I’ve gotten faster with all the running I’ve done in the past several months, and my endurance has strengthened. But I’m still no match for Zade. His long legs eat up the dirt ground faster than mine, and I become frustrated as the distance between us grows.
Soon, he disappears altogether, and I slow to a stop, panting heavily and on the verge of tears.
I spin in circles but quickly put a stop to that when I only serve to make myself dizzy. For several minutes, I wallow in my misery while I catch my breath. Tears line the edges of my eyes, and the only person I have to blame is myself.
I may be a little broken right now, but that doesn’t excuse my behavior toward Zade.
Just as I turn to find my way back to Parsons Manor, a twig cracks from behind me.
An ominous feeling rises the hairs on the back of my neck, and my stomach drops. Whirling around, a startled yelp rips from my throat when Zade is right there.
Shock paralyzes me, and before I can muster a word, he’s gripping me by the throat, lifting me, and slamming me into a tree right beside me.
I cry out, disoriented and now breathless as he leeches the oxygen from my lungs, squeezing until I’m sure he’s going to snap my neck. Despite my nails clawing at his hand, he doesn’t relent. Instead, he lifts me higher, and out of desperation, I kick up my legs and curl them around his waist, bowing my back to alleviate some of the pressure.
My body nearly goes through the movements to dislodge his hand from my throat, but I stop myself. Whatever he has to say, whatever he plans to do—I deserve it.
Frankly, I don’t want to escape him.
He’s breathing heavily, and even in the throes of panic, I know it’s purely from excitement. His mouth strays only an inch from mine, his minty toothpaste mingling with leather, spice, and a hint of smoke, the intoxicating aromas clouding my senses. Gradually, his hand tightens, and instinct begins to take over. I thrash against him, but he only presses deeper into me.
“What’s wrong, baby? Didn’t get enough the first time and came back for more?”
I slap at him, my vision beginning to blacken, and I don’t need a mirror to see that my face is tomato red and seconds away from turning purple. Finally, his grip loosens, and I greedily suck in air, though he doesn’t remove his hand.
“Fucking dickhead,” I choke out, and yes, I see the hypocrisy, but fuck him anyway.
He scarcely gives me a moment to breathe, then he’s threatening to rob me of air once more. His grip isn’t as tight, leaving a kernel of space in my windpipe that allows me to inhale.
“Come on, little mouse, you know I only answer to two names,” he taunts. “Let me hear you say my name. It sounds so much sweeter when you can’t breathe.”
“Zade,” I growl, but he shakes his head.
“Uh-uh,” he tsks, voice dipped in sweet venom. “I want you to call me by my other name, Adeline.”
Tears of frustration pool in my eyes, one breaking free and slipping past my lashes. He tracks the droplet, a savage grin ghosting across his lips before the tip of his tongue darts out and licks the salty water from my face.
I clench my teeth, pride rising, fueled by anger for this insufferable man. When Zade and I are happy, it’s easy to forget how much he enjoys seeing me suffer. And I wonder if this is why I lash out thoughtlessly. Maybe a part of me likes the way he makes me suffer, too.
He drifts the tip of his tongue over the side of my cheek and to my ear, leaving a wet trail in his wake before dark whispers warm my skin instead.
“If you make me tell you again, I will strap you to this tree until the birds are ready to eat.”
“God,” I bite out, my voice hoarse from the strain. “Are you happy now?”
He bares his teeth, and I realize that the fear he instills in me will likely eat me alive before the birds ever could.
“Not even fucking close,” he hisses. “I think I quite like the idea of tying you to this tree—the birds feasting on the helpless little mouse.”
Terror glides down my constricted throat and low into my stomach, morphing into an inebriating feeling that burns and burns until my eyes droop into a half-lidded state.
“Punish me then. I deserve it,” I hiss.
I want him to.
As long as he’s here, touching me, hurting me—it’s better than him being another ghost haunting Parsons Manor.
“Or is the kitty cat too scared of the mouse?”
He tips his head back, a laugh working its way from his throat and sending chills down my spine. Evil. It was an evil laugh, and my excitement ramps up.