Page 11 of Pounded in the Patch
"What kind of game?" I ask, though I'm not sure I want to know the answer.
He’s handsome in a way that would make angels weep—sharp cheekbones and bright green eyes, medium brown hair styled perfectly even with the mask, and a short, clean-cut beard that frames a wicked grin. Everything about him screamsdanger.
I feel like I should recognize this face. Like I should know who he is. But my mind is blank, terror short-circuiting my ability to think clearly. All I know is that he's the most beautiful monster I've ever seen.
Play the part, some distant part of my mind whispers.He wants you terrified. He wants you confused. Give him what he wants until you can figure out how to escape.
"I don't know you," I say when he doesn’t respond, my voice shaking. "I don't understand why you've done this to me."
His smile is slow and predatory, showing perfect white teeth. "You will. Before this night is over, you'll understand everything." He steps closer, close enough that I can smell that expensive cologne again. "But first, we’re going to play."
"What kind of?—"
"I'm going to give you exactly what you've always wanted," he says, cutting me off. His voice is rough with desire. "I'm going to hunt you through this pumpkin patch. I'm going to chase you until your heart is pounding and your legs are giving out beneath you and you're running on nothing but pure adrenaline and will to survive."
My mouth goes dry. This is insane. This is absolutely fucking insane.
"And when I catch you—not if, butwhen—I'm going to have my fun with you." His green eyes are burning with an intensity that makes my knees weak. "I'm going to touch you and taste you and fuck you in ways that will make you forget your own name."
Oh my god.
"But here's the thing that makes it interesting," he continues, circling me lazily like a predator sizing up his prey. "You're going to run. You're going to run like your life depends on it, because in a way, itdoes. The woman you are right now? She ends tonight. What you become after I'm done with you? That's entirely up to how well you play the game."
I can barely breathe. The combination of terror and confusion is making my head spin. "And if I don't run?" I challenge him.
His laugh is dark and throaty and absolutely terrifying. "Oh, you'll run. Every instinct you have is going to scream at you torun." He leans in close, his warm breath sending chills down my spine. "The question is how long you can keep it up before your body betrays you and you start wanting to be caught."
This can’t be happening.
But even as I think about it, I can feel it awakening deep in my chest. The part of me that responds to the promise in his voice, to the careful way he's watching me through the mask. That part of me that whisperswhat ifinstead ofhelp me.
No. Absolutely fucking not. I am not going to Stockholm syndrome myself with my own kidnapper.
"I'll scream," I threaten, though my voice lacks any real conviction. "Someone will hear me."
"Go ahead," he says with that same terrifying smile. "Scream all you want. We're five miles from the nearest paved road and ten miles from the nearest house. The only things that will hear you are the wolves." He pauses, head tilted like he's listening. "Actually, I think I hear them already."
As if summoned by his words, a low howl echoes through the trees, followed by another. The sound makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
"Now," he says, stepping back and giving me space. "I'm going to count to ten. When I reach ten, I'm coming after you. You'd better hope you can run fast in those boots, night monster."
This is really happening.
"One."
Fuck!
My heart lurches into my throat. He's serious. He's actually serious.
"Two."
I look around wildly, trying to orient myself in the field of pumpkins. The fog makes it impossible to see beyond what’s directly in front of me, and the pathways wind between the pumpkins in patterns I can't follow. But there—beyond the jack-o'-lanterns, I can make out the dark shapes of trees. If I can reach the tree line, maybe I can lose him in the forest.
"Three."
Run. Just run.
"Four."
