“I just want to know that you’re okay.” My sister’s voice is quiet, hushed.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she was hiding.
I bite my tongue against asking about it, choosing to believe that Mom wouldn’t have a problem with Dakota talking to me. Or Len, although I haven’t heard from my younger sister in weeks.
My heart pangs. I miss them more than I want to admit. Seeing them in New York for just a blip of time wasn’t enough.
“I’m okay,” I assure her. “How are you guys? Where—”
“Mom said I’m not allowed to tell anyone where we are,” she whispers. “I heard her arguing on the phone…”
“With who?”
“Uncle Cillian. I think he wanted to know where she was, and she wouldn’t say. And then they started talking about you.” Dakota lets out a breath. “It’s just freaking me out a little, you know? Stephen hired us bodyguards.”
“What?” My spine snaps straighter.
“There are three of them, and they’re with us all the time. They kind of freak me out. This whole situation does. I don’t like taking all my classes online.”
She’s quiet. Sensitive. More than I ever was—but then again, I learned to be tough from a young age. All Dakota was told was that our lives were being uprooted and we were constantly afraid. Lennox was too young when we started running from our father. She doesn’t know any better.
“They’re coming back,” Dakota says in a rush. “I’ve got to go.”
She hangs up before I can get a word in edgewise, and I’m left staring at my phone screen. I’ve got two messages from Steele almost twenty minutes ago.
I left the stadium after he was kicked out. The fight was explosive and short-lived, and I have no idea what set Steele off. Maybe it was me?
Coming to his practice was a dumb idea anyway.
But now I scan his texts, and a chill sweeps through me.
STEELE
I’m hunting you tonight, sweetheart. Better run.
Don’t think hiding will work—I’ll find you either way.
That chill is replaced with excitement. Anything to block out the pang of missing my family. I look around, aware that I’m just standing on the sidewalk halfway between the stadium and my apartment. I’d been taking the scenic route while I talked to Dakota… and part of me doesn’t want to go back and risk interrupting whatever Thalia has going on with my uncle. If there’s anything going on. I mean, maybe I just interrupted a misguided first kiss, never to be repeated.
I can kind of see the allure. My uncle’s a big, tattooed, dangerous guy—I also will get sick if I think about it too much. The thought of talking to her about it turns my stomach.
I shut off my phone, not bothering to answer Steele. He might be tracking me down right this very moment. The sun has set, and the streetlights are flickering on. Instead of going to my apartment, I head toward campus. There’s a forest on the other side, a few walking trails carved through it and lined with woodchips. It’s all very meticulously maintained by the city, with the exception of proper lighting.
Anyway. A proper hunt needs a proper atmosphere, in my opinion. I unwind my scarf from around my neck and stow it in my jacket pocket, then resolve to move faster. Goosebumps rise on my arms and race down my spine.
I cast a furtive glance behind me, almost unsurprised to see someone following me.
Of course he found me.
Unless it’s not Steele… he mentioned the possibility of a stalker the other day, when his search for my music came up empty. But I’m not sure who the hell would stalk me. I glance back again, and the person walking is gone.
My heart skips.
I pick up my pace, heading for the forest trails.
All of a sudden, someone comes around the corner—and I smash into them.
“Whoa.” Hands grab at my arms, keeping me upright. “Aspen?”
My gaze lifts, locking on to Chase King. He eyes me, his brows furrowed.
“Are you okay?” he asks. “You look like you saw a ghost.”
“I’m fine.” I step out of his hold. “Um, I… I just thought I saw something, and it freaked me out.”
“Where are you headed?”
“Campus,” I lie.
He falls into step with me, turning back the way he came. “I’ll escort you.”
You’re going to get wrapped up in something you don’t want any part of, I almost say. There’s a new lump in my throat, though, and I can’t seem to push out the words around it.
“O’Brien treating you okay?”
I glance sharply at him, then straight ahead again. “We’re a good match, I think.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Am I interrupting something? Were you headed somewhere?”
He’s got his bag slung over his shoulder. Unlike me, who bundled up as much as I could to sit in the cold arena, he’s only wearing a sweater over a shirt and jeans. And he seems completely unruffled by the bite in the air.
Winter is coming fast, and it’s all the more apparent after the sun sets.
“I was just going home,” he replies, shooting me a glance. “Even though Crown Point is pretty safe, I don’t like the idea of you wandering out alone.”
“Thanks,” I murmur.
