The Prey: A Dark Enemies to Lovers Romance (Oakmount Elite Book 3)

I stand near the bed and strip out of my suit jacket while I stare down at her. Her beauty—that fragile, elfin sort of prettiness—is exactly what Mondrake likes. Big doe eyes that draw a man in, a cute button nose.

I draw in a deep breath. I understand the appeal.

She looks utterly breakable. Porcelain in a sea of crockery.

Once I toss my jacket over a small leather armchair, I undo the top couple of buttons of my dress shirt. It would probably be best if I change while Ely is getting ready. I blink back the haze of exhaustion lingering from yesterday, from the trip, from my fucking life. It’s time to get this shit show on the road. Gently, I shake her khaki-clad thigh.

She jolts but doesn’t open her eyes. I lean and tap her cheek gently with the side of my hand. The last thing I need is her flailing awake and hitting me in her confusion, but after a moment, it appears there isn’t another option since she’s not waking up as easily as I had hoped.

With another deflated sigh, I tap her cheek a bit harder, but not enough to put any sting into it. That must do the trick because she wakes with a startled gasp. She blinks her eyes open as she rolls over in the bed, a groan escaping her mouth as her gaze fastens on me.

“What the hell did you give me?”

I step away, putting distance between us. “That doesn’t matter. It’s time to get up. You might have a bit of a headache, but the upside is you probably won’t suffer any jet lag.”

She squeezes her eyes closed again and rolls her top half onto her belly, then pushes up to sit. “Jet lag? How long was I out?”

I check the vintage Rolex on my wrist as I finish unbuttoning my shirt. “Ten or so hours.”

“Hours?” She repeats my word back to herself, her brow furrowing with confusion.

“While I know you love to chitchat, we don’t have time for that. I need you to get ready now, because we have an hour before the event starts, and arriving late isn’t an option.”

She blinks out of her confusion, her gaze going wide-eyed as she drinks in my completely bare chest. “What the hell are you doing?”

I turn away from her to find my luggage. It would have been better to hire someone to unpack for us, too, but I don’t want anyone touching my weapons or going through my things.

“Getting ready, which is what I told you to do.”

Turning my head to the side, I gaze at her over my shoulder. Another blink, another long stare. Are you kidding me? I don’t have time for her bullshit. Whatever patience I had built up for her is gone now. I stalk back to the bed, my shirt flapping open along my ribs.

“Wake the hell up and get moving. Bathroom is over there.” I point at a door leading off the bedroom. “I’ll grab you something to wear.”

Fear trickles into her eyes, and I can see the hesitation building. “Wh-where are we?”

I take her chin in my hand and squeeze it gently. “Ely, darling, if you don’t get moving, I’m going to drag you to this event naked.”

There’s a dark layer of menace in my voice now that she doesn’t seem to be grasping.

She blinks again, and as the words sink in, she jerks her face from my hold and glances around the room. Once she spots the windows, she glances back at me, then scoots backward across to the other side of the bed, walking over to the windows. It’s a gorgeous view, and I don’t begrudge the little gasp that escapes her lips as she cups her mouth.

“Are we…is…is this London?”

“Sure is. Now get dressed.”

Of course she doesn’t listen to anything I’m saying, and I have to stalk back to her side, grip her by the bicep, and drag her to the bathroom door. “Go, or I’ll be going in with you to make sure you actually listen to me.”

She cranes her neck back and looks up at me, and I see the usual haze that comes from the use of that medication. It still lingers in her system, which would be fine if I didn’t need her to be a little more alert. Her legs wobble as she steps into the bathroom, and thank the fucking lord she does. I slam the door closed behind her and release a sigh of frustration.

If she were anyone else, I would’ve ruined her by now, but every time I think of crushing her in my fist, I see that broken and bruised image of her from that night in my mind, and I can’t bring myself to hurt her.

On the far side of the room is a small coffee maker that sits on the bar. I stalk over to it and hit the button for an espresso, placing a small glass demitasse beneath it.

Coffee should wake her the fuck up, and if it doesn’t, then I guess she’ll have to deal with my assholery keeping her in line.

A few minutes later, she exits the bathroom and scans the bedroom hesitantly, her gaze finding me. The espresso machine spits out the final drops of coffee, and I take the tiny cup over to her.

She takes it from me, staring at the brown liquid suspiciously. “Did you drug it?”

