I can be free.
I feel that strange mixture of fear and disappointment again, a longing to stay mixed with the knowledge that Ineedto go. If he keeps me, if he catches me… I don’t know if I’ll ever get free again, even if he let me go.
I’m too close to admitting that I want him as much as he wants me.
I move through the warehouse as softly and quietly as I can, trying to control my breathing despite the fear coursing through me. I pass through a section filled with old machinery I don't recognize, and I'm starting to think I might actually make it when I hear his voice, coming from somewhere in the darkness.
"I used to watch you run."
I freeze, my blood turning to ice. His voice is calm, conversational, like we're having a normal discussion instead of playing this twisted game.
"Every morning," he continues, and I still can't tell where he is. The acoustics of the warehouse make his voice seem to come from everywhere and nowhere. "You'd leave your apartment at six a.m.. Always the same route. Through Central Park, over the river, around back to your apartment.”
I bite my lip, shifting carefully as I move to another shadow, trying to figure out where his voice is coming from so that I canstay ahead of him. But my hands are shaking now, my breath coming faster.
“I always thought you were beautiful when you ran. So focused and determined. I imagined what it would be like to catch you. To chase you through those trees, down that path. To have you there, in your element.”
I duck behind a stack of crates, pressing myself into the shadows. He's close. He has to be close.
“Of all the places I watched you, I thought you were the most beautiful when you looked at art, or when you created it. But you were also so beautiful when you were begging to be chased.”
His voice is moving now, circling me. Hunting me. And as he speaks, I feel a dark, unbidden spike of arousal, adrenaline pumping through my veins as I crouch there. I’ve never felt more like prey… and a part of me wants to be caught.
To find out what the wolf will do when he gets his mouth on me again.
God, what's wrong with me?
"I know you, Mara. I know you better than anyone. I know what you want, what you need, what you're afraid to admit even to yourself."
All my effort to be quiet and stealthy vanishes. I move faster, desperate to get away from his voice, from the truth in his words. I round a corner and see a door, partially hidden behind more crates. An exit.
I bolt, a deer fleeing from a hunter, a mouse fleeing from a cat, not bothering to try to hide the sound of my steps any longer. I’m a foot from it, so close that I can see the rust patterns in the metal, when an arm wraps around my waist and yanks me backwards.
I’m hauled back against a solid chest, the scent of Ilya’s cologne and his warm skin filling my senses. I scream and struggle, kicking and twisting, but his grip is iron, inescapable.
"Caught you," Ilya whispers in my ear, and I can hear the satisfaction in his voice.
"No!" I'm still fighting, still trying to break free, but he just holds me tighter, his other arm coming up to pin my arms against my sides as he brings me down to the floor, rolling me onto my back and hovering over me as his knee wedges between my thighs, his weight pinning me down.
"The game is over, Mara. I won."
"Let me go!" My voice is shrill with panic—not just panic over being caught, but of the inevitable surrender that’s coming. "You said—you said if I escaped?—"
"If you escaped. But you didn't." In the dim light, I can see his eyes, dark and intense and hungry. "You're mine now. Those were the rules."
"I don't accept—" I protest weakly, knowing there’s no point. My heart is thudding in my chest, my palms tingling with adrenaline… and I’m wet. I can feel it between my thighs. I can feel the second heartbeat of my arousal pulsing there, anticipating everything he might do to me.
"You already accepted when you agreed to play. Now you pay the price."
"What do you want?" I whisper.
"I want to watch you." His voice is low, rough with desire. "I've watched you for months, but always from a distance. Always through windows or cameras. Now I want to watch you up close. I want to see what you look like when you touch yourself. When you give yourself pleasure."
Desire crawls over my skin, shame and fear twisting my stomach. “No,” I protest, my voice trembling.
"Yes." He looms over me, his icy gaze turning molten with arousal. "That's what I want, Mara. That's the price of the game. You touch yourself while I watch. You show me what you look like when you come. And then—" he pauses, his eyes burninginto mine, "—then I'll take every part of your body that belongs to me."
“I won’t do it.” I tilt my chin up, glaring at him, still trying to fight as every molecule of my body begs me to give in. To take the endless pleasure he’s offering me.
