Page 77 of The Reckoning
I lean into her face and finish the sentence she can’t seem to speak out loud. “We get to do whatever we want with you…”
“Are you asking to chase me? Both of you? Together.”
“We sure are,” Arson replies, nipping at her earlobe.
I can’t help the feral grin that spreads across my face. “The way I see it, right now, Arson has had you more than me, and he took what I wanted for myself. I’m still a bit salty over it, so I’m going to claim the only virgin hole left, your ass.”
“That is, unless I catch you first,” Arson chimes in.
“Which isn’t going to happen,” I growl, my gaze cutting to him before skirting back to Lilian. “So…you run…and we’ll chase. Whoever captures you first gets the privilege.”
Her eyes narrow, and she licks her lips, her pulse fluttering hard in her neck. “And if neither of you catches me?”
I shrug. “Then you can have anything you want. You can haveusany way you want.”
Another gulp, and I can visibly see the arousal growing, her fingers flexing. “When should I run?”
“How about now? We’ll give you a five-minute start,” I announce with a gentleness that doesn’t match the tension and need coursing through my veins.
She squeaks, throws Arson a grin, then rushes past me into the trees.
Arson crosses his arms over his chest. “Is this a good idea? Is it safe?”
“She’ll be fine. The only people out here are us. It won’t take long to find her, and I doubt she’ll put up a fight. She wants this just as bad as we do.”
“Naughty little minx.” Arson purses his lips, and I nod in agreement.
We both want her, and this time, when we have her, it’ll be together.
After five minutes, we wander into the trees to hunt our little rabbit.
Soon enough, I find myself breaking out into a run, the forest blurring around me as I search the area in front of me. My boots sink into the soft earth with each stride, my muscles burning as I push harder. There’s a primalness to the pursuit that strips away civilization, leaving raw instinct in its place.Hunter and hunted.The ancient dance that’s been encoded in our DNA for millions of years.
“Split up,” Arson calls, veering left. “Circle around.”
I nod, cutting right through a dense thicket of brush, thorns tearing at my sleeves. Blood wells from a dozen tiny cuts, but the pain only sharpens my focus. I vault over a fallen log, landing hard, the impact sending shock waves up my legs. I remain upright through the sheer determination and will to find my girl.
A flash of color ahead catches my eye—a scrap of fabric snagged on a bramble. I snatch it up, recognizing the pattern from her shirt.She was meant for us, meant to be hunted and taken. I bring the cotton to my face, inhaling deeply, letting her essence fill my lungs.
A sound—the snap of a twig, followed by a muffled curse, interrupts my thoughts. I smile and change direction, stalking toward the noise with predatory focus. The rain picks up again, fat drops hammering down through the canopy and onto us.
“Why are you running?” I call out, enjoying the game now despite the urgency. “Isn’t this what you wanted? Both of us. Together.”
There’s a rustle to my left—she’s changing direction, trying to throw me off.
Smart, but futile. I’m too attuned to her now, too connected. I adjust my course accordingly, cutting diagonally through a stand of young pines.
“There’s nowhere for you to run. We aren’t leaving these woods without you, and no obstacle or person will stop us from making you ours. Not even you.” Arson’s voice comes from somewhere to the east, completing our pincer movement.
Her pace quickens, panic giving her a burst of speed. The sound of her footfalls grows louder, more careless. She’s abandoned stealth for pure flight now, crashing through the underbrush like a wounded deer.
“Liliannnn...” I call out, taunting.
I want her to be frantic when I reach her. Just like that day outside my cell. I push harder, faster, my heart hammering against my bruised ribs. The distance between us shrinks with every pounding footstep. I break through a screen of ferns and pause, the air in my lungs evaporating the moment I catch sight of her. There she is—just twenty yards ahead, weaving between trees, her golden hair wild and tangled with leaves and twigs.
The sight of her hits me like a physical blow. She’s magnificent in her desperation, all instinct and survival and raw life.
“Lilian,” I shout, my voice breaking with emotion. “We’ve got you now!”
