He is my predator, and I am his prey. Tonight, he is starving for a taste of what’s his. It was Halloween, my favorite time of the year. I had my dream job as a tattoo artist, a loyal best friend, and an ex who happily tended to my needs without complicating our arrangement with feelings. Everything was going great until Devil’s Night when the masked man watched me from the shadows like a predator stalking his next meal, and that’s what I was: his prey. Like any natural-born predator, he was blo...