Page 146 of Swallow Your Sorries

“Fifteen seconds. That’s all I’m giving you to fly. If I catch you, I’ll spear you. Understood?

Another little nod, then she’s scrambling to her knees, then her feet.

The exterior door to the building slams shut a second later.

Elle

None of this was a part of the plan, but fuck it, I’ll circle back to it later.

The aftershocks of my orgasms are still pulsing through me as I sprint from the studio and into the night air, my duffel bag flapping wildly at my hip as adrenaline surges through me.

Gant is right.

There is something primal, feral inside of me when it comes to him.

I like the chase.

I like his blunt, filthy talk.

And I like the way he touches me. The way he makes my soul want to vacate my body before it slams right back in.

I spin around and my ponytail whips me in the face from the force as I search frantically for a place to run. A place to hide.

The thing is, I want to be found.

And I only want Gant to catch me. Not the prowling security guards waiting for curfew in ten minutes.

The wind howls, and a chill runs down my spine as I look at the swaying treetops of the forest. In the dark, their branches extend towards me eerily like broken fingers, and yet I find a thrilling comfort at the thought of running into their embrace.

I’m losing it. Gant’s making me lose it as I run toward the forest line and the crunching sound of my trainers against Beaulieu’s pristine lawn transitions to muted thuds against the dark earth.

The more the wind howls in my ear, the faster my heart beats as I run through the speckled moonlight and towards a small clearing where I can see the full moon in its entirety.

It’s especially gorgeous tonight—bright silver and full and calling all the wolves.

I freeze, grabbing onto a tree trunk to steady myself and my breathing. Are there wolves in this forest?

Or just Gant?

He certainly could be classified as one.

I move three sixty around the trunk, glancing over my shoulder on every other step for signs of him. But I’m all alone.

Or so I think for a few nerve-wracking seconds because then, I hear him.

Grasping the trunk tighter, I press myself flat and try to listen over my racing heart. His muted steps are coming from my left…

No, my right.

No…

Goosebumps break out across my skin as I wait. As reality sinks in and my adrenaline that’s been balancing like a seesaw plummets, I plunge into pure fear.

What the fuck am I doing?

I can see a sliver of Maple House peeking between the trees and my head yells at me to run towards it. But my heart has eyes of its own and they’re zoning in on something else hiding amongst the vines behind me.

The old greenhouse.

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