The Prey

After we finished the meal in a silence thick enough to cut with a knife, he slid a dessert plate in front of me—a rich, decadent slice of chocolate pie. The aroma was sweet, almost intoxicating, a stark contrast to the tension that hung between us. He leaned back in his chair, his gaze steady, waiting, like he knew I wouldn’t refuse.

“Eat,” he commanded. But there was a flicker in his eyes, something darker, more intimate.

As much as I tried to ignore it, I was fatally attracted to that darkness in some sense.

I picked up the fork, and took a small bite, trying to ignore...