Page 62 of Hunted By the Headless Horseman
Go back, Belle.
The weight of the past presses down on me, dragging me under as my heart races faster and faster, threatening to burst.
And then, a sudden jolt overcomes Revenant, and I lose my grip as she stumbles over a loose stone. My body careens to the side, the ground rushing up to meet me.
The world tilts as I fall, my breath escaping in a desperate gasp, followed by a shrill cry. As my body hits the ground, the impact sends a shock wave of pain through me, but the fading of my consciousness truly terrifies me.
He’ll find me. He’ll force me back. He won’t let me go. And I…will become a ghost just like Cathy always longing for her Heathcliff. I won’t get to tell my story. No rewrites. I won’t pick up where I left off like I have with Jack. It won’t be a new chapter, a new beginning.
It will be the end of the book.
My vision blurs. The dark woods swirl into a nightmare of faces and memories, all distorted and twisted. Just as I prepare for the darkness to swallow me, I catch a glimpse of a figure breaking through the trees.
Jack.
“Belle!” His voice pierces the haze, cutting through my panic like a knife. But even as he rushes to my side, lifting me into his arms, fear carves at my insides, refusing to let go. The weight is still there, hovering like a wraith in the corners of my mind, but Jack’s presence grounds me.
“Breathe, Belle. I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice steady and strong, a lifeline in the tumult of my thoughts. “Are you hurt?”
I struggle to regain feeling beyond the strength of his arms, but there’s no pain. Only safety. My senses take in all of him. The scent of his vetiver, leather, and natural masculine musk. His warm breath drifting across my face. The feeling of his coat against my head.
“I’m not hurt. I’m fine. I’m perfect. Because you’re here.”
Relief fills my chest with a surge of air. Hope lifts my shoulders. And love…strengthens my heart.
“What am I going to do with you?” he snorts and approaches Revenant, setting me upon her back and climbing up behind me.
I cling to him, the warmth of his body contrasting with thecold and crippling PTSD. He is bringing feeling back to me. Sometimes, Thaddeus would take his belt to me, but he would stripe my back more than my bottom. Marks on my body. A scar at the back of my neck…beneath my hair.
Nothing like Jack.
Jack pours emotion into every lashing, every mark—all his emotions from punishment to love—knowing just how much force to apply without harming me. A reddening, a few welts. No breaking the skin. An imprint of his teeth. True marks of honor and possession.
And he always puts my pleasure first.
The man I love takes the reins, makes a kissing sound, and urges Revenant onward. Tipping my head onto his shoulder, I whimper and suggest, “You could use your riding crop.”
“Naughty girl,” he growls, but I hear his affection and warm amusement. “I have a much better punishment in store. But for now…I am here. I am always here for you.”
Revenant breaks into a steady trot, shaking her mane but obeying her master until we arrive at the manor a few moments later.
I don’t care what punishment he does. He’s here. He’s okay. He won’t let me slip away. Jackson Elias Moore is my home, and when I find the way back to him, I find the way back to myself.
What will happen if we can’t find his heart by Samhain?
The question surges fear through me. My heart beats too much. It gives out.
I pass out.
24
“You will indeed be punished.”
JACK
The temptation to take my belt or crop to her bottom rises in me as I bring her back to the manor and run a warm bath.
But this time, I won’t give her what she ultimately desires. No matter if my punishment will affect us both. Perhaps it’s an apt one, affording us more time to search for my heart. Samhain is coming.
