Page 17
“This way,” I manage between breaths, leading her through a particularly dense patch of forest. “Stay in the shadows.”
She follows without argument, her trust in my direction sending an inappropriate surge of warmth through my chest. She trusts me. Her footsteps behind me are swift and sure, keeping pace with mine without faltering.
“You were always so fast,” I say without thinking, the words tumbling out between gasps for air. “You still are.”
Her pace falters for a split second, and when I glance back, her eyes are wide with confusion, brows furrowed as if trying to solve a complex equation.
“How did you know I—” she starts, but the question dies as a branch cracks loudly behind us, far too close for comfort.
She yanks her hand from mine, her eyes wild with renewed panic. Without another word, we both break into a sprint that would make Olympic athletes jealous, our bodies operating on pure survival instinct and adrenaline now. My height gives me a longer stride, but makes me an easier target, whereas Vivian’s natural running ability keeps her right beside me, her auburn curls streaming behind her like a battle flag.
The terrain slopes downward, and I catch the unmistakable sound of rushing water ahead. We’re back at the river. My breath comes in painful gasps now, sweat drenching my shirt despite the cool night air. Behind us, the sounds of pursuit continue—methodical, relentless, fucking terrifying.
“River,” I manage to wheeze out, pointing ahead where I can just make out the glint of moonlight on water. “Let’s cross it.”
We break through the treeline at the river’s edge, both of us skidding to a halt at the sight of the dark, rushing water. It’s not wide—maybe fifteen feet across—but in the moonlight, it looks like a bottomless abyss.
“We can’t,” Vivian pants, her eyes wide with fear. “I can’t—”
“Together,” I tell her, grabbing her hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “It’s not deep. Trust me.”
I don’t wait for her to respond, pulling her forward with me into the icy water. The shock of cold hits me so hard, my cock shrinks and my legs spasm, stealing what little breath I have left. The water rises quickly to our knees, the current tugging at our legs with greedy fingers.
“Fuck, that’s cold!” Vivian yelps, her voice an octave higher than usual. Despite everything, I find myself smiling at the sound. She’s fucking adorable.
We wade through the water, each step requiring all my concentration not to slip on the slick rocks beneath. Halfway across, Vivian stumbles, and I catch her around the waist, holding her against me for a moment longer than strictly necessary.
“I’ve got you,” I murmur against her ear, the words barely audible over the rush of water. Her body is warm against mine despite our soaked clothes, and for a heartbeat, I forget we’re being pursued by a masked psychopath.
We reach the other side, dragging ourselves up the muddy bank, our clothes dripping and clinging to our bodies like second skins. Without pausing to catch our breath, we plunge back into the forest, putting as much distance between us and the river as possible.
We run until my legs feel like they’re made of lead, until each breath is a knife in my lungs, until even Vivian—cross-country runner extraordinaire—is staggering with exhaustion. Finally, when I’m certain I can’t take another step, I slow to a stop, leaning against a massive tree trunk for support. Vivian collapses beside me, her chest heaving as she gulps down air.
For several minutes, we say nothing, both of us focused on the simple act of breathing. I strain my ears for any sound of pursuit, but it’s only the distant rush of the river and the natural sounds of the night forest.
“This,” Vivian finally gasps, gesturing weakly at the dense forest surrounding us, “is not where we should have run toward. We’re even deeper in the fucking woods now.”
I drag a hand down my face, wiping away sweat and river water. “While I appreciate the navigational criticism,” I pant, “the masked psycho would have between us and the car as soon as he exited the cabin. So pardon me if I wanted to keep you”—I catch myself—“us safe.”
She glares at me, but something else is in her eyes—a grudging respect, maybe, or just the acknowledgment that I’m right. Either way, it sends a shiver of pleasure through me that has no place in our current situation.
“Great,” she mutters, wringing water from the hem of her orange shirt. “So now we’re lost, soaking wet, cold as fuck, and still being hunted. Your bucket list fantasy night just keeps getting better and better.”
“Dark romance bucket list and I didn’t expect a psychopath to be on the prowl.”
Despite everything—the terror, the exhaustion, the complete derailment of my carefully planned seduction—I smile at her sass. Even now, drenched and disheveled and scared out of her mind, Vivian Jackson is exactly the woman I’ve been obsessed with for twenty years.
“At least we’re together,” I say, the words coming out far more sincerely than I intended.
She rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue the point. Instead, she drops her head against the tree trunk, our shoulders touching in a way that feels like both an accident and a deliberate choice.
Chapter 8
Andrew
I like dominant Women and I cannot lie
As we sit side by side against the massive tree trunk, our breathing finally slows from desperate gasps to something resembling normal. My lungs burn and my back hurts. Our clothes stick to our skin, river water, mud, and sweat mingling to leave us both shivering despite the exertion. I glance over at Vivian, her profile etched in silver, and something twists in my chest—a feeling so powerful it momentarily drowns out my fear of the masked freak hunting us through these woods.
