His Perfect Prey
Author’s note:
If you’ve read my Berserker series, you'll know I’m obsessed with primal play.
And since writing the dark trilogies with Stasia Black, I’ve had the idea for a dark mafia world in my head. All these ideas congealed into His Perfect Prey. I was a few pages in before I realized it’s a Little Red Riding Hood retelling.
I’m delighted with how Elodie and Jaeger’s story turned out. My favorite part of plotting is hearing the character’s voices in my head all night. A few months before I started writing, I heard Jaeger calling Elodie “Bunny.” I knew then this book would be special.
His Perfect Prey is book one in the Fraternitas series. Fraternitas is a mafia brotherhood founded by a man called The Devil. It’s set in the same world as my books with Stasia Black (start with Innocence) and my Mafia Brides. I’m excited to write more of these characters!
Jaeger
Billionaire’s Island is an oasis outside of the city. The richest of the rich own vacation homes here. And the Lodge, a private club set on several hundred acres of wooded land. The elite come here to party, to gamble at the private tables, and partake of bacchanal delights offered in the BDSM dungeon on the lower floors.
I stand at the bar with a drink in my hand, studying its amber depths. At six feet three and over two hundred pounds of pure muscle, I don’t fit in with the glitzy and glamorous set. Unlike the trust fund bros and businessmen with soft hands, I wasn’t born into privilege. I was born on the street. I’ve spent my life surviving on the knife’s edge of danger. This soft life doesn’t suit me. I came to the Lodge to clear my head, but not even the burn of expensive whiskey is enough to sate the monster prowling inside me.
The beast wants to feed.
I need to get some pussy. It’s been far too long, and the Lodge is full of beautiful women. There are waitresses in short skirts and club submissives in barely-there-bodysuits. Not to mention the socialites and heiresses here in designer dresses, seeking a walk and ride on the wild side. I can feel them looking at me. I could crook my finger and snare any of them. But that doesn’t interest me at all.
I prefer a brutal chase. I need the thrill of the hunt to sate the beast.
I’m looking around for the pretty redhead I saw a few days ago at Inferno, the bar our brotherhood runs in the city. Sometimes the girls who work Inferno also pick up shifts here at the Lodge.
I haven’t been able to get her out of my mind. Curly, red hair, tight curves, a few freckles showing through her heavy makeup. She's just my type. My dream girl brought to life. When I first spotted her, I thought I was asleep. She’s so stunning, it’s like the gods created her from my fantasies.
But she’s not here.
I down my whiskey and rap the bar for another.
“Happy birthday, Jaeger.” Sebastian St. James emerges from the shadows. He invited me here. I should’ve been expecting him. Only years of training allow me to hide the fact that he’s snuck up on me.
“St. James.” I turn to face him. St. James is in his usual gray suit. From silk tie to silver cufflinks, every tailored inch of him looks the part of a successful, well-bred businessman. Only those of us who know him well know he’s more dangerous than a viper. “How did you know it was our birthday?”
St. James doesn’t answer. He sips his drink, calm under my intense scrutiny. He’s my blood brother, but I still tread carefully around him.
When you live on the outskirts of society, the way I have, you catalog threats. All my life, I’ve been surrounded by dangerous men. I’ve made myself a bigger threat than the rest. But my instincts recognize St. James is on another level. He’s subtle as a snake in the grass and just as deadly. The men he’s destroyed never saw it coming.
“Right. You know everything.” This isn’t the day my twin brother and I were born. It’s a day we chose for ourselves. This is the day we were freed from hell and reborn.
But St. James probably knows that, too.
“I have a gift for you,” he says.
I snort. “Do you think I just turned seven? Birthday gifts are for kids.” Not that I know from experience. My upbringing didn’t afford any childish celebrations.
“I think you’ll like this gift.” He snaps his fingers, and a cute blonde dressed as a cigar girl sashays over. St. James selects two cigars from her tray and heads out of the Lodge, onto the massive wooden deck overlooking the thick forest. I follow him. He’s head of Fraternitas, second in command only to the man called the Devil. I follow him because I’ve sworn to do so.
But I’m also intrigued.
St. James takes our cigars across the deck to the far railing. I lean on it and look out at the acres of wilderness. You’d never know a city of nine million was a few miles away. The only sounds are the rustling leaves, the hum of insects, and the hoots and howls of night creatures. It’s peaceful and wild.
It soothes the beast.
A match flares, and St. James hands me my cigar.
Now that he’s piqued my curiosity, the bastard’s going to make me beg. “So what is it? My gift?”
“I spoke to Damien.” He means Damien, the Devil. Head of Fraternitas. “He and I agreed you deserve a reward for the sacrifices you’ve made.”
He’s referring to the last six months that I spent on a mission for Fraternitas. The one that left my hands stained in so much blood I’ll never be able to scrub them clean. “Everything I do, I do for the brotherhood. To uphold my vow.”
“We know that. You’ve proven your loyalty many times. And you’ve earned a reward.” He flicks ash over the side of the rail.
Somewhere underneath us, an alarm sounds. I tense. A door on the lower level, under the deck, bangs open.
A figure races out from under us. A woman, bare legged, wearing a white dress that glows in the moonlight.
My whole body is tense, my muscles tightening, ready to give chase.
My twin and I have excellent night vision. It’s one of the reasons we’re so deadly in the dark. Now my gift allows me to pick out details about the runner. She’s got a wealth of curly hair tumbling down her back. Her pale legs flash as she pelts across the lawn, away from the Lodge.