My annoyance climbs once more. “No, the drugs were to keep me sane on the long flight, and keep you alive by stopping me from tossing you out the damn exit hatch. This is to wake you up.”

“How can I trust that you’re telling the truth?”

I might murder her. I just fucking might.

“I told you the biggest mistake you could ever make is to trust me, so trust is a non-issue here, Prey. I’m not a good guy. I will hurt you if it gets me what I want. Don’t make me do that; just do what I fucking say and stop questioning me because, in the end, I don’t care if you trust me or not. What I care about is you waking the fuck up and making yourself presentable. That’s what I care about. So don’t trust me…trust me. It’s all the same.”

Her eyes narrow, the blue catching the light, but she doesn’t respond, thankfully. Instead, she sips the espresso like we have all the time in the world. That only pisses me off more. I can feel my blood pressure rising. I roll my eyes in place of taking the cup and pouring the contents directly down her throat. “Just fucking drink it, already!”

Maybe she can sense how close to the edge I am, or maybe she’s finally decided to get moving; either way, I can’t complain when she places the cup on the end table and starts doing as she’s told. In an effort to move things along, I grab a dress out of the suitcase for her. “Here, put this on.”

She pauses and then starts examining the shimmery green fabric. “This…I don’t remember this being in Bel’s closet.”

“Okay? And your point is? I didn’t ask if you wanted to wear it. I told you to wear it.”

Her blue eyes blink rapidly, and I look away before I fall into their depths. “I can’t. It’s way too short; never mind the fact that I’ll look like a can of busted biscuits in it.”

All I hear are complaints when what I need is for her to do what she’s fucking told. I’m irritable and snappy and just need her to do what I say, when I say it.

“Enough,” I shout but then slam my mouth shut, my teeth clashing against one another, and I realize a moment too late that she’s enraged me to the point that I’m yelling.

I strive for control, and somehow, this tiny scrap of a woman has found a way to shatter that. When it comes to her, I go from zero to a hundred in an ,instant.

I need to calm down before I do something really fucking stupid. I force a ragged breath into my lungs, hoping the fresh oxygen will stop me from strangling her. Nope, not helping. I let my eyes fall closed and sink into that feeling of relief. Okay…let’s try this again. I blink my eyes open, and this time I glance from the floor, then back up to her face.

Like a random rainstorm, the anger, annoyance, and frustration return, threatening to pour out of me. I drag a hand through the mess of my blond hair and tug at the strands to the point of pain. It’s only ever Ely. Only this one infuriating female who can⁠—

Fuck.

This stops now. All of it. I refuse to let her crawl under my skin and undo me from the inside out. No more threatening her. No more excuses. It’s time that I play my part. It’s time that I show her who I really am.

“I’m not trying to be difficult…” Her voice wobbles, a slow tremble rippling through her slim body. She’s afraid, but the drugs that linger in her system make her braver, more flexible.

I snarl my upper lip and leer toward her. “That’s the problem. You tell me you aren’t trying to be difficult, but you still are. So let me make this easier for you…” I reach for the knife I carry on me at all times. It’s a small switchblade, but it will do the job.

I tug it free from my slacks and open it in one swift motion. The knife cuts through the air with a swish. Elyse reacts with a gasp, her blue eyes shining with fear. She takes a step back, and being the prey that she is, instinct alone is ordering her to run. Part of me wants to tell her to do that.

Do it. Run, Little Prey. It’ll make hunting you down and taking what I want all the more fun.

The other part of me, the saner side, knows her running will not end well, for me, yes, but her, not so much, Which is why I choose to go a different route entirely.

Regarding the blade of the knife, I point the tip at her. “What am I removing first?”

“W-what?”

“You heard me, Ely! Is it really that difficult? Put the goddamn dress on, or I’ll take you to the event naked, and trust me, Little Prey, this isn’t the sort of place you want to go stark-ass naked. It might lead someone to believe you’re for sale or, worse, that you want to play in one of their games. The choice is yours: belong to me or belong to a stranger. But stop dicking around, or I’ll make the choice for you.”

I take another step, bringing myself even closer. The tip of the knife catches in the dim light that illuminates the space from the bathroom. It gleams, and for a moment, I wonder what it might look like with her blood on it, but before I let that image bloom in my mind, it disappears.

Staring her down, I gently press the blade against the spot where her heartbeat beats a frantic tattoo at the hollow of her throat.

“What’s your choice, Prey?”