Page 29 of Taken in the Tree Farm
Without the fear, without the darkness, it's a winter wonderland. Magical. Beautiful.
"Luke, this is amazing."
"You like it?" He wraps his arm around my waist as we walk.
"I love it. It's perfect." I lean into him. "Thank you. For all of it."
"Thank you for trusting me with the idea." He kisses the top of my head.
We spend the morning exploring, and he shows me all the details I missed during the chase. The hidden speakers playing the creepy music. The heating elements buried in certain pathsto keep them from getting too icy. The emergency exits he'd built in, just in case. The random medical supplies stashed throughout.
Every detail thought through. Every risk mitigated. Every element designed to make the fantasy feel real while keeping me safe.
"Best husband ever," I declare, wrapping my arms around his neck.
"Best wife ever," he counters, lifting me up and spinning me around.
We're both laughing, snow falling around us, standing in the middle of the Christmas tree farm where last night I was prey and this morning I'm just the luckiest woman alive.
"Ready for round two tonight?" he asks, waggling his eyebrows.
"Luke Morrison, you're insatiable."
"Saysyou."
"Okay, fair." I kiss him. "But maybe we start a little less intense? My body needs recovery time."
"Deal. Gentle tonight."
The promise of future games makes me shiver with anticipation. Because this is our life now. Trust and love and exploring the darkest corners of desire together. Always together.
"Come on," Luke says, taking my hand again. "Let's go back to the workshop. I'll make you hot chocolate, we'll cuddle by the fire, and you can tell me everything you felt during the hunt."
"Everything?"
"Everything. I want to know every thought, every sensation, every moment I made you feel exactly what you wanted to feel."
So we walk back toward the workshop hand in hand, leaving footprints in the fresh snow.
CHAPTER 10
LUKE
She looks perfect wrapped in that oversized blanket.
Seraphina sits cross-legged on the fur rug in front of the fireplace, her hands wrapped around a mug of peppermint hot chocolate. Her hair is still damp from our shower, hanging loose around her shoulders. She's wearing one of my favorite sweaters and thick wool socks. The marks I left on her neck peek out from the collar, and I feel a possessive satisfaction seeing them.
Mine. Every bruise, every bite mark, every memory of last night written on her skin.
Outside the workshop windows, snow continues to fall in thick, lazy flakes. The tree farm looks like a postcard—pristine white covering everything, the structures rising like gingerbread cottages from a fairy tale. It's peaceful. Beautiful. Nothing like the dark hunting ground it was just hours ago.
I love the duality and that this place can be both sanctuary and stalking ground, depending on what we need. I already can’t wait to use it again next year.
"This is the best hot chocolate I've ever had," Seraphina says, taking another sip. "What did you put in it?"
"Peppermint schnapps, heavy cream, and a little vanilla." I settle beside her on the rug, my own mug in hand. "I used real peppermint sticks instead of extract."
"Of course you made it from scratch." She leans against my shoulder. "You can't just do anything halfway, can you?"
