Page 7 of Taken in the Tree Farm
She's shaking now—fine tremors running through her whole body. I can see her mind working, calculating the odds, looking for an escape that doesn't exist.
I designed this game to have only one ending.
The snow falls heavier now, thick flakes that muffle the sound coming from the speakers and blur the Christmas lights.
She shifts her weight, preparing to run again, and I let a wicked smile curve my lips.
"You can run again if you want," I tell her, taking another slow step forward. "I do love watching you try."
Something flashes in her eyes—defiance mixed with fear and that traitorous heat she can't quite hide. Her bound hands clench into fists, velvet rope digging into her wrists.
She's gorgeous like this. Wild and desperate and fighting against every instinct that's telling her to surrender.
I inhale deeply, scenting the cold night air. Pine and peppermint and snow andher. It all makes my blood run hot with need.
"I can smell your fear, sugarplum," I say quietly, letting each word hang in the frozen air between us.
I take one more step forward, closing the distance until I'm nearly close enough to touch her. Until I can see the way her pupils have swallowed her irises and I can count every rapid breath.
"And the sweet scent of your need for me.”
CHAPTER 3
SERAPHINA
His words are frozen in the air between us, and something inside me snaps.
I can’t stay here. I take off, my bare feet slipping on ice-slicked snow, but adrenaline overrides the pain screaming through my frozen limbs. I don't look back—I can't—just push forward into the maze of trees, branches whipping past my face, tulle catching and tearing on evergreen needles.
Behind me, I hear him laugh. That dark, amused sound that shouldn't make my stomach flip.
But it does.
I fucking hate that it does.
The path ahead splits into three directions, each marked by those glowing candy cane stakes. I veer right without thinking, following lights that blur into streaks of gold and red. My lungs burn from the cold air, each breath stabbing like icicles in my chest.
I need to think and focus through the panic and whatever drugs are still clouding my thoughts.
He's herding me. Every time I've run, every choice I've made—he's been guiding me. Cutting off routes. Circling around to block escapes. He knows this place intimately, and I'm just a mouse in his maze. He’s calm because he’s incontrol.
I know it should terrify me. Itdoesterrify me… But the heat that coils low in my stomach each time that deep voice hits my ears…
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I'm running for my life from a stranger who drugged me and tied me up, and part of me is aroused by it. Byhim. By the way he moves, the confidence in his voice, the predatory grace.
I'm sick. I have to be sick. Right?
My bound wrists throb where the velvet rope digs in, and I bring my hands to my mouth while stumbling forward. Maybe I can untie them with my teeth. Maybe if I can just free my hands?—
The knot is tight, too professionally done. My teeth catch on soft velvet but can't find purchase. I'm panting around my wrists, still running, still trying to put distance between us even though I know he’s faster than I am.
The trees open into another clearing, this one filled with elaborate structures made of twisted peppermint. Archways and pillars rise from the snow like candy architecture, red and white spirals glowing from within. It's stunning—magical—completely wrong for the nightmare I'm living.
I duck behind one of the pillars, pressing my back against the cold candy-striped surface. My whole body shakes—from cold, from fear, from exhaustion. My feet have gone numb, which isprobably a blessing. I don't want to look at them. I don't want to see the damage.
I work at the rope again, teeth scraping against velvet. The knot won't budge. He knew what he was doing.
