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My parents would’ve been kidnapped and possibly tortured if it wasn’t for him. He knew Claire was going to pull something, checked on them to make sure they were safe, and got us up and over there before they could take them. Who knows what Claire would’ve done to them? I don’t believe for a second that they wouldn’t have been left unharmed.
Fuck, he saved them, just like he’s done for me, and for hundreds of others.
Such an idiot.
Finally, my gears shift into autopilot, and I race towards the door. It’ll be like those cheesy romance movies, I assure myself. I’ll swing open the door, and he’ll be standing on the other side, waiting for me because he knew damn well that I was bluffing.
But when I open the door, heart on my sleeve and an apology on my tongue, I find that he’s not waiting for me at all. He’s gone.
I deflate, and my hope fizzles like helium out of a tired balloon.
No, fuck this. The last thing Zade and I are in is a Hallmark movie.
I storm out of the room, down the hallway, and head towards the steps. My feet carry me down too quickly, and in my rush, I nearly face-plant the checkered tiling, the handrail scarcely saving me. I came two inches from having to confront Zade with my front teeth chipped, and that would have been entirely embarrassing.
Like instant karma shit that only God would hex me with.
The front door obnoxiously bangs against the stopper, and before I can get
wiped out by rebounding wood that probably weighs more than I do, I take off down the porch.
There. Just a hint of Zade’s back remains before he completely disappears in the thicket of trees.
“Hey!” I shout, hurrying after him. I get close enough to see his chin tip over his shoulder, only a moment before he takes off into a sprint.
I gasp, affronted by the pure audacity of this man. “Oh, you asshole.”
You deserved that.
“Shut up,” I mutter to myself. I take off after him, and I just know he’s getting a sick enjoyment out of reversing the roles and making me chase after him.
He’s giving me a spoonful of my own medicine, and it tastes like ass.
I’ve gotten faster with all the running I’ve done in the past several months, and my endurance has strengthened. But I’m still no match for Zade. His long legs eat up the dirt ground faster than mine, and I become frustrated as the distance between us grows.
Soon, he disappears altogether, and I slow to a stop, panting heavily and on the verge of tears.
I spin in circles but quickly put a stop to that when I only serve to make myself dizzy. For several minutes, I wallow in my misery while I catch my breath. Tears line the edges of my eyes, and the only person I have to blame is myself.
I may be a little broken right now, but that doesn’t excuse my behavior toward Zade.
Just as I turn to find my way back to Parsons Manor, a twig cracks from behind me.
An ominous feeling rises the hairs on the back of my neck, and my stomach drops. Whirling around, a startled yelp rips from my throat when Zade is right there.
Shock paralyzes me, and before I can muster a word, he’s gripping me by the throat, lifting me, and slamming me into a tree right beside me.
I cry out, disoriented and now breathless as he leeches the oxygen from my lungs, squeezing until I’m sure he’s going to snap my neck. Despite my nails clawing at his hand, he doesn’t relent. Instead, he lifts me higher, and out of desperation, I kick up my legs and curl them around his waist, bowing my back to alleviate some of the pressure.
My body nearly goes through the movements to dislodge his hand from my throat, but I stop myself. Whatever he has to say, whatever he plans to do—I deserve it.
Frankly, I don’t want to escape him.
He’s breathing heavily, and even in the throes of panic, I know it’s purely from excitement. His mouth strays only an inch from mine, his minty toothpaste mingling with leather, spice, and a hint of smoke, the intoxicating aromas clouding my senses. Gradually, his hand tightens, and instinct begins to take over. I thrash against him, but he only presses deeper into me.
“What’s wrong, baby? Didn’t get enough the first time and came back for more?”
I slap at him, my vision beginning to blacken, and I don’t need a mirror to see that my face is tomato red and seconds away from turning purple. Finally, his grip loosens, and I greedily suck in air, though he doesn’t remove his hand.
