Page 29 of Hunted Bride

I sprint to the gate and let myself out. Once I’m on the other side, I shove a stick into the latch to make it harder for Rion to open it. Then I run into the hillside, giggling.

Out here, there are no manicured trees and careful landscaping. It’s rugged terrain dotted with shrubs that don’t get enough water to grow beyond tangled knots of exposed roots. I hug the shadows, keeping to the spindly, stubborn trees. The lighting is poor. I can’t hear him following me. I slow down, breathing hard, and glance back, searching for my pursuer.

Instantly, my foot catches on a stone, and I go sprawling in the dirt. My glasses go flying.

Hurried footsteps approach. I roll over and sit up to examine my bloody palms. A skinned knee and dirt stains complete the picture. So much for continuing our sexy primal play beneath the night sky. I’m an indoor kitten, clearly.

“Are you alright?” he asks, crouching at my side. Big enough to block out the moon in the sky overhead.

“I will be.” I wipe my hands on my skirt. “What, you’re not tackling me into the dirt?”

“Not this time.” He pulls me into his arms and lifts me. Trustingly, I put one arm around my neck. This feels so right.

“I can walk,” I insist.

“But I’m not going to let you.”

“Are you going to ask me to marry you?” I want to be asked. I want to leave him dangling on the precipice of a possible no. He likes to exert control. I like giving it up—when it suits me.

“I don’t have a ring,” he demurs.

“You don’t need a ring to propose. It’s only a question. Doesn’t need a prop.”

He turns his head to glare at me. I’m struck again by how handsome he is. He looks like one of Alisa’s model-slash-actor friends.

“I beg to differ. When I get down on one knee, it’ll be the right way. Give me this much, Mia. I’ve done everything else wrong. I never thought our families would allow me to have you. You just learned my name this evening, but I would be honored if you’d be my bride. I swear I’ll spend the rest of our lives making up for the way I⁠—”

“Stalked me?” I interrupt. He winces.

“I hate that word. Can we say watched over you?”

“If that’s what you want to call it. I liked knowing you were out there, Rion. No one has ever seen me the way you do. All my faults—and lord knows I have them—all my weird quirks⁠—”

“Your quirks are the best part.”

“Not everyone thinks so.”

“I think so. My opinion is the only one that matters.”

We reach the gate. He sets me down to unlatch it, which requires two hands. On the other side of the fence, I put myself right in his path and cup his face. “You’re still covered in glitter.”

He chuckles. “Whose fault is that?”

“It was a good hit,” I grin.

“I have no doubt you’d be a ferocious slugger swinging a baseball bat at a man’s head.”

I shudder. That’s the kind of detail from the bratva world that I really don’t want to know about. “Rion?”

“Yes, minx?”

“Kiss me.”

“I’d forgotten I could.” He lowers his face to mine.

The next forty-eight hours are a whirlwind. So many things have changed, I can hardly wrap my head around it.

I have a boyfriend. A serious one. My parents immediately floated the idea of a double wedding. Rion shut that down with his typical wit.