Page 95

Bryn: And? You think someone might be out there?

I wonder where she is going with this.

Bryn: I just thought if you were nearby …

A corner of my mouth lifts.

Ash: Yes?

Bryn: Thought you might want to follow me

The words stir something deep and instinctive inside me.

Protectiveness. Possessiveness. Darkness.

Ash: Where will you be running?

A second later, an address pops up on my screen. I recognise the area. It’s the beginning of the woods on the edge of town. I don’t hesitate. I make a sharp turn at the next intersection, the engine growling as I accelerate.

Ash: Start running. Let’s see how far you make it before I catch you

I can almost feel the way her pulse would jump on reading that.

Ash: When I catch you, you’re not leaving until I’m done with you

Bryn: Then I guess you better hurry …

My grip tightens on the wheel, adrenaline sharpening my senses. She has no idea what she does to me. I turn into the street slowly, my headlights sweeping across parked cars until I spot hers near the entrance to the trail that cuts into the trees. I swing into a park, killing the headlights immediately. The night wraps around me, cool and still. For a second, I just listen to the wind rustling the leaves, and then I hear footsteps, light and quick. I step onto the path, scanning the area. She mustn’t have gotten very far yet. She probably didn’t realise how close I was.

Up ahead, I catch sight of her: black leggings; oversized hoodie; hair pulled back, swinging behind her as she runs. She looks over her shoulder once and when her eyes land on mine, a slow smile pulls at my mouth. I start jogging. Her pace quickens. The smack of my footsteps grows louder. She glances back again and when she realises how easily I’m closing the distance, her shoulders tense, her stride faltering for half a second before she pushes harder.

She runs faster, but I don’t. I want to wait this out. I let her think she’s gaining something. Let her believe the distance means control. I keep my pace steady and unhurried, my shoes striking the ground in an even rhythm that doesn’t waver. I don’t need to sprint. I know exactly how this ends. Her breathing grows louder in the quiet night – sharper, more urgent. She glances back again, checking the gap. I hold her gaze when she does.

In the moonlight her shadow stretches long across the path, and mine swallows it slowly, inch by inch. It’s late, almost two in the morning, and the world feels empty except for us. I could close the distance now, but I decide against it. I want her breathless, and her pulse racing from more than just the run. I lengthen my stride instead, narrowing the gap. Twenty feet. Now ten.

She’s breathing harder now, the sound carrying on the still night air. When she dares to look back again, I’m close enough that her eyes widen slightly before that familiar smirk curves her mouth. I surge forward and catch her around the waist, my momentum spinning her lightly off balance. She laughs as I pull her back against me, both of us slightly winded.

‘Not bad,’ I murmur near her ear, tightening my grip just enough to make my point. ‘You almost made me try.’

Her pulse is racing beneath my hand. So is mine.

Turning her slowly to face me, I keep one arm firm around her waist. Only the glow of the moon lights us, casting shadows across her face. She’s flushed from the run, her lips parted and eyes bright.

‘You didn’t really think I wouldn’t catch you,’ I say quietly.

She lets out a shaky laugh, still breathless. ‘Maybe I thought I could outrun you,’ she murmurs, though her smirk betrays her.

I let my hand linger at her neck, my thumb tracing the delicate curve of her throat. The night air smells faintly of pine and damp earth. The heat radiating off Bryn makes it hard to think straight.

‘You can try all you want,’ I reply, a teasing edge to my voice. ‘But you’re not leaving. Not until I say so.’

Her eyes flick down to my grip then back up to mine, and I see the spark – the mixture of challenge and excitement – that never fails to thrill me.

‘Is that supposed to scare me?’ she teases.

I tighten my arm slightly, enough to make the point without hurting her.

‘It’s not supposed to scare you,’ I whisper, leaning just close enough that my breath fans across her lips. ‘It’s supposed to make you remember: I get what I want.’