Something coils inside me—a darkness I’ve always channeled into art instead of action.
“What does it make me,” I whisper, “that I’m still drawn to you? That even now, knowing everything, I’m sick with wanting you?”
His mouth crashes into mine before I canfinish my thought, consuming the confession like oxygen. This is primitive desperation—teeth scraping my lips, fingers digging into my scalp, breath coming in ragged bursts against my skin.
I taste blood—mine or his, I can’t tell—as his tongue forces its way past my lips. My back slams against the log wall. The pain radiates down my spine, but I don’t push him away. Something primal clicks into place as my fingers claw at his shoulders, pulling him closer even as my brain screams to run.
He breaks away, eyes wild and unfocused. “You’re perfect,” he pants, hands shaking as they move to my blouse.
The sound of fabric tearing fills the cabin—buttons pinging against the wooden floor as he rips my blouse down the middle. Cold air hits my bare skin, and I gasp, crossing my arms instinctively.
“Don’t,” he growls, pinning my wrists above my head with one hand. His eyes travel down my exposed chest, lingering on the marks he left days ago, now faded to sickly yellow-green shadows.
He releases me suddenly, backing away. I stand frozen, half-naked, as he reaches for the spiked mask on the table.
“We’re going to play a game,” he says, voice transforming as he slips the leather over his face. The warm amber candlelight catches on each metal protrusion, turning the mask into something from medieval nightmares.
“I don’t want to play,” I whisper, but my body betrays me again—pulse quickening.
He notices. Of course he notices.
“Five minutes,” he says through the mask. “You run. Ihunt.” He gestures toward the cabin door. “Woods all around us. No neighbors for miles.”
“And if I refuse?”
The mask tilts. “You won’t. You’ve been craving this chaos your entire life.”
“This isn’t?—”
“Run.” The word slices through the air, his body tensing like a predator. “Or I start now.”
The door slams behind me as I burst outside, cold air hitting my bare chest like a physical blow. I clutch the torn edges of my blouse together, stumbling down rough-hewn steps. Moonlight filters through pine branches, casting long shadows across unfamiliar ground.
Run. Just run.
My lungs burn with each breath as I plunge into the darkness between trees. Branches claw at my hair, pine needles stab my bare feet. I didn’t even grab my shoes. The woods swallow me whole—black silhouettes against starlight, the ground a treacherous terrain of roots and fallen branches.
Yet beneath the terror, something else pulses. Heat spreads through my core even though it makes no rational sense. My heart hammers against my ribs, but not just from fear.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I weave between massive pines, trying to put distance between us while straining to hear if he’s pursuing me yet. Nothing but my own ragged breathing and the soft crunch of forest floor beneath my feet. The silence terrifies me more than noise would.
Pausing behind a broad trunk, I press my spine against rough bark and try to control my breathing. The moonbathes everything in silver, turning familiar objects alien. I scan the darkness, looking for movement.
That’s when I see him.
Standing at the edge of the tree line, perfectly still. The mask transforms him into something ancient and terrible—spikes creating a crown of thorns around his jaw. But it’s his eyes that freeze my blood—visible even at this distance, gleaming with manic intensity. Predatory. Hungry.
Watching.
A sound escapes my throat—half-whimper, half-moan. My knees weaken as fear and arousal collide in a confusing cocktail of chemicals flooding my system. My nipples harden against the cold night air, my pulse throbbing between my legs.
He tilts his head slowly, the gesture inhuman behind that terrible mask, and I know he sees me.
I should be running—faster, harder, away—but my feet are glued to the ground. My heart gallops, and not just from exertion.
I hate this. I hate him. I hate myself more.
