Every rabbit has a wolf that stalks, and hunts—eventually devouring. He is my wolf.
I knew when I meet him that he was no good. The prey inside me quivered at the predator in him, and I fled.
That should have been it. Simple. Done. Forgotten.
But things are never simple. Life has taught me that much, at least.
I smell him where I shouldn’t, winter and sin. I wake in the night, heart pounding, sweat clinging to my skin like dew, certain he’s standing in the shadows, watching. It’s crazy, I know. It’s impossible. And yet—I fantasize about the wrongness of his obsession.
Until he steals me.
Until fantasy becomes a nightmare.
Now, he says I’m his. My body, innocence, freedom…all his.
He vows to make me love him.
But he’s still the wolf who hunted me, and I’ll always be his little rabbit.