We reach campus, and Chase only pauses at the huge doors to the Administration building.
“I’m good from here,” I tell him. “I appreciate your… kindness.”
He smiles. “Anytime.”
Nodding to himself, he ambles off the way we came. I watch him for another beat, then lift my gaze and scan the area. Students mill around, of course, but there’s no one out of place. No dark gaze that makes my heart pound faster.
No Steele O’Brien.
I hurry inside, toward the auditorium. At this time of night, I might get the whole place to myself for a moment—which means I can play on the baby grand on the stage. I slip into the back of the darkened auditorium and scan it. There’s no one here, as far as I can tell. And it takes my eyes a minute to adjust to just the dim emergency lighting.
Still, I can play the piano in the dark. Something simple to calm my nerves.
Steele won’t find me here—not when I should be running scared.
I slip down the aisle and up the side staircase, dropping my bag at the edge of the stage. I shed my coat, too. My fingers don’t tremble when I pull out the bench and take a seat. The ivory keys are barely visible, but I know them by heart. I find my place and play a single note. It rings through me, unlocking the desire to do this permanently.
My audition is coming up next week. Between Steele and classes, I’ve spent far too many evenings locked in the practice room trying to get the audition piece perfect. Memorized.
I do have it memorized now, and I run through it without thinking.
“It feels hollow.”
I almost jump out of my skin at the voice that comes from behind me.
Steele.
His hands drop on my shoulders, and I almost flinch again. Those hands wander, down my arms, along my sides. My hips.
“Where’s the passion?” he asks in my ear.
My heart is rioting.
His fingers slip under the hem of my shirt, dancing along the waistband of my leggings.
“Play it again,” he orders. “But… put your heart into it.”
I suck in a breath and begin again. As I start, his hand slides into my leggings. Under my panties. He cups my core, and two fingers push inside me. Slow. So slow.
My notes falter.
Without commenting, I start over. Putting my heart into it, because god knows where else my heart may end up at the end of the night. In Steele’s grip, if he has anything to say about it.
His fingers curl, pressing to my G-spot. I can barely think, but somehow, I continue playing. Putting more feeling into it, more expression that I’d been afraid to insert before. The rise of a crescendo, the fury that this section of music demands. His thumb presses on my clit.
I gasp, my back arching. My shoulders meet his.
He’s kneeling behind me, wrapped around me like an octopus. Feeling every reaction in the dark like he’s playing me as much as I’m playing the music. Absorbing me. His head touches my back, and his thumb moves. Just a little brush past my clit, strumming a deep chord inside me. He works in time with the music, winding me tighter and tighter. My muscles tense, on the verge of coming out of my skin, when the piece ends—and Steele withdraws.
“Oh, god.” I sag back against him.
His chuckle rumbles through me. He paints my lips with my own arousal, then rises.
“This is hiding.” His voice is so dark, it curls deep inside me.
I shift around, facing him.
“I want you to run.” He lifts his arm, pointing toward the stage exits. Where black curtains hide the doors into the back hallways, and another door that leads outside beyond it.
I rise, the adrenaline pumping through me as we stare at each other. It’s hard to make out his expression like this, even though he’s only feet away. I lick my lips and bolt past him. I’ll collect my coat and bag later.
He reaches for me, and his fingers slip through my loose hair. I let out a yelp and put on a spurt of speed. I don’t like running. In fact, running is probably one of my least favorite things. But this, the idea of being prey he’s hunting down, turns me on way too fucking much to care about the searing in my lungs.
It’s all just adding to the experience.
I burst outside and head back toward the woods. That’s where I originally wanted to go before Chase intercepted me. Now, though, the sidewalk is clear. I scramble across the street and onto the woodchip path. Bits kick up behind me with every step. My breath comes out in sharp pants.
Yeah, okay, so maybe being part of the experience isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
I glance behind me.
He’s jogging. Slow, keeping me in his sights.
Fucker.
There’s a curve on the path, a dip, and he’ll lose sight of me momentarily. An idea ticks through my head, a scenario flashing before my eyes.
It might work.
I round the bend, my stride carrying me down the short hill, and I dive off the path. I creep between trees and skid to a stop, pressing my back to one of the thick-trunked trees. My heart is hammering almost too loud to hear anything else, and I cover my mouth to mask my breathing.
There’s nothing. The woods are too dark and silent around me. The rushing in my ears blocks out every other, more subtle, noise. Steele might’ve moved past me, or maybe he stopped.
