Chapter 24
Raine
I run into Calder at the market three days later.
He smiles like he’s been waiting for me to show up.
“He’s miserable, you know.”
My heart stutters. I force a shrug. “He should be.”
Cal only grins wider. “Maybe. But he still misses you.” The smile fades, replaced by something softer. “More than I’ve ever seen him miss anyone. Including our parents.”
My heart tightens.
I give him a small smile and hurry inside so he doesn’t see how much his words hurt.
That night, thunder hums low over the valley.
I’m closing up the cellar when headlights sweep across the vines. I freeze, my heart banging against my ribcage.
Tristan steps out of the truck. No mask. Just him.
He’s holding something wrapped in canvas.
“I owe you this,” he says, moving closer. Dark circles shadow his eyes and the pain in them when they meet mine makes me ache.
He unrolls a new carved sign.
My breath catches.
Voss & Blackwell Winery—the old crest restored, our names side by side.
“I shouldn’t have scared you,” he says, his voice rough. “I wanted control.” His gray eyes burn with regret. “But what I really wanted was for you to be safe. And with me.”
Tears well, but I choke them back. I’m a trainwreck of conflicting emotions, unable to speak.
He swallows hard. “You don’t have to forgive me, but I need you to know—I love you. All of you. The light. The fight. The fire.”
My throat tightens. “You’re impossible.”
“Yeah,” he murmurs. “But I’m yours if you’ll have me.”
The rain starts again—softly at first, then steadily. The scent of earth and wine fill the air.
I step forward until I can feel his breath against mine.
“I hate that I still want you,” I whisper.
“Then stop fighting it.”
A smile curves my lips.
And that’s all he needs.
Tristan wraps me in his arms and kisses me with a hunger and yearning that leaves me breathless.
And this time, it isn’t fear or obsession.
It’s surrender.
We stand there for a long moment, rain sliding down our skin, the storm softening into mist. His forehead rests against mine, his breath rough against my lips.
Then I whisper, “Where’s the mask?”
He goes still. His throat works, eyes searching mine for anger—or worse.
“I shouldn’t have...” he says hoarsely. “It was a mistake.”
My fingers trace the line of his jaw, slow and deliberate. “Get it.”
Confusion flickers. Then realization shines in his eyes. His pulse kicks beneath my fingertips. “Raine—”
“Get it,” I repeat, my voice low, teasing.
He hesitates for only a heartbeat before striding to the truck. When he returns, the white mask gleams in his hand.
I meet his gaze, mischief curling at the edges of my mouth. “Put it on.”
He does.
The sight steals my breath all over again—familiar and new, danger remade into something thrilling. It takes me back to the night in my bedroom when I opened my eyes, and he was looming over me, wearing the mask.
I take a step back, my boots sinking into the wet grass, my heart pounding.
“If you catch me,” I murmur, my voice low and seductive. “You can do whatever you want to me.”
Then I turn and run—wild, breathless, free—through the vineyard that once held my nightmares. The vines part around me, their leaves whispering in approval as thunder rolls across the valley.
Behind me, I hear his low curse, the crunch of boots, the rhythm of pursuit.
I look over my shoulder to see how close he is. Lightning flashes, revealing the white hockey mask, gray eyes burning with unstoppable desire.
And for the first time, the chase isn’t about fear at all.
It’s about us.