Page 3 of Taken in the Tree Farm
I press harder against the wall. The tulle of my dress compresses, but there's so much fabric. I'm not exactly built for stealth.
The footsteps stop.
Silence stretches out, heavy, yet teasing.
"You look so pretty when you run from me."
The deep voice comes from somewhere in the darkness, echoing off the trees. I can't pinpoint the direction. He could be anywhere.
"The way that dress bounces with each step. The way your breath comes in those desperate little gasps."
My throat tightens.Fuck.
"I wonder how long you'll last before those pretty legs give out."
I close my eyes. I need a plan. But which way do I run? Where do I go?
The footsteps resume, circling.
My eyes land on the corner of the gingerbread house. If I can just make it around to the other side?—
A shadow moves at the edge of my vision.
I bolt.
My slippers slip on packed snow but I don't fall, don't stop. Behind me, I hear him move—faster now, but still not sprinting. So he likes to play with his food before he devours it…
The path opens into a wider clearing dotted with candy sculptures—oversized lollipops, peppermint discs the size of serving platters, chocolate kiss shapes taller than me. I weavebetween them, my bound hands making balance impossible. The lights here are multicolored, painting everything in shifting rainbow hues.
I can hear him behind me. He’s closer than before.
My lungs burn. My legs shake. How long have I been running? Five minutes? Ten? It feels like hours when it’s below freezing and I’m dressed like a sugarplum fairy.
There's another structure ahead—some kind of workshop building. As I get closer, a sugary scent envelopes me. The door hangs slightly open.
Without thinking, I slip inside as quietly as I can.
The interior is dark except for ambient light filtering through the windows. Props clutter the space—oversized candy molds, fake cauldrons of "chocolate," strings of lights waiting to be hung. I press myself into the darkest corner, behind a large cauldron.
My dress glows even in the darkness, the rhinestones catching every stray beam of light. I curse whoever designed this costume, even as a traitorous part of my brain acknowledges how beautiful it must look amongst the snow and twinkling lights.
Through the window, I see him walk past.
My first real look.
He's tall—easily over six feet. Broad shoulders fill out dark clothing. He moves with predatory grace, completely confident,unhurried. Like he knows there's nowhere I can go that he won't eventually find me.
He pauses, head turning slightly like he's scenting the air.
Then he moves on.
I wait, counting the seconds.
The door creaks open, and my breath catches.
He fills the doorway, backlit by colored lights that turn him into a shadow with a halo. I can't see his face, but I feel his gaze finding me in the darkness.
"Found you."
