Page 50 of Sweet Doe
Snow melts against my back where it's soaking through my jacket, but I barely notice the cold. All I can focus on is the heat of his mouth and the sound he makes when I part my lips to let him in deeper.
This is insane. We're lying in the snow in below-freezing temperatures, making out like teenagers, and all I can think about is how right this feels. How fucking perfect it feels.
He pulls back and we're both breathing hard.
"Surrender now?" he asks, and I know the question goes beyond this silly game.
"I..." The word catches in my throat as I look up at him, the man who I'm terrified I might actually be falling in love with.
That's when we hear it.
The distant thrum of helicopter rotors, growing closer.
Asher's entire body goes rigid above me, his head snapping up to scan the sky. I can see the exact moment he spots them—two black helicopters cresting the ridge to our east, moving in our direction.
"Fuck," he breathes, rolling off me and pulling me to my feet in one smooth motion. "We need to get inside. Now."
But I'm frozen, staring up at those helicopters with a mixture of terror and something that might be... disappointment? Because in my gut, I know they’re looking for me.
But why does the sight of them fill me with dread instead of relief?
"Sloan." Asher's hands grip my shoulders, turning me to face him. "Listen to me. Those helicopters are part of a search party. They're looking for you."
"I know." My voice sounds strange, distant.
"Do you understand what that means?"
I do understand. It means people realize I'm missing. It means they're looking for me, probably have been looking since I didn't come home from what was supposed to be a romantic Christmas getaway.
It means they can rescue me. Take me away from this monster of a man.
It also meansthisis about to end.
"They can't find us here," he continues, his voice urgent. "If they do, everything changes. Everything we are will disappear."
Everything we are. Like this is a relationship instead of a kidnapping.
But God help me, it feels real. Standing here in the snow with search helicopters circling overhead, all I can think about is how much I don't want this to end. How much I don't want to go back to a world where no one looks at me the way Asher does, where no one pays attention to my needs the way he does, where no one makes me feel as alive as he makes me feel.
"Sloan." His voice is softer now, almost pleading. "Talk to me. What are you thinking? We have to go."
WhatamI thinking? I'm thinking that two weeks ago I would have been jumping up and down, screaming at the top of my lungs, doing everything possible to attract their attention.
"They wouldn't understand," I hear myself say, the words spilling out before I can stop them. "If they found us, if they took me back...." My voice trails into nothing. I have no words.
The outside world would see a kidnapper and his victim, not... whatever we're becoming. They'd see Stockholm syndrome and trauma bonding and psychological abuse, not the way he makes me laugh or the way he listens when I talk or the way he holds me at night.
They'd want to fix me, to therapy me back to normal, to help me understand that what I'm feeling isn't real.
But itisreal. The way my heart races when he looks at me is real. The way I feel safe in his arms is real. The way I've started to think of this cabin as home instead of prison is real.
Fucked up, maybe. Psychologically complex, definitely. But real nonetheless.
"What do we do?" I ask, though I think I already know.
"We disappear.Reallydisappear this time." His eyes are intense, burning with conviction. "I was thinking Alaska or Canada. I’ve spent time at a cabin in Alaska. It’s remote. Completely off the grid. We could go there, start fresh, build from the ground up."
Alaska. Canada. I remember seeing that in his journals, the three-phase plan that started with Alex's murder and ends with my complete disappearance from civilization. Phase Three, executed because Phase Two was successful beyond his wildest dreams.