I track her until she disappears into the tree line, every instinct in me telling me to run after her.
St. James smokes his cigar, watching me with amusement. I’m gripping the railing hard enough to get splinters.
“Who is she?” I growl.
“A waitress. She typically works at Inferno. I assigned her other duties tonight.” Godsdamn St. James. He’s noticed me watching the redhead and lured both of us here. He has something planned.
“What duties?”
“She’s yours for the night. If you can catch her.” His gray eyes glitter in the moonlight. St. James likes edge play. That’s why he owns multiple BDSM clubs, including the Lodge.
And if he knows everything, he knows there’s nothing I like better than a wild, primal hunt.
“She signed a contract and everything. She’s been well paid to run from you in the woods. She gets a bonus if she eludes you past midnight. More if she makes it until dawn.” He gives me a satisfied look, the closest thing he has to a smile. “I doubt it’ll take you that long to hunt her down.”
“You mean…” The beast is roaring in my chest. My chest is swelling, my lungs pumping like bellows, getting me ready to run after her. My prey.
“Welcome to the Hunt. You have free reign of the property until dawn. And when you catch her, she’s all yours.” He pulls out a black mask–a simple hood with eye holes and a white skull painted on the front. It’s what I wear when doing ritual executions. He hands it to me and nods to the stairs to the left of us, leading down to the lawn. “I told her you’d give her a ten minute head start.”
* * *
Elodie
I dash between the trees, racing with my arms outstretched to push through the branches. Briars scratch at my bare limbs and face.
Overhead a full moon shines bright. It’s helping me see my way through this thicket, but I know it’s illuminating the dress I’m wearing. The white is the opposite of camouflage. I might as well be spot lit on a stage.
The jerk who’d hired me made me put on this white dress. Luckily it’s the end of summer, and the night’s aren’t that cold. I’m barefoot, too. It’s obvious I’m supposed to fulfill some specific fantasy. This is the Hunt, and I’m the poor, helpless prey. Half-naked, dressed like a virgin ready for sacrifice.
Whatever. As long as I get paid.
Waitressing isn’t enough to get me and my sister out of the mess her ex has made. I need the thousand dollars Mr. St. James offered me to take this gig. He also dangled a bonus if I keep from getting caught before midnight. He wants me incentivized to give the patron a real hunt.
If I last until midnight, I get ten thousand dollars. But if I make it until morning, he’ll give me a hundred thousand in unmarked bills.
That’s the goal. A thousand dollars will help our problems. Ten thousand will fix them.
One hundred thousand will change our lives. I have to keep from getting caught.
I strip off the white dress as I run. I rip it into pieces and hang one strip on a low branch. It hovers suspended in the air like a ghost.
I weave through the towering oaks, leaving scraps of my dress on the branches of the smaller elms and holly trees. Red herrings to throw the hunter off my scent.
But now I’m naked. And my pale skin is a beacon in the night.
The woods end, and I race through the long grasses of the lawn. My feet slide into mud, and I flail to keep from falling. The black glimmer in front of me must be a small pond.
Behind me, back at the Lodge, there’s a blast of a horn. The long, low note sends chills up my arms. That must be the signal St. James told me about. He promised me that I’d know when the hunter headed out after me.
I’m running out of time.
The hunt has begun.
* * *
Jaeger
I jog down the stairs and head for the forest. The only sign of St. James is the burning end of his cigar. I don’t give a damn that he’s watching. My whole focus is on the sweet scent hovering in the air—the scent of my prey.
I strip off my shirt, and my skin prickles in the cool air. It’s still summer, but the night has a bite to it.
I was born feral. From day one, my twin and I fought for survival like weeds growing through a crack on the sidewalk. It wasn’t until I said my vows and joined Fraternitas that I got to experience the world beyond the concrete jungle. The first time I came out here, heard the chorus of crickets and breathed the fresh air, I was home.
St. James and the Devil were visionaries, even when they were young. They figured out how to turn the petty crimes of a gang of street rats into a profitable gambling and smuggling enterprise and expanded into real estate before we were old enough to own land. Fraternitas owns almost all of Billionaire Island, including the vast acreage where we built The Lodge. There’s a privacy fence around our land, but I’d have to jog miles to reach it.
Plenty of wilderness for me to hunt.
I tug on the executioner’s hood. Now I look like what I am: a killer. A beast bred to lurk in the wilderness on the outskirts of society. I’m lucky Fratenitas has a need for my monstrous urges, otherwise I’d have been put down like a dog.
This is why I’ve never claimed a woman. No one should have to suffer the savagery of my possession.
But now, I have a sacrifice offered up on a platter, and I’ll be damned if I don’t take it.
“Run, run, little red,” I hum to myself, picking up my pace until I’m jogging through trees. “Here comes The Big, Bad Wolf.”
Keep reading His Perfect Prey
Book Summary
The rules of the Hunt: The prey will have a ten minute head start to run.
At the signal, the hunter will enter the woods. The Hunt has begun.
If the prey isn’t captured before midnight, she gets $10,000.
If she makes it until dawn, she gets $100,000.
But if the hunter catches her, she’s his for the night.
There’s one final, secret rule only the hunter knows: what the hunter catches, he keeps. His prey will become his elita, his chosen. She will belong to him. Forever.
Let the hunt begin…