A Predator's Obsession Novels & Stories

"You were the predator," Pim retorted, finally pivoting in her chair, her face a mask of cold, exhausted fury. "But you were the predator inside a fenced enclosure. Every kill you made, every enemy you dismantled, was just protein for Mother’s political growth. You fed the beast, and now it’s grown large enough to swallow the entire city."

Or not find out at all, as he could just be a serial killer with no purpose for killing except to derive a sense of achievement. A predator will always be one. And in Hunter’s case, he needs to be tamed. “Get out,” the man’s grumpy voice comes. From where? One might ask. From beside my fucking bed! One shadow soon leaves behind the other with a magnificent height—that is intimidating. And as muscle cramps don’t shy away from me, making it hard to move, breathing becomes a hassle too. Now I wonder if it’s the cold subduing me or something else; like Hunter casting a silent spell.

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

“He was crying, Beck. Like raw, ugly tears when he said Jared took something he loved.” She looked Beck in the eyes. “I don't think that was just jealousy or heartbreak. It was something else. He was… devastated.” "Obsession also doesn't fuel a six year hunt," Hayden added, putting his arm around her as if he needed the physical contact to stay grounded. "Obsession makes you messy. This man is precise.” He gestured sharply to the rose, the note, the whole night. “This is… organized. This is patience. This is years of planning.”

Lilliana says. “My father’s ideals are outdated. He is a dictator with sole control over everything. Don’t you also want a say? Don’t you also want power? Why should one man have everything? You can all become rich. You can all share in the power. Just give us your support a little while longer” she says and the men cheer. Amber sits seductively on the table, exposing her cleavage to the room. I cannot believe these men are buying the nonsense she is spewing. If there is one thing I have seen over the years, it is that there can only be one Boss. The man sitting below me at the head of the table, still has his arms on the rests. He is looking out over the room. The men are all deep in conver

He means so much to me and I want to do everything to protect him. “That was when I started suspecting you both. And you tend to be very possessive of him. Each time he's speaking to Kuzma, you have this possessive look on your face like you're going to kill Kuzma if he doesn't take his hands off Adrian.” Yes, I get very jealous when I see the both of them talking. I know Kuzma is straight and all, but I seriously hate the idea of him coming close to what's mine. Adrian is for my eyes only.

It was now just a matter of the predator and the prey. His eyes widened slightly, he saw a girl in a grey sweater, hiding in the dark. He should be smelling her- her shampoo, her body spray, her hair cream, her breakfast, or even her anxiety. But he smelled nothing. It was as if he was looking at a ghost. And then, a flicker of emotion crossed his stoic face. Obsession. Curiosity. Hunger. He resumed his speech, his voice dropping an octave, becoming darker, huskier than earlier. But he didn’t look away, he kept his eyes fixated on her corner of the room, although he was speaking to the crowd, but in reality, he was addressing her.

- KILLIAN - Fear. Even from a mile away, I can sense the fear of my prey. It’s very satisfying for a predator to witness the defeat of a victim before it’s claimed as a conquest. And right now, I am that predator, enjoying the trivial acts of my prey. I thrive on it. Dine on it even. And just at the right time, when I have her cornered, I’ll strike and leave nothing untouched. Hunting has never felt so divine.

Mine. I traced him like a map only I was allowed to read. My thumb sketched lazy circles into the dip of his waist, my nails dragged faint lines up the length of his arm, stopping at the delicate curve of his shoulder. He shifted, a breath catching, and I smiled. That instinctive fear threaded into his veins was intoxicating. Every shiver, every startled twitch was a reminder that he knew—deep down—that predators like me were carved to consume prey like him. But I didn’t want to consume him. Not fully. Not yet. I wanted to stretch this obsession into eternity, slow and deliberate, like torture dressed as devotion.

“There’s the sassy girl I know. Smartass.” The professor continues and I try to focus, but shit, he’s going to be in this class—right next to me—for the whole semester. DING! He’s going to drive me crazy. He wrote, Where’s that Kama Sutra book? I bet she still has it. Get a copy. I take a deep breath. This is going to be a long semester.