Page 24 of All Hallows Masque

Cat

Long grass whipped my bare calves as I ran across the moors, the hiss of the wind battling with the roar of the sea throwing itself against the cliffs and my own panicked heartbeat in my throat. It had been two days since the masque, and now someone was chasing me, hunting me. They rustled the grass behind me, their steps slow and prowling, but every time I threw a frantic stare back, there was only the grass and the hill and in the distance, the two opposing manor houses.

Mist hovered in the air, turning the dark moors around me into an enchanted, spectral landscape. There was nowhere to hide with the moon so bright, the stars dancing across the sky, but when I looked back, I was alone. I faced forward again, and heard the rush of a body through the grass, fast in pursuit. My heart quickened, sweat beading on my chest, my back, dripping down my spine. The slow drip of it felt like a fingertip running over my skin and goosebumps burst to life on my arms.

Run, run…A whispering voice joined the wind, sending a visceral shudder through me.

I pushed my legs faster, whipping my head around to search the grass. Nothing. Ghosts—was I being hunted by ghosts? The thought made a small, frightened sound escape my lips. I didn’t think about my creature and how the jaguar could shred a spirit apart. Fear had its grip on me, digging skeletal hands into my body, dimpling my skin, and it refused to release me.

The sea roared louder, casting its waves against the cliffs and, oh god, I was running out of land. Running out of places to run.

Run, run…

I gasped, my whole body quivering so badly that my knees weakened. I was going to fall, either off the edge of the cliff or to the grass. I would be easy prey for the hunter, or I would be dead.

Another desperate glance showed only rolling, grassy hills that shone silver in the moonlight and the manor houses on their lofty mounts, watching impassively as I ran for my life.

Run, run, little bride…

The voice was so close, right by my ear. I screamed and whipped around, losing my footing on the grass. Time slowed as I fell, my heart beating like a panicked bird’s wings, my blood hot with panic, my whole body shivery and alive. Alive with fright and survival and refusal to die quickly or easily. I was no one’s prey.

“Oh, but you are.” That voice; louder and closer and so real that my whole body jerked when I landed in the grass. A solid weight covered me, pressing me flat to my belly in the grass, and every cell came awake, every drop of blood sparked with sudden knowledge, sudden excitement.“Myprey.”

Cruel fingers twisted in my hair and yanked my head back. “Aren’t you?” he demanded, lips brushing my ear.

I twisted to see his face, that cruel, beautiful, familiar face. I didn’t care about the strands of hair that ripped out; they were willing sacrifices in my absolute need to see him. Sharp, golden eyes narrowed in warning. His lips pressed into a dangerous line. Flawless ivory skin clung to features so severe and devastating that I could cut myself on them. Dark swirls of ink told stories of his history, flowing beneath his collar and down his chest, visible through the white shirt he wore unbuttoned.

My eyes stung at the same time a wildfire raged through my body, tears of relief and joy and sheer, overwhelming emotion tracing my cheeks at the same time my skin lit up and begged for touch.

“My prey,” he repeated, jump-starting my heart with eye contact, sudden and intense and all-consuming. “My little bride. My fucking universe.”

“Miz,” I sobbed.

His fingers tightened in my hair, wrenching my face close, and his kiss hit me like a fist to the chest. Claiming and punishing. His teeth sank into my bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, and I jerked against him in response, turning liquid and pliant when I felt the demanding press of his cock against my ass.

“You ran away,” he hissed, as vicious and mean as he’d been when we first met, when he hated me but wanted me so badly he wore his dark-haired, blue-eyed disguise just to kiss me. “You saved my life andyou ran away.”

“I’m coming back,” I promised, gasping when his grip tightened in my hair, bringing tears to my eyes. The sea still thrashed the cliffs, the wind still howled, but that all fell to complete silence when Miz kissed me.

“Youarecoming back,” he snarled between rough kisses, dragging my tongue into his mouth and scraping his teeth down it, hard enough to be a threat. I squirmed, my clit aching,throbbing. “Even if I have to drag you, kicking and screaming. Even if I have to bind your hands and feet in my shadows and throw you over my shoulder. Even if you plead and beg and scream. Even if youcry.You are coming back to me.”

My back arched, and I panted against his lips, so turned on it hurt. “Yes,” I whispered, the stroke of the wind over my sensitised skin enough to make me shudder. “Yes.”

“Dirty fucking girl,” he muttered and released my hair, leaving my scalp pulsing with dull pain. “Getting aroused by me threatening you. I bet you were soaking wet as I chased you, weren’t you?”

I bit the inside of my lip, not wanting to answer that. I’d been afraid, but it wasn’t just fear making my heart fast. Exhilaration and dread—anticipation. I didn’t want to be caught by a vicious ghost, but being chased made me come alive. And being caught? Being caught byMisery?

I arched against him, my ass grazing his cock, and clearly that was answer enough because his low laugh rustled my hair.

Demanding hands grabbed the skirt of my nightgown, and I jumped at the suddenrip,my skin flashing red hot, a squirm in my lower belly. That delicious mix of dread and exhilaration built again, giving me butterflies. It made me so sensitive that I jumped when Miz’s hands met my hips. His firm grip lifted my ass off the ground, leaving the ripped remnants of my gown in the grass as he arranged me the way he wanted and—drove into me without warning.

“Miz!”

A cool hand encircled my neck, adding enough pressure to make my back bow, my inner muscles fluttering around him in a hungry, enthusiastic plea. “Does it hurt, little bride?” he asked with soft, oozing sympathy.

I nodded, gasping as he drove deeper, giving me all of him. And fuck, it did hurt, stretching me so good, the ache, thesudden fullness emptying my mind of every fear and worry. Ghosts and courtiers and gods were all swept from my mind, leaving only gasping pleas and sobs of relief.

“Poor little bride,” he cooed, brushing my hair away from my neck so he could drag his lips down the back, kissing the first ridge of my spine. “But if it hurts, why are you so wet?”

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