He curls his arm around me and pulls me close. “Get whatever thoughts you have out of your head. Because chances are you’re wrong.”
I roll my eyes, and he pinches my ass.
“Don’t tell me what to think.”
“I will, when it’s whatever made you crease your eyebrows like that.” He runs a finger between them, and our eyes clash.
“Fine, you can tell me not to do that. That’s acceptable.”
“Good,” he replies and then kisses me softly. It’s tender, sweet even, and my body gives off the scent of a peach. He must smell it because he sighs happily, licking into my mouth. I can’t do anything but accept it.
When we finally part, his forehead hits mine, and he breathes me in.
“What do you have in your hand?” he asks. “You’ve held it this entire time.”
I don’t want to tell him, but I have to. A white lie never hurt anyone, right?
“Just a gift from an old friend. He gave it to me. It calms me.”
“Can I see it?”
I hold my palm open, and he stares down at it. “A Petoskey stone. Cool.”
“Yeah. It’s…special.”
“Thanks for showing it to me.”
“You’re welcome.” And then I kiss him, to keep him from asking any more questions, to keep me from lying to his face.
When his knot finally slips free of me, I slide off his lap and lounge on the couch. He makes me a hot cup of tea, and the rain is finally subsiding to a light drizzle.
“Do you ever think of that night?” I ask, and I hear a mug clatter.
“Of course I do.”
“Me too.” I pause, my mind moving to how good it felt that he singled me out, chased me, claimed me. I didn’t want to leave that night. I wanted to stay, but I knew I couldn’t. I can never stay.
I shake my head, forcing my mind off it. “You gonna do it again?”
I hear the kettle being filled and placed on the stove before he answers. “The Heat Hunt? Maybe. Although I didn’t get my money’s worth, seeing as you left.”
I lean up and meet his gaze over the couch. I can see the hurt in his eyes for a moment before his pupils dilate.
“Maybe I should make it up to you. Give you a better chase.”
My eyes slip to the door, and his nostrils flare.
“Don’t you fucking dare. There are Howlers out there.”
I sit up even further. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
“I fucking will.”
But I’m not listening. I’m running, my feet skittering across the floor as I fling the door open, the rock in my palm, my arms pumping as I rush down the stairs and into the adjoining woods.
Mud slaps against my bare legs, the sprinkling rain coating my skin. My heart is in my throat, adrenaline coursing through me. But more than that is anticipation. Of getting caught, getting taken right here on the Earth’s floor. Just like it used to be.
I hear him running behind me, leaves and twigs cracking under his feet. I want to look back, want to see that strong body chasing after me, but I don’t. Because it will slow me down, and this whole thing will be over.
