Page 6 of Taken in the Tree Farm
But where's the fun in that?
Instead, I speak into the darkness, letting my voice carry.
"You look so pretty when you run from me."
She goes rigid, trying to pinpoint my location, but she can’t find me.
"The way that dress bounces with each step. The way your breath comes in those desperate little gasps."
I'm close enough now to see the flush spreading across her skin despite the cold. Close enough to watch her pulse hammer at her throat. Close enough to scent the complex mixture of emotions rolling off her in waves.
Fear. Adrenaline.Arousal.
Fuck, Ineedher.
"I wonder how long you'll last before those pretty legs give out."
She makes a run for it—as I knew she would—bolting around the corner straight into my trap. I let her think she's escaped again, tracking her through the candy clearing. She's slower now, stumbling, her body hitting its limits.
Almost time.
But not quite yet.
I follow her to another structure. She slips inside, and I give her exactly sixty seconds before I open the door.
Her eyes, when she sees me silhouetted in the doorway, are wild with fear and excitement. Hunger and desperation that she's fighting not to acknowledge.
She throws another prop and dashes through the doorway again, taking off into the frigid night.
I stand in the doorway after she's gone, smiling and listening to the sound of her barefoot steps growing distant. The Christmas lights in my hand glow softly, red and white casting patterns across the snow. I imagine how they'll look wrapped around her wrists, her throat, her tremblingthighs.
Soon.
So fucking soon, Sera.
I pocket the lights and resume the hunt, my shadow long against the illuminated snow. She's running out of energy, out of options, out of places to hide. The farm is mine. The night is mine.
She's mine.
I track her footprints—the stride shortened, signs of exhaustion in every step. She's circled back to the gingerbread house again, probably disoriented in the maze of lights. I can hear her ragged breathing from here, the desperate sounds she's making.
I step around a cluster of evergreens, positioning myself so I'll intersect her path no matter which direction she runs. The lightsstrung through the trees cast my shadow in multiple directions, making me seem to be everywhere at once.
She presses against the gingerbread house wall, and I watch her from the shadows. I love the way she struggles to control her breathing. And the way she shifts her weight from one frozen foot to the other. Andfuck, even the way her bound hands tremble.
I let the moment hang, heavy yet buzzing with energy, before I step forward just enough that I catch her attention.
Her head snaps up.
I see the instant she spots me—eyes going wide, pupils dilated, lips parting in a gasp. The rhinestones on her dress catch the light as her chest rises and falls rapidly. Her legs are scratched from branches, her fishnets in tatters, her costume torn and wet with snow.
She's never looked more beautiful.
I take another step forward, and she presses harder against the wall like she could somehow melt through it. Trapped. Cornered. Exactly where I want her.
The Christmas lights pulse gently in my hand, red then white then red again.
"Nowhere left to run, sugarplum," I say, my voice low and throaty.
