Epilogue
Three years later
A branch whipped across my shoulder as I pushed through the trees, boots sinking into damp earth scattered with dead leaves and pine needles. Somewhere behind me, almost hidden beneath the endless chorus of insects and rustling branches, I heard another set of footsteps moving in the dark.
Slow and steady.
That was the worst part about being hunted by Rhys. He never sounded frantic or desperate. He just moved through the woods with the same calm and patience he brought to everything else, like he already knew exactly how it would end and was simply enjoying the process of getting there.
I ducked beneath another low branch. My pulse was hammering hard enough to hurt now, adrenaline buzzing beneath my skin, but underneath all of that was something else too. Something hot and anticipatory that only grew more intense every time I heard him getting closer.
Three years ago, this would've felt like a nightmare.
Now it just felt like foreplay.
A little laugh escaped me at the thought, breathless and disbelieving, because if somebody had shown a younger me a snapshot of this moment, she would've thought she'd completely lost her mind.
Maybe she would've been right.
I vaulted over a fallen log and nearly slipped on the wet bark before catching myself at the last second. Somewhere behind me, Rhys chuckled softly.
“There you are,” he called.
“Fuck off,” I shot back, trying not to smile.
“No, seriously. I almost lost you for a minute there. I’m proud of you, baby.”
I rolled my eyes even as heat bloomed in my chest. Then I took off again, weaving faster between the trees now, lungs burning from exertion while our secluded little lake house disappeared farther behind me with every step.
Rhys had bought the house after I suggested that it might be nice to have our own vacation place to escape the city on occasion, and he’d taken that as permission to turn the surrounding woods into his own private psychopath playground.
Tripwires. False trails. Buried speakers that occasionally whispered my name just to fuck with me.
A branch snapped somewhere off to my right. I pivoted sharply, changing direction toward the creek, heart thudding faster as another laugh drifted through the darkness behind me. He sounded closer now. Much closer.
Shit.
I broke into a faster run, ducking between two massive pine trees just as my foot caught against something thin stretched low across the ground.
The line snapped taut instantly.
“Oh, you mother—”
The net jerked violently upward around me before I could finish the sentence, yanking me off balance hard enough that a shriek tore out of me. Leaves exploded beneath me while the hidden mechanism tightened, pinning my legs together and trapping one of my arms awkwardly against my chest.
For a few stunned seconds, I just lay there tangled in rope and netting, breathing hard. Then slow footsteps crunched through the leaves nearby.
Rhys emerged from between the trees a second later, dark hoodie sleeves pushed up to his elbows. His mouth twitched as he looked at me trapped in the net.
“Twenty-nine minutes,” he said. “That’s a new personal best.”
“You rigged a fucking snare trap.”
“It’s technically a capture net.”
“You belong on a watchlist,” I said, laughing softly despite myself.
His expression shifted slightly at the sound, something warmer flickering beneath the amusement.
“You almost made it to the creek this time,” he said. “I’m impressed.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Are you going to let me out now?”
His gaze slowly slid over my body before returning to my face again, and a shiver crawled down my spine as he reached into the pocket of his hoodie and pulled out a knife.
His thumb flicked the blade open with a crisp metallic snap. “Hold still for me, baby.”
The teasing amusement in his voice did nothing to slow the adrenaline crashing through my veins as he leaned over me and slid the knife beneath one of the thick cords pinning my leg inside the net.
The blade passed so close to my skin that I could feel the cold of the metal through the thin fabric of my tank top.
With one sharp slice, the rope gave way with a clean thwip.
Rhys’s eyes lifted to mine, dark and steady. “See? I’d never hurt you.”
“Unless I want you to,” I murmured, lips quirking.
A low laugh rumbled from his chest. “That’s different, and you know it.”
He worked slowly and deliberately. Each cut loosened the net a fraction more, keeping me trapped just long enough for the anticipation to twist tighter in my belly.
The blade flashed again in the dim light filtering between the trees, severing the final cord near my thigh. With that, the entire net collapsed beneath me.
Before I could draw breath, Rhys caught me around the waist and dragged me against him. Pine needles crunched as he pushed me onto my back on the forest floor, one hand braced beside my head, the other still holding the knife.
His palm slid up to cup my jaw, then wrapped around my throat.
Not squeezing hard; just resting there, claiming me.
A helpless moan slipped from me, and his grip tightened, cutting off just enough air to make my pulse spike.
