Page 13 of After the Chase

"You're aroused," he observes.

"So are you."

He doesn't deny it. Instead, he kisses me deeply, full of hunger. Yes…this is what I want. He is understanding what I am and what I'll always do to shield what's mine. And he wants it. More than that, he’s beginning to crave it.

He wants me.

He wants the darkness.

Completely.

CHAPTER THREE

CHASE

Three Weeks Later - Queenstown, New Zealand

The mountains here don't just rise, theyeruptfrom the earth like the bones of something ancient and holy. I'm standing on the deck of our rented house, coffee cooling in my hands, watching the Remarkables catch the morning light. The peaks glow rose-gold against a sky so blue it hurts to look at directly. Below, Lake Wakatipu stretches like a mirror, reflecting clouds and mountains and the impossible clarity of this place. I've never seen anything like it.

We've been traveling for months now, Paris, Barcelona, Prague, Italy, but New Zealand feels different. It feelsfresh. Remote. Like we've reached the edge of the world where no one can find us, where the past doesn't exist, a place Noah and I can simplybe.

Except that's not true, is it? Because the past follows us everywhere. Or more accurately, Noah creates it wherever we go.

I take a sip of my coffee and try to focus on the beauty in front of me. The silver beech forests that climb the mountainsides. The way the light changes every few minutes, painting the landscape in different shades of green and gold. The silence. I cannot put into words how the silence here is so profound. Nocity noise or crowds. Just the wind and birdsong and the distant sound of water.

I love it here and part of me wishes I could stay forever.

There's a warmth in my chest that's been growing since we arrived three weeks ago. A sense of rightness that has everything to do with what I said to Noah last night.

We'd been sitting by the fireplace where the house has a massive stone hearth that Noah keeps burning even though it's not that cold, and I'd been reviewing my journal entries. Months of compiling notes and observations about Noah's behavior patterns, his emotional responses (or lack thereof), his methodical approach to “problems.

"I've been thinking," I said, not looking up from my notebook. "About writing a book."

Noah was reading something on his tablet, his face illuminated by the screen's glow. He didn't respond immediately, but his silence felt charged, electric.

"A book about psychopathy," I continued, my voice steady despite the flutter of anticipation in my stomach.

"You know, a clinical approach using case studies that are anonymized, of course. I have years of research, and the travel has given me new perspectives on how antisocial personality disorder manifests across different cultures and contexts."

Noah set down his tablet with careful precision. His eyes lifted to meet mine, like he was trying to scan my brain for further information.

"A book," he repeated, his voice soft, which is not a good sign.

"Yes. I think it could be important work. There's so much misunderstanding about…"

"No."

The single word landed like a whip. I looked at him fully then, trying to read his expression. His face was perfectly still,but there was something in his eyes that gave an intensity that made my pulse spike with desire rather than fear.

"Noah, it wouldn't be about you specifically. I'd never do anything to compromise you."

"No," he said again, and this time there was a dark tone in it. "You're not writing a book, Chase. You're not publishing your observations or sharing anything about what you've seen or what you think you understand."

"I'm a therapist. This is my field…"

"You were a therapist." He stood, moving toward me with that stalking grace that always makes my body respond. "Now you're my husband, and my husband doesn't document me like I'm a fucking case study."

He was right in front of me now, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body, smell his skin, feel the magnetic pull of his presence. His hand came up to cup my jaw possessively, giving me exactly what I craved.