Page 17 of Pounded in the Patch
Behind me, I hear his low chuckle echo through the fog.
And then the hunt begins again.
CHAPTER 5
INTO DARKNESS
Seraphina
Irun through the patch, my boots silent on the soft earth as I navigate between the glowing jack-o'-lanterns. This section feels different from where we were before—the pumpkins here are larger, their carved faces more menacing than the others. The fog is thicker too, swirling around my legs and making it impossible to see more than a few feet ahead.
There has to be a way out.
But I'm starting to doubt myself. Every path I take seems to curve back on itself, leading me in circles through the field of tangled vines and pumpkins. Every time I think I've found a route toward the forest, it dead-ends in a cluster of particularly terrifying jack-o'-lanterns or curves back toward the center where he tasted me.
Behind me, I can hear him moving through the field. He's not rushing this time, showing me he’s not feeling desperate. Instead, he's stalking me with the confidence of an apex predator.
I change direction, heading toward what I think is the perimeter of the field. The fog is so thick here that the jack-o'-lanterns seem to float in empty space, their glowing faces appearing and disappearing like something out of a nightmare.
Focus. You need to focus and find a way out of here.
But it's hard to focus when my body is still buzzing from his touch. I can still feel his hands on my skin, his tongue on my clit. The memory makes the ache return between my thighs, and I hate myself for it.
What is wrong with me? He kidnapped me.
But I know it's more complicated than that. Because I didn't fight him, not really. And when he made me come—twice—I didn't just endure it. I participated. I arched into his touch and moaned and begged for more with my body if not my words.
Stop thinking about it. Just focus on getting out of here.
I round another pumpkin and find myself face-to-face with a dead end—three enormous jack-o'-lanterns arranged in a semicircle, their carved faces grinning at me in the fog. And they're blocking the only path forward.
Damn it.
I turn to backtrack and freeze. He's standing at the mouth of the pathway, silhouetted against the glow of the jack-o'-lanterns behind him. Even in the fog, I can see the victory in his posture, the way he's watching me like I'm exactly where he wanted me to be.
"Such a clever girl," he says, his voice carrying clearly through the still air. A wolf howls in the distance behind him. "But not clever enough to escape me."
I back against the carved pumpkins, their rough leaves and vines catching on my costume. "Please," I whisper the plea. "I don't understand why I’m here."
"I want you to stop hiding from who you are," he says, and there’s a hint of frustration in his voice now. "I want you to stop fighting what you clearly want."
"I don't want this," I protest, but my voice shakes with uncertainty. “This is crazy.”
"Your mouth keeps saying that," he murmurs, reaching me and pressing one hand against the pumpkin beside my head. "But your body is begging to be touched." He leans in, and I can feel the heat radiating off his body. “To be tasted.” His voice dips with his head. “To befucked.”
My pulse is racing, and the ache between my thighs gets worse. It’s almost painful now.Fuck, I'm getting turned on again.
This can't be normal. This isn’t how normal people react to being kidnapped.
"Look at you," he says, his free hand tracing the line of my throat. "Everything about your body is screaming for me." His fingers trail lower, drifting over my stomach. "The way you press your thighs together to relieve the ache. The way you hold your head back, exposing your throat to me. They way I know your pussy is already dripping for me again."
Oh god.
"You don’t know anything about me," I whisper, holding his heated gaze.
"Mmm,” he looks me up and down, biting at his bottom lip. “Let's find out."
This time I don't even pretend to fight when his hands slide up my thighs, hiking my skirt over my hips and out of the way.
