Rick points away from the car. “Run!” He barks loud enough for the sound to carry my way on the evening air. She hesitates, but only for a moment, trotting off in the direction in which he pointed. I follow, careful to avoid making too much noise at first. I want this to unfold slowly, so I can’t show my hand too early.
I can tell her heart’s not in it. She’s putting this on for show, pretending to run, looking over her shoulder with every other step. Almost like she’s looking to see who’s watching, to see whether she’s giving a good performance. I deliberately step on a thick branch lying on the ground, and the satisfying cracking noise that results makes her jump. When she takes off again, she’s moving faster.
I have the high ground, another benefit of knowing this land and all of its many features. She’s coming up on a thin stream that cuts across the southern corner of the property. Her head swings back and forth as she decides which way to go. Should she follow the stream, or should she cross it? Already she’s winded, doubling over with her hands on her knees to catch her breath.
I pick up the nearest rock and throw it into the stream not far from where she’s standing. The splash makes her jump, and she takes off running again, following the path of the water. The ridge I’m standing on ends in another few hundred feet, so I have no choice but to make my way down the slope and follow her on lower ground.
She would never do well in an actual hunt; that much is for certain. She’s sloppy, leaving a trail it takes no effort to follow. I can hear her up ahead, breathing heavy, like she’s panicking. I laugh loudly enough for her to hear, and her sharp intake of breath tells me she didn’t realize I was so close.
“You’re going to have to be faster than that,” I tell her, keeping my voice low. Menacing. The sound of feet crashing through brush grows louder, more desperate, and floundering. I follow with another laugh.
She crashes through the stream, then to the other side. I follow easily, jumping to the opposite bank with no trouble, now whistling softly as I trail her. “You can run, but you can’t hide,” I call out.
“Why are you doing this?” It’s a breathless question, halfway between a demand and a sob.
“Trust me, Rowan. You don’t want me to find you too quickly. You’d better run.” She does as she’s told, the way she always does, the way I can count on her to do. There’s a fallen tree up ahead, and I watch as she hoists herself over it. I can only imagine her hands smart from the effort, along with the rest of her. That’s nothing compared to what I have in mind tonight.
She stumbles and almost falls, and I deliberately pick up speed, letting her thinkI’m closing in. She scrambles to her feet and darts away, her golden head a beacon in the moonlight as she zigzags between the trees. She’s becoming exhausted, I can tell, thanks to her panic and the physical exertion. Perhaps it would be better to take pity on her and bring this to a close.
Besides, I’m tired of waiting. Anticipation can only take a man so far before he becomes frustrated with it.
With that in mind, I take a long, curved arc, putting distance between us but knowing, in the end, I’m taking a shortcut. Another hundred yards in front of her is an old stone wall marking the southern edge of the property. Most of the wall has long since crumbled, but there’s enough of it to provide a barrier against her moving forward. She can either go left or right. To the left is a mass of overgrown brambles I doubt she would take her chances with even if she wasn’t half out of her mind with panic.
I wait for her by the wall, knowing she’ll come straight to me. She doesn’t disappoint and stumbles in my direction, not a minute after I reach the rocky surface. She can’t see me, too busy looking around over her shoulder, deeper into the woods she only just stumbled out of.
So when I step out in front of her, she has no time to react. She slams into my chest and bounces off, landing on her ass. Before she can get away, I pounce on her, taking her by the arms and hauling her to her feet before locking my arms around her body, holding her fast.
“Gotcha.” I can only laugh as she struggles in my arms, exhausting herself. The worst thing a person can do is try to use their head as a lever when someone has their arms trapped at their sides. It’s completely pointless, and if a person struggles hard enough, they can knock themselves unconscious. Probably not the optimal result.
That’s exactly what she’s doing now. “That’s right,” I whisper in her ear. “Fight all you want. Maybe it will work this time. Maybe you’ll be able to get away from me.” She squirms harder than ever, but all she manages to do is rub against my cock, which was already semi-hard before I caught up to her. I should pull down her pants and fuck her here and now, in the dirt.
I’m not that crazy. And I don’t much enjoy the idea of getting an infection—who knows what’s out here in these woods? So I settle for wrestling her to the ground and pinning her with one knee on her lower back while she grasps and claws at the dirt.
I can’t explain why this excites me the way it does, knowing I have her helpless and completely at my mercy. Knowing she’s mine. For now, at least. She’s mine and only mine, and nothing she will do can change that.
“Fuck you!” she barks when I reach down to brush her hair away from the side of her face. I only want to see her, to take in the sight of her flushed skin, her wide, fear-filled eyes scanning the area like she is expecting someone else to appear.
“It’s just you and me,” I croon. “You might want to consider speaking to me with respect, considering that there’s no one here to help you, no one to save you. It would be much easier if you go along with it, Rowan.”
She responds by kicking out when I touch her ankle. My grip tightens until she whimpers. “That’s right,” I mutter, binding her ankles together using the rope. “You’re going to figure out who’s in charge. It will go better for you if you treat me with a little respect. Maybe I won’t fuck your ass until it bleeds.”
She tries to scramble away with a high, shrill cry, but it’s no use. I’ve already tied her ankles, and now I flip her onto her back. She punches, slaps, and claws at me, and I have to wonder in the back of my mind how much of this is sincere. Whether she’s fighting for my sake or her own. Regardless of the reason, it’s making me harder than ever.
“Every mark you leave on me will be one more mark I leave on you,” I promise as I bind her wrists. She tries in vain to slip out of the rope as I stand, staring down at her. I could just as easily jerk off now, all over her, but that would ruin the fun. Why go to all the trouble of chasing her down while savoring the anticipation only to spike the ball short of the goal line?
The girl is as light as a feather, so it’s easy to lift her and throw her over my shoulder. I find myself whistling happily as I begin the short walk up to the house. It’s more of a cabin, really, though slightly better outfitted than one. I’m not a caveman, regardless of the fact I’m carrying a woman over my shoulder. I enjoy my comforts.
The anticipation builds the closer I get, and by the time I reach the shallow porch, I’m ready to blow a load in my pants. This is going to be a night worth remembering.
Chapter 17
Rowan
Fear builds in my gut as the creaking of a door opening meets my ears. I’m breathing hard, my heart galloping in my chest. Yet I don’t give up fighting—not to appease Lucian but because I’m truly afraid. Afraid of what he’s going to do to me next.
I thought the basement in Purgatory was scary. I had no idea an even scarier place existed. At least at the club, there were other people, and I could hold on to the hope that someone would hear my screams.
Out here, there is nothing for miles. Nobody to hear me scream. For all I know, he could kill me and leave my dead body for the animals. No one would ever find me.