Then his mouth crashed down on mine in a bruising kiss, and my back arched hard off the ground, chasing the edge like it was oxygen.
The knife dragged down my side, the tip scraping lightly over fabric and skin. Then came the sharp tear of cloth as he sliced cleanly through the front of my tank top.
“Rhys,” I gasped against his lips.
His eyes met mine, dark with hunger and wicked amusement. “Hold. Still.”
The blade moved lower. One ruthless stroke split my leggings from waistband to ankle, and a second later, my underwear snapped apart. Cool night air kissed my bare skin.
Rhys’s breathing had grown heavier, chest rising beneath the dark hoodie. The knife hovered at my throat now, the tip resting just beneath my jaw, pressing lightly into the frantic flutter of my pulse.
“Tell me what you want,” he demanded, voice rough.
I swallowed against the steel, eyes locked on him. “I want you.”
“Not good enough.” The tip dug in a fraction harder, a sharp sting that made me whimper. “Try again.”
The danger should’ve terrified me, but instead I just felt seen. Like he alone understood all the twisted things I craved in the dark.
“I want you to fuck me,” I breathed, voice shaking. “And… I want you to keep the knife.”
A slow, dangerous smile curved his mouth. “That’s what you want?”
“Yes.” The word came out broken. “Please.”
He dragged the blade downward in a feather-light line between my breasts, over my stomach, until the cold tip rested just above my pussy. I didn’t dare move. Then he flipped the knife in his hand, pressing the thick black rubber handle against my clit.
“You want to come on this, don’t you?” he murmured, voice dripping with filthy satisfaction.
“Yes,” I whimpered.
He circled the handle over my swollen clit in slow, torturous strokes until my thighs trembled. When he finally pushed it lower and sank it inside me, I moaned loudly, clenching around the unfamiliar thickness.
He made a pleased sound low in his throat. “Look at you,” he growled, pulling the handle free for a moment. It glistened with my arousal, even in the low light. “So fucking wet for a knife.”
He thrust it back in deeper, pairing it with slow drags of his thumb over my clit. I was shaking and teetering on the edge when he suddenly withdrew everything and flipped me onto my stomach.
He yanked my hips up, roughly forcing me onto my hands and knees, and his free hand returned to my throat, squeezing as the thick head of his cock nudged my dripping entrance.
I thought he’d sink into me then, but instead he dropped his hand from my throat and plunged his fingers between my legs, gathering the wetness from my pussy and spreading it over my asshole.
I shivered with anticipation, assuming he was going to fuck my ass, and then I heard a click as he folded the blade of the knife back inside the handle. Then I felt the blunt rubber press against my ass instead of his cock.
“I’m taking both holes at the same time,” he rasped against my ear. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
There was no room for doubt in his voice. No hesitation. Just stone-cold certainty. He really knew every little piece of me. My fears, my cravings, every filthy secret I’d buried deep inside until I met him.
“Fuck, yes,” I moaned.
“It’s going to hurt, baby,” he said. “And you’re going to love every second of it.”
He pushed forward in one brutal thrust, cock stretching my pussy while the thick handle forced its way into my ass. The sudden, burning fullness ripped a cry from my throat as pain and pleasure twisted together so sharply I nearly blacked out.
“Fuck,” Rhys groaned, voice ragged. “So goddamn tight.”
He didn’t give me time to adjust. He fucked me hard, driving deep with every thrust while working the knife handle in the same ruthless rhythm. The dual stretch was overwhelming, and I reached between my legs, frantically rubbing my clit as broken moans spilled from me.
“You’re taking it so well,” he snarled, slapping my ass hard enough to sting. “Such a perfect little slut for me.”
I couldn’t respond as the pressure inside me built impossibly fast. I could only nod and gasp.
“Come,” he ordered, voice like gravel. “Right fucking now.”
The orgasm tore through me like lightning. I screamed, clenching violently around his cock and the knife handle as wave after wave crashed over me, and he fucked me straight through it, merciless, until my arms gave out and I collapsed onto my forearms.
A moment later, he pulled out with wet, obscene sounds. He flipped me onto my back again and straddled my chest, pumping his glistening cock with his fist.
“Open,” he growled.
I obeyed immediately, and he shoved between my lips with a guttural groan, flooding my mouth with hot, thick pulses. I swallowed every drop, eyes locked on his face.