Page 165 of The Duke and the Disciple

She slowly stood, watching him closely. With her eyes still following him, she went to the rack and skimmed her hands along the cloaks, choosing an economical one. One that would keep her warm enough but wouldn’t slow her nearly as much as the others. Smart.

The rain outside would complicate things, but predators could hunt in any weather.

Rahn lifted the hourglass. Her eyes turned to saucers. She angled herself toward the door, her breaths short and choppy.

I want you to be my wulf again, but this time I want you to catch me.

When he tipped it, something shifted inside of him. “Better run.”

Aesylt racedthrough the forest like she was running for her life.

Not only was the ground clear of snow for once, but the rain was obscuring every step she made, neatly covering her tracks. The advantage stoked her competitiveness, but winning wouldn’t satiate her motivation. Rahn had more he was holding back, even from himself. She’d never wanted anything more than to see the dark side of him come out to play. The only way to entice it out of him was to give him a stage where he made all the rules, and she had no choice but to follow them.

The harder I make him work for it, the harder he’ll be on me.The realization added flight to her step. She dipped left, snaking through trees, and then right, creating an illogical path he’d never think to follow.

Aesylt paused to catch her breath and listen for any signs he’d caught up. Nothing. He hadn’t given her an hourglass of her own, but in her head, she’d been intermittently counting. The first ten minutes had come and gone; she was closer to twenty. A third of the way there.

She pushed on, elation carrying her faster and truer than she’d run in years. Her boots sailed off the ground with every stride, and before long, she was moving like a wulf herself, smooth and elegant and one with the forest.

Aesylt launched into a clearing that was familiar, though it took a moment of orientation to place it without all the snow. It was the tree that surfaced her recognition—the same one she’d sailed into. The one that had offered an illuminating evening with the man now giving her the chase she’d really wanted that night.

She glanced behind her, but there was still no sign he’d gained any ground. The quarry’s edge was less perilous when she could actually see where she was stepping, and it gave her the nerve to inch closer to the edge.

The sight was distressing. For as terrified as she’d been clinging to that tree, had she sailed past it instead, the way to the bottom was far enough that she’d have had ample time to contemplate the end of her life before meeting it.

And my quiet, unassuming scholar climbed that tree so I didn’t have to be alone. He hadn’t hesitated.

She backed away and was evaluating her options when something hard and cold clamped over her mouth. Her feet kicked up, catching air, then bouncing off the ground as she was dragged overland back into the forest.

Her screams were muffled by the smell of freshly cured leather. Gloves.He wants you to fight,she thought and peeled her lips back, trying to nip him with her teeth, but he caught on and fastened himself tighter until she calmed.

The forest flew by, blurring. Her boots caught bushes... roots. Stinging pain rocked her when her ankle twisted, but her wulf was oblivious.

The stop was so abrupt, her stomach twisted. She found footing again, but seconds later, she was tripping and running from the force of him pushing her along. Just as she’d gotten a hang of the pace, she was slammed to a tree, and her breath exploded from her chest.

Her face immediately smarted from the scratchy bark. Blood beaded on her cheeks, and she thought, surely he’d address it, because he was a man who went wild when she had a skinned knee. But then he mashed her face against the wood and pinned it there as he tugged her skirt up over her waist with vicious insistence. She spat at the bark, tasting the damp earthy residue as she tried to make words, sounds, but he tensed his hand in warning, and she stopped.

“You thought you could run from me?” Rahn ripped her undergarments off with a single tear, followed by the sharp hiss of spit hitting a glove. He shoved up and into her. “That I wouldn’tcatchyou?”

She screeched against the wood as he pinned her with the force of his tearing thrusts, and she realized, with a tiny spark of fear, that he was alreadybecomingthe wulf. Already shedding the flesh of the sensitive, devoted scholar who had killed the last man who had put hands on her.

He ripped her hair back so her face was aimed at the starry sky. The bowman was out, and she nearly laughed—nearly said it out loud—but then she gulped for air, choking on bark dust. Her groin brushed the tree repeatedly until she was wet, something he noted with a throaty moan.

Rahn bit down on the back of her neck and spilled into her. He held himself there, stilling so the pulsing release was the only sensation... the scorching, ferocious spend of a beast still playing with its kill.

Her clit throbbed in desperation when he ripped her away from the tree and threw her onto the ground.

Aesylt clambered back on her hands and feet, but he was ready for her resistance, stifling it with a bag thrust crudely over her head. She whipped around, sputtering in confusion, but was spun onto her belly with a slam. He yanked her hands up and over her head, thick rope sliding and tightening on her wrists. She tried to catch her breath but then she was off the ground again, thrown over something hard. His shoulder. Bile bubbled up from her throat and dribbled along her face, into her hair. His seed ran down her thighs.

Blind and bound, Aesylt could only watch the world pass by through the threading of the sack. It wasn’t enough to even guess where he was taking her, but wherever he had in mind, the savage assault at the tree had only been a taste of the full experience.

With a start, Aesylt realized shewasscared. He could do anything at all to her, and no one would ever know. No one was coming for her. As recently as earlier that night, she’d recognized she still knew so little about the man she loved, and what if she’d made a terrible mistake? What if she could unleash the beast but not put him back?

Those fears were the single greatest turn-on of her life.

Rahn slowed. The echo of hollow stone replaced the crunch of the forest. He lowered her to the hard ground, cradling her head on the way down—not as coarsely as he’d handled her at the tree, but far from gentle—and moved away. His steps echoed, getting closer... farther. He seemed to be fiddling with something.

“Where are we, Adrahn?”

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