Like this was always meant to happen.
Like I was always meant to end up here, running through a vineyard in the dark, being hunted by a man whose face I haven't seen but whose voice I can't get out of my head.
You're mine.
The words echo through my skull as I run, blending with the pound of my heartbeat, the slap of my feet on frozen ground, the ragged gasps of my breathing.
I am not his.
I am not anyone's.
I am?—
The footsteps are right behind me now.
I can hear his breathing, steady and controlled where mine is ragged and desperate. I can feel the heat of him, somehow, cutting through the February chill like a fire at my back.
I push for one last burst of speed, everything I have left, every reserve I didn't know I possessed.
It's not enough.
He's faster.
He's stronger.
He's been playing with me this whole time, and now he's done playing.
I can feel him closing the distance, the moment rushing toward me like a fucking freight train.
And then?—
His hand closes around my arm.
CHAPTER 2
LUKE
She runs like a fucking dream.
I track her through the vineyard, hanging back just enough to let her think she has a chance. The red dress was the perfect choice—it catches the glow of the lights with every stride. I can see exactly where she is at all times, even when she changes direction and thinks she’s lost me.
My boots are silent on the packed earth as I move parallel to her path, cutting through rows she hasn't reached yet. I know this vineyard like I know my own body—every dead end, every shortcut, every spot where the old growth vines create pockets of shadow deep enough to disappear into.
I should. I've spent the last four months memorizing it.
The property originally belonged to Marcus Chen, my college roommate's husband. When I told him what I needed—fifty acres of private vineyard, no questions asked—he'd laughed and handed over the keys while I signed a check valued at double what this place is worth. I did it because this place is perfect for what I needed.
"You Morrisons are into some weird shit," he'd said.
He has no idea.
I pause at the end of a row, watching Seraphina's silhouette dart left about thirty yards ahead. She's fast. Faster than I expected, even with the sedative still working through her system. Her bare feet slap against the frozen ground—she ditched the heels somewhere in the first few minutes, smart girl—and her breathing comes in sharp, visible puffs in the cold air.
The sound of her fear is fucking intoxicating.
But it's not just fear. I can smell something else beneath the adrenaline, something sweeter and darker.Arousal. She's wet already, I'd bet my life on it. Her body knows what her mind hasn't figured out yet—that this is exactly what she needs. What webothneed.
I adjust my mask and continue the hunt.
