Page 6 of Pounded in the Patch
He did all of this.
Forme.
But I can’t understand why.
"Welcome to your nightmare, night monster," he murmurs against my ear, his breath warm against the fake blood on my neck. "I hope you're ready to play."
Play.
He called this playing.
What kind of game requires an elaborate field of jack-o'-lanterns in the middle of a forest?
What kind of game starts with kidnapping?
As he carries me deeper into the impossible wonderland he's created, as the fog swirls around us like it’s alive and the jack-o'-lanterns are watching us with their carved eyes, I realize that everything I thought I knew about my life has just been shattered.
This is really happening.
This is actually happening to me.
And I have no idea how it's going to end.
CHAPTER 2
THE HUNT BEGINS
Luke
She has no idea how long I've been planning this night, and watching her small, helpless form curled on my back seat fills me with a satisfaction so deep it's almost wrong. Like I'm a god who's finally claimed his most perfect creation.
I glance in the rearview mirror as I navigate the final winding curves of the forest road, drinking in every exquisite detail of the woman who belongs to me. Even bound and unconscious, she's breathtaking in that vampire costume she chose so carefully—for me, whether she consciously knew it or not. The fake blood from her makeup has smeared across her pale throat during the drive, and her dark auburn hair with that striking white streak fans across the leather like spilled wine. She looks stunning, too pure for this world, and tonight I'm going to corrupt her so thoroughly she'll never want to leave me.
My night monster. My obsession. My beautiful, brilliant addiction that I've spent endless time and money to possess.
I grin beneath my devil mask as I check my watch—10:47 PM. Perfect timing, just as I planned. The fog machines activated automatically twenty minutes ago based on the GPS trigger I installed, and by now the entire patch should be shrouded in that ethereal mist that will make everything feel like stepping into another world entirely.
Her world. The world I built specifically for her.
My hands tighten on the steering wheel as anticipation courses through me like a drug I've been mainlining for fifteen months. Fifteen months of planning, of obsessing over every little detail, and it all comes down to the next few hours. I've thought through every possible scenario so many times I could execute this plan in my sleep. I've run contingencies for weather, for equipment failure, for almost anything. I have backup plans for my backup plans, because failure is not an option when it comes to her.
Neverwhen it comes to her.
But there's still that familiar nervous energy thrumming beneath my skin—the same feeling I used to get before hostile takeovers, except this is infinitely more important than any business deal I've ever orchestrated. This is about claiming what's mine and proving that some men don't just love.
They possess.
They consume.
And they can mold the world in service of their obsession.
This is about her, and us, and showing her that I will literally tear down mountains and rebuild forests to own every piece of her soul. She just doesn’t know she’s mine yet.
The memory of the conversation that sparked all of this is burned into my mind, replaying in perfect detail every single day for fifteen months. We'd been curled together in bed after I'd fucked her so thoroughly she could barely speak, her body still trembling against my chest while rain drummed against the windows. She'd just finished reading some erotic horror novel—Carving for Cara—and when she was telling me about it—fuck—I couldn’t help but notice how breathless and needy she was, desperately trying to hide the darkness that book awakened in her.
But I saw it.
Does she even remember? Details of a one night stand are always hard to recall…