I peek around the tree, but all I can see are shadows.
After another few seconds, I leave my position and creep back the way I came, parallel to the path but still firmly in the shadows. The glowing lampposts lend little light—their dim tops barely create a five-foot radius around each one.
The back of my neck prickles.
I turn around, and Steele is right behind me—
Wearing a fucking mask.
I scream and sprint away from him. Fallen branches and brush scrape my legs as I pass, but holy shit.
I don’t like masks.
Where did he even get a mask?
It was one of those Scream ones, the white long face almost glowing in the darkness. I run faster than before and burst back out onto the path. I’m heading back toward campus, but I don’t even give a fuck if someone sees me running for my life.
Suddenly, something catches my ankle. I go sprawling and barely catch myself on my forearms. The impact jars me, my teeth clacking with the force. Hands flip me over and roughly yank down my leggings before I can register what’s going on, and I stare up at the mask.
I know it’s Steele.
It has to be Steele.
But there’s some part of my brain that refuses to register it as him.
I scream and thrash, catching him in his side with my knee. It doesn’t even slow him down. He restrains my legs under him, my leggings twisted to imprison my calves. He yanks them up, nearly folding me in half, and grips my ankles with both hands.
My fingers dig into the woodchips under me. I try to claw into the dirt to scramble away, but he’s got too much leverage.
And when he thrusts into me, I cry out. His cock hits deep inside me, and my vision flickers. He’s got his arms banded around my legs, immobilizing me. Keeping them pressed to his chest even as he leans over me.
I can’t move except to try and squirm away—but even that does nothing. My thighs held together makes him feel bigger, and each stroke causes an involuntary tremor to run through me.
And then I see the mask again, and the terror grips me all over again.
It’s not even rational.
I just fucking hate masks. I reach for it, for him, and he bats away my hand. A growl slips from under it, and my chest tightens.
His pace ups until he’s ramming into me without restraint. I groan at every hit. I’m still sensitive—my period only stopped yesterday. Everything is burning up.
And then he goes still, groaning and coming inside me.
“Holy shit,” someone says.
Not masked Steele.
I tip my head back. Chase, upside down from my point of view, stands on the path with a girl under his arm. The girl looks horrified, but Chase seems mildly intrigued. And even more so when he registers me.
“Aspen?”
I can’t move. I don’t really know what to do—I feel a bit like a deer caught in headlights. Well, a deer being ravaged by a mountain lion caught in headlights…
Steele grunts, sliding free of me and pulling up his pants. He shoves my leggings back into place, manhandling me until I’m covered. Then he drags me upright and tosses me over his shoulder before I can so much as open my mouth.
His shoulder digs into my stomach, and he strides past Chase silently.
No threats.
No revealing himself.
I shudder and keep my gaze focused on the ground. Better than meeting Chase’s eyes after he just caught us…
Holy shit, why does that turn me on even more?
“You like being scared, sweetheart?” Steele asks, slapping my ass.
I grip the back of his shirt.
“Or was it the eyes on you at the end that did it? Watching our little performance.”
“I hate masks.” I press my lips together. I shouldn’t have admitted that—now he’s just going to bring it out more often. “Where did you even get that thing?”
“Halloween shop.”
We missed Halloween this year. He and I stayed in my apartment while Thalia went out. It’s for the best, though, with my inability to deal with masks. Still, apparently he found the time to go out and buy this one.
He chuckles, then jostles me. “And you definitely didn’t hate it fully.” A second later, he passes me the mask behind his back.
I take it, running my fingers over the smooth white plastic. It’s not as scary when I hold it. Or when I press it against my face and look through the eyeholes.
Never mind that I’m still slung over Steele’s shoulder.
“Are you going to put me down?”
“No.”
I scoff. “Why not?”
“Because I’m going to take you back to my room and ravage you the proper way, and I don’t want you running away again.” He snorts. “You were a proper catch.”
“I tripped,” I grumble.
“On the wire I set across the path.”
I press my lips together, contemplating that. I mean, really? There’s no way—
“You don’t like running,” he continues. “I figured you were going to try to circle back around eventually. And even worse than running is crashing through the dark off the path.”
Jeez.
“Fine,” I huff. “Take me back to your place, you caveman. But I better orgasm at least twice.”
His fingers find my ass again, digging in. “Yes, ma’am.”
