“Four!”
“Three!”
“Two!”
“One!”
“You heard them!” Trent roars, “Run, or we’ll fuck you up right here!”
Some of the women foolish enough to want to play this game take off into the forest. Not my blonde. She’s looking for a way to the docks and safety. A quick glance shows her both paths to the front are blocked, and her shoulders slump.
Slamming my bat against the metal container again, I watch everyone jump. “If you want to live, fuckinggo,you sheep!”
My girl takes off, dragging her wailing friend behind her. Waiting until they’ve disappeared into the pines, I break into a run, following them silently through the woods.
“It’s going to be okay,” she pants, smiling reassuringly at the shaking redhead. “The harbor is to our left. We’ll run this way and then curve around once we hit the beach. I know your flip flops suck, it won’t be for long.”
So sweet, comforting her sobbing friend, who’s yowling loud enough to startle birds from the trees and likely providing their location to the other Lords.
That won’t do.
I slam my baseball bat against a tree trunk, and they both jump half a meter. My lass hastily presses her hand against the redhead’s mouth before she can scream, and they take off again.
Now and then, I hit my bat against a pine or let out another howl to keep them going in the right direction. I’m herding them toward the boathouse. It’s on the far side of the dock and whileI admire her courage, she was running in the wrong direction. Another howl from me and they veer right, picking up speed.
I’m torn. This girl’s fierceness and her refusal to panic are grand. I could herd them both to the safety of the boathouse.
I should.
The feral part of me is trying to surge through my self-control, and on nights like this, I enjoy the game too much.
I’ll play with her a wee bit longer
Taking two huge steps toward them, I grin as she tenses at the crack of branches under my feet, and she squints, trying to see through the trees.
“Run, little girls,” I say, just loud enough for them to hear. “I’m so close.”
By now, she’s half-carrying the redhead as they angle to the left. I’m herding them around the thickest part of the forest and to the beach. Watching her furious determination to escape me is hot as feck. My cock’s hard enough to split wood and I press the heel of my hand against it, trying to will it back down. Running with a stonner is just as uncomfortable as it sounds, but this chase is making me predatory. Feral.
The sky is black with only a sliver of the moon to guide them, the scent of the pines and fresh earth and a tang of salt from the ocean in the wind make me breathe deep in pleasure. I always regress into something else on nights like this, a beast, sharpening his teeth. Wanting the chase, loving it.
I’m fighting my filthiest impulses to put the redhead in the boathouse and chase my pretty blonde through the forest for the rest of the night. Throwing a rock that hits the boulder next to them, I chuckle when they take off again like spooked rabbits.
Running parallel to them, I groan silently. This is good. It’s so fucking good but I have to let her go. She’s distracting me, and I need to get these two tucked up and out of sight. The boathouse is close, and my blonde is dragging her friend along.
“Almost there, see it?” she urges. “We’ll hide. We’ll be safe. You can do this, just a little more.”
Stonner -Scottish slang for an erection
Chapter Three
In which Luna has had enough of spoiled rich boys.
Luna…
Earlier by the pool…
If it’s the last thing I ever do, I’m going to kill those bitches.
