Page 17 of Beauty's Twisted Tyrant

"You mean your prisoner," I push, refusing to relent.

"I mean mine," he snarls, his voice low and possessive. In a swift motion, he yanks me forward.

I topple into the hard wall of his chest, gasping in delight.

He wraps one hand around my throat, his grip firm and unyielding. The heat radiating from his body sears me everywhere we touch, igniting fires in my veins. His lips are inches from mine, his breath pelting them. "You run, and I'll chase. To the ends of the fucking earth if that's what I have to do, Thalia."

There it is. The proof I needed—perhaps the proof he needed. This man is no tyrant. He's a complicated tangle of ruler and ruled, as caught by the magic raging between us as I am. And as desperate to keep it alive as I am. Perhaps he does rule with an iron fist. But that isn't all of him. Not by half.

He won't let me go—not because I'm his captive or because he's a tyrant, but because he can't. Because he needs me just as badly as I need him. Because I make him feel alive too.

Desire rages in his eyes, blazing like black suns. I realize then that he wants me to run. He wants to chase me and force me to submit to his control over me. Another of his twisted games.

He crushes his lips to mine in a hard, dominating kiss that sets my entire body on fire. He consumes me, sucking on my tongue, biting my bottom lip. Ruining me for any other kiss.

"Run." The word is a predatory growl vibrating all the way to my core.

I don't think. I don't ask questions. I shove away from his body as hard as I can and flee, racing toward the pond as fast as my legs will carry me. My hair flies out behind me, branches catching in the strands, tugging at my clothing, scratching my arms.

I don't care. I run.

"When I catch you, you're mine, Thalia!" he shouts behind me, his voice taunting. I hear him running, too, his steps heavy as they rapidly close the distance between us.

Crap. He's a lot faster than I am.

"I'm going to do whatever the fuck I want when I get my hands on you. You can't stop me."

I sob in response—in ecstasy, in excitement. Even as I race away from him, I think I'm running toward him and the promise of pleasure waiting when he gets his wicked hands on me.

I want it. Whatever he does to me, whatever wicked, filthy things he craves, I want them too.

I spot a small trail, nearly overgrown by the thick underbrush, off to the left. I dash toward it, my heart pounding. My lungs burn. So do my legs.

I'm nearly at the little trail when his rough hand clamps down on my shoulder.

I spin without conscious thought, wrenching away from him and lashing out with my foot. It connects with his thigh.

He throws his head back and laughs—the deep sound bouncing back from the trees. "Oh, sweetheart," he practically purrs. "You really shouldn't have done that."

I take off again, sprinting down the narrow path, my heart pumping fire through my veins. I've never felt so free, so desired. Out here in the middle of the forest with him chasing him, I feel more at home than I ever did in my own kingdom.

I dodge around trees and crash through the underbrush, my lungs on fire. But I don't stop running. He's still behind me, still chasing me.

And God help me, I love every second of it.

I see the clearing ahead, the blue water of the pond stretching from one side to the other. I'm almost there.

His arms close around me from behind, yanking me backward. "Caught you," he growls against my ear, dragging me up against a tree. His mouth comes down on mine in a hard kiss.

I bite his lip.

He laughs again, grabbing the hem of my yellow sundress and ripping it up over my head. The cool breeze hits my naked skin, pulling a gasp from my lips.

"I warned you," he murmurs, his hand sliding down my belly. My muscles clench beneath his palm, arousal flooding between my legs.

"Troy!" I shout, my head flying back as he thrusts two fingers inside me.

Oh, God. Oh, God.

---