Page 215 of Entangled

There’s only one path through here—a wide, clear cut between the greenery that is far too easy to follow. Jayk is faster than me. If I stay on the path, he’ll find me in no time.

I run ahead, and when I find the right spot, I turn left toward Bristlebrook. Then I pick up a leafy branch and run it behind me to obscure my tracks as I double back in a wide loop. My heart is racing, but my mind is still alert, pumping adrenaline but not the throat-closing fear I felt while being chased by the Sinners.

I won’t be easy prey.

I won’t panic.

My light, floral dress works against me in the dark, so I keep low behind a log, watching the path. Jayk appears moments later, prowling quickly, his eyes scanning the ground, then the trees. I hold my breath as he passes and watch him take my bait trail toward Bristlebrook.

When I’m sure he’s gone, I pick my way over the path, careful to only place my feet in my previous tracks, then push through the thick, springy brush on the other side. My hands shake as it bounces back into place behind me, concealing me without any of its tough leaves bending to alert Jayk to my passage.

Then I sprint away from Bristlebrook, off all safe paths, watching my feet enough so I don’t trip. The plug is thick and tight and resonant inside me, beating like a countdown. I bounce off rocks where possible, knowing they won’t mark my movements, but there’s so many dry, crunchy fall leaves everywhere.

Worried, I veer toward the distant stream. It runs at a trickle, and its rocky bed is a blessing. I slip my shoes off and step into it until the brisk water bites at my ankles. The trees are sparser through here, exposing me, but it also allows the dappled moonlight to light my way. It silvers the water until I’m stepping through liquid metal.

I look over my shoulder but can’t see anything. I can’t hear anything either. I walk quickly, letting the stream hide my tracks... and it hits me that I’m enjoying myself. It’s been over twenty minutes, and he still hasn’t caught me.

There’s no smoke this deep in the woods, just earthy growth and piney trees.

Home.

My toes are beginning to go numb, and I decide I’ve gone far enough. It’s still night and there are plenty of predators in these woods—of the animal variety, if not the human.

I’m just stepping out of the water when I hear a crack to my right. I freeze, looking toward the sound, wishing I didn’t feel quite so much like a fragile-limbed deer testing the air.

Nothing moves.

I take a slow, ginger step from the water, listening closely.

“Run, princess.”

His voice is on my left—andclose.

In pure startled reflex, I scream, bolting away from the sound. He’s right behind me, big and huge and lit with starry anger. I dart around a tree, skidding in the loose foliage.

He appears on the other side of the trunk, right in my face, and I fall on my ass as I jolt back. The plug wedges deep inside me, and I cry out, heart thundering in my throat. At my temple.

In my core.

“You think this is a game?” he snaps. He stands with a foot on either side of my waist, looming over me like a devil over hell. Every broad, muscular inch of him pulses with hurt. “Is itfunny, watching me fall for you and then just moving on to someone better?”

I scramble back, not taking my eyes off him. He’s all danger. Unreasonable anger.

I might have pushed this too far. This isn’t a game. He’s hurting and upset.

Still, it takes every effort not to run.

Staring up at him from the ground, quivering, I whisper, “There is no one better than you, Jayk.”

“Don’tlie.” He drops to his knees over me, straddling my waist. His hand wraps around my neck, gripping me tight, and he drags my chest off the ground. I draw in a quick breath, just to assure myself I can, and wrap my fingers around his steely wrist.

But I don’t pull him away. Something about his hand on my throat, him holding me at his mercy while I squirm under him, blanks my mind of thought. My quick swallows have the tendons in my neck pressing against his palms, and I find myself pressing into the mindlessly carnal grip.

His fingertips pinch and nip the sides of my throat. “Why aren’t yourunning?”

“I don’t want... to run from you,” I manage to get out between slightly panicked pants, tied up and torn between nervousness and indecent lust.

My fearful body begs me to hit back, kiss him, fuck, fight,run, like I do every time we come together. Jayk has a way of turning cowardly instincts into something animal, something cardinal—something crudely, lustfully essential. But tonight’s not a night for running. Not for myself, and not for Jayk.

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