A Predator's Obsession Novels & Stories

I admonished and took the liberty to take several steps range to plop back on his leather-clad office couch. He watches me voyage floatingly around his office like it’s my stage, I feel his heavy gaze on me but I desperately need distance. Distance gives security. A credible escape percentage that matters when your throat is on the line. But what I crave is scarce. The way his energy haunts me is superficial and sometimes more tangible than skin against skin. His eyes tell me he’s enjoying the thrill of my thrashing. I steel my expression. Predators enjoy revealed fears. It gives them the power to be a bare predator. Once you make a run, the crouching beast doesn’t disguise himself. Then the

Harrison repeated, finally lifting his head. When his eyes locked onto mine, my breath was completely sucked from my lungs. The raw, possessive hunger burning in his gaze was suffocating, stripping away any defense I had been trying to build. He didn't look like a stepfather, but more like a predator who had just found the exact, damning blueprint of my obsession with him. The stolen shots of his hands gripping a glass of scotch, the broad, imposing line of his back, the raw, intimate focus on his lips—he had seen every single one of them, laid bare in high-definition.

“It did. And I would go through it all again if it meant ending up here with you. You are my greatest adventure Liana. My forever.” We sat in comfortable silence for a long time, just holding each other as the waves whispered against the shore. Then I felt it again. That old familiar chill. I sat up slowly and looked toward the cliffs in the distance. There, standing perfectly still against the darkening sky, was a new figure. A silhouette watching us from afar. Not moving. Not hiding. Just watching. “John,” I whispered, my hand tightening on his arm. He followed my gaze and went still. “I see it. Whoever it is, they are still out there. The obsession never truly died. It just changed faces.

He turned to Dylan and eyed him briefly before whispering to me, "He has the eyes of a predator. A really hungry one that wants to fuck you in every style known to man." "You know I can hear you right?" Dylan said before walking over to me and yanking me to his side. My heart started racing, I was confused, pissed and a little bit glad for some reason. I didn't expect him to react this way so what gives? "Only a predator can recognise a fellow predator. I won't deny it though. If I get the chance, I'll be balls deep in her tonight."

Obsession is my game, and once I've claimed someone, nothing— not even death—can extinguish the all-consuming fire that drives me to have them. Jayce was slowly becoming my new fixation, my new prey. And if he allowed me to claim him, nothing would shield him from my relentless pursuit. He would be mine, utterly and completely. I'd stop at nothing to possess him, to own him, to consume him. The thought sent a shiver down my spine, a dark thrill that coursed through my veins like poison. Something pressed against my ribcage, jolting me out of the moment, and I tore my lips away from Jayce's. But Jayce's gaze locked onto mine, his bruised lips parted ever so slightly, and I was drawn back in.

Instead, a peculiar tranquility settled within me as I quietly embraced the necessary extremes for my own protection. Viktor occupied the seat to my right where his presence struck me as both chilling and compelling. His blue eyes examined his surroundings with predatory sharpness, poised to seize the perfect moment to strike. He wore a black suit which appeared both crisp and expensive without flaw yet he emanated an aura of control. His silence created an unsettling atmosphere yet I sensed he belonged to the category of men who reserved their words for moments of absolute necessity.

I whispered. “Stop what?” His eyes met mine, dark with an obsession I’d never seen before. “Are you afraid of how your body responds to me?” “I hate you,” I said, biting down on my lip to keep from making any sound as he continued his assault on my neck. “I hate this.” “Liar,” he breathed against my skin. “You want this as much as I do.” His hands roamed over my body with a familiarity that made me sick. This wasn’t the gentle man I’d fallen for, this was a predator who’d been playing a long game.

It was the sound of a trap snapping shut. I felt the weight of their gazes hit me like a physical force. Adrian turned his head slowly. The look in his eyes was no longer about obsession; it was about survival. It was a look that said, Either I own you and the chair, or I ensure no one else can. It was a lethal, predatory gaze that promised a war without mercy.

“If I lose control.” His mouth brushes mine again, slower now, almost reverent. “Then I’ll hold you through it.” The building shudders violently. This time not from a predator. From inside the network. Every monitor in the observatory snaps back on at once. Not with Architect symbols. With live feeds. Cities worldwide. And in each one, something impossible is happening. The predators are not attacking. They are circling. Waiting. As if expecting instruction. The child’s presence rises sharply in my mind.