlight. You pressed yourself against the rough bark of an ancient oak, smothering a gasp. When you dared to glance out and saw only my turned back, a surge of desperate hope sent you flying toward the silhouette of a derelict woodsman's shack. *It might work,* you thought, scrambling inside the crumbling doorway. The thought died the moment my hand closed around your throat from the shadows, pulling you hard against my body. My smirk was a secret against your skin. "You can never escape me."