Page 96 of Stalked By Seduction and Shadows

“Let someone walk you back at least,” Eli said.

“No need, really. It’s barely an eight-minute walk, and it’s not that late. Lumina is safe.”

I mumbled a few more awkward goodbyes before making my escape, dodging more attempts to get me to stay.

Cutting through the small forest, I heard the distant calls of firebirds. They could likely sense the witch circle’s magick too.

In the dark, quiet solitude of the woods, my discomfort eased. For a moment, I was back home in Crescent Haven. I remembered how it felt to play in the woods as a child, a cunning explorer on the search for rare jewels and artifacts to sell at market. Sometimes I’d creep closer to the magickal border, despite all warnings against it. I still didn’t know why. Maybe it was the pull of the magick, the distinctive prickle of power raising the bumps along my skin.

Other times I wondered if it was the call of danger itself, or more innocently, the great unknown that existed outside of my stifling, quiet life.

At the sound of cracking twigs, I jolted. Adrenaline coursed through my veins as I slowly turned in the direction of the sound. At first, I saw nothing but trees, fallen leaves, and brush. Then I saw the unmistakable outline of a figure emerge like a shadow from behind a wide trunk, and I didn’t think, I just took off running.

My feet pounded against the labyrinth of dead foliage, branches, roots, and twigs. Cold air burned my lungs. The forest surged with sinister power.

I didn’t make it far before I heard his voice, smelled his familiar scent of dark, woodsy, musk.

“You can’t run from me, Little Flame.”

His voice was so close to my ear that I lost my concentration and stumbled over a branch, my hands reaching out as I dipped forward.

Strong arms caught me as I flailed and kicked back into this vampiric wall of muscle. I wished I cared about how fucked it was that Rune got off on scaring me, chasing me through the woods at night like a predator. I wished I could hold fast to my distrust or the warnings from my friends. But my grasp on these concerns was weak and pitiful compared to Rune’s ironclad hold.

Flush against his chest, I panted, my breath billowing into the air like smoke. That was when something cool and hard pressed up against my throat.

“Don’t move,” Rune whispered.

My body understood what was biting into my flesh before I did. My survival instincts kicked in, and I went utterly still.

“I believe this belongs to you.”

Rune’s voice feathered over my skin. He removed the dagger from my throat and spun me to face him before shoving me up against a tree. My wool jacket blunted the impact, but the roughness of the act still had me shaken.

His devastatingly handsome face was cold, as if he truly were a stranger three seconds away from bleeding me dry. The only comfort was the briefest flash of satisfaction in his eyes, a quick glimpse of softness as he scanned my body.

Had he seen what had happened in the grove? How long had he been watching me?

These questions faded to static when the blade was back at my throat, just over my racing pulse. My stalker grinned wickedly as he dragged the weapon lower, over my chest. My nipples hardened under my sweater dress when the blunt side of the tip grazed each of them.

Rune made a soft hum of approval, his other hand suddenly grabbing my throat and pushing my head back roughly against the tree.

I gasped, his fingers slightly squeezing the sides of my neck in a way that made me feel like I was floating.

The decreased oxygen flow made every careful touch of the blade an electric current of pleasure.

“Why have you never been more aroused than you are with a blade pressed against you?” Rune asked, the edge in his voice a mockery of condescension. “Helpless, one wrong move away from death. I wouldn’t let a single drop of your spilled blood fall to the earth. If I were to cut into your skin, I would drink every last mouthful of the essence that poured from your sinful little body.”

In one fluid movement, Rune had the dagger flipped, now running the brass hilt down my stomach. My breathing sounded different when he was squeezing my throat, and I trembled when he rubbed the hilt over the apex of my thighs. I sparked to life, and strangely, the image of the crowd of witches staring at me arose. Sick satisfaction clouded my mind that I’d been watched and wanted by so many—yearned for, sought after, my voice a drug to their wanting ears.

He released my neck, reaching down to hike up my dress. I barely noticed the bite of the cold, my nerves alight with the warmth of my heated blood.

He rubbed the hilt against the folds between my thighs with only the thin fabric of my panties separating the metal from my skin. I looked up at him, trembling as I began to grind against the weapon.

“Mm, that’s my good little seductress,” he praised, grasping my chin. His voice was a low rumble, his shadows multiplying all around him. “You love it when every man’s eyes are on you, don’t you?”

I frowned, halting as shame crawled up my spine.

His grip tightened, biting into my cheeks as he grasped my face. “I love that about you, Scarlett. Let them watch. Let them crave. It is my greatest pleasure knowing how ravenously my Little Flame is desired by all, while I’m the only one who holds the keys to her heart and her maddeningly perfect body.”

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