I’m so busy looking around that I don’t see the branch hanging over the path. My dress catches on it, the knotted wood tearing at the silver sequins. The sound of it feels loud enough to split the night.
It slows me down to a stop. I pull the fabric free.
And then I hear footsteps.
They’re slow and steady. Completely unhurried.
Of course they are. He’s not running, he’s stalking.
The lion hunts while the deer scrambles. And I’m the deer right now. All gangly legs and wide eyes, my head turning from left to right.
A shadow in the trees catches my eye. I think it moves. Or maybe it’s my imagination.
The bastard’s toying with me. Drawing it out. Letting me feel the chase.
My pulse is a drumbeat in my throat. I spin again, the torn edge of my dress brushing my thighs, cool air licking at my skin.
“Zach,” I whisper, though I know he won’t answer. That’s not how this works.
I’m so stupidly scared and turned on I can’t think straight. Can’t decide where to go, what to do. I’m prey caught in the headlamps, except it’s completely dark.
And I’m not alone. I know that because the next moment a low, rough voice cuts through the musty air.
“Look at you, looking so beautiful right now.”
I let out a squeal at the sound of his voice. Oh god, I’m a complete mess. My hair must be full of twigs, my feet are dusty, and my dress is torn.
“Zach?” I say again.
“Run all you like. You know you’re mine. And I’m going to make you feel it in every inch of your body.”
Oh, he’s playing again. Even if he sounds completely serious. The weight of his words press against my core in the most delicious of ways.
And then he steps out, onto the path, and I let out a soft scream.
He’s all in black. His face is masked, his eyes shadowed by the trees.
Jesus, he’s intimidating.
That’s when I remember I’m supposed to run. Or at least make a damn effort.
Something inside of me breaks loose. My feet move before I can think, the hem of my dress tearing wider as I bolt forward into the dark, my thighs starting to burn at the effort, along with my lungs.
Thud, thud, thud. The steady sound of him running after me gets closer. My breath catches, my eyes widen.
A steady pulse thrums between my legs. Making me ache for him.
“It’s kind of sweet,” he calls out, his voice way too close for comfort. “That you think you can get away from me.”
“Leave me alone,” I shout out. Half instinct, half playing.
“You really want me to?” His voice is thick. The bastard isn’t even breathless. “You know how to stop this, beautiful.”
Yes, I do. And I don’t want to.
I want him to catch me. I want him to touch me.
I want him to do all the things I know I’ll never have after tonight.
