4. See You in the Dark
~ SAM ~
A few hours later it was dark outside when I woke as Bridget got up. She tried to sneak out of the room, but I rolled out of bed and hurried after her.
She padded barefoot up the hallway and had just entered the living room when she stopped dead. I smiled.
She’d noticed the present bag that was still on the floor next to the couch.
She heard my footsteps approaching and turned. My heart squeezed—her hair was messy, her cheek pink from where she’d been laying on it, and her eyes were a little puffy from the crying the day before. She looked… fragile. But she smiled when our eyes met.
“When do I get the next present?”
“It’s our Anti-Christmas. You choose. But you don’t get into that bag without me. Only the Anti-Santa can actually distribute rewards.”
She grinned and put her hands to my chest as I reached her and gathered her in to kiss her quickly.
“Mmmm,” she hummed, then pulled back far enough to meet my eyes again. “I’m hungry. I’m going to make some food for both of us. And I’d like another present please, Anti- Santa.”
“The naughty girl will get what she deserves,” I growled, grabbing her ass so she squeaked. “But you need to eat later, or get the present later.”
Her brow furrowed. “Why?”
“Because I don’t like to eat before I exercise.”
“Exercise?” She arched a brow at me like she was playing, but I saw the fear flash in her eyes. “You’re going to leave?”
I pulled her in tight again, shaking my head. “No. But I have another present for you, and I think you’re going to want to use it right away. And that’s going to take some exercise.”
I grinned as her frown relaxed and her expression became mischievous.
“Now, I’m intrigued, Anti-Santa. So how do I get the next present?”
“Sit on my lap,” I growled, walking her backwards towards the living room.
“Didn’t I do that already?” she sniggered.
“A fair point. But the Anti-Santa likes to get his lap warmed as often as possible.” To prove it, I leaned down and swept her up, carrying her across the room to the couch and plonking down on it with her still in my arms.
It was awkward to reach down to the bag with her there, but I didn’t want to let go, and while I pulled the bag up next to me on the couch and dug through it, she kept stroking my chest and wriggling, so that by the time I could turn my attention back to her I was already half-hard.
“Very naughty. Good girl,” I growled and she laughed again, her eyes brightening at the present.
She reached for it, but I held it out of her reach. “Hey now, patience.”
“Patience? But I’m a naughty girl!” she protested.
“And that’s exactly why we’re here,” I said, keeping my voice low the way I knew she liked. I shrugged. “You’ve been very naughty, running from me all year.”
Her jaw dropped. “I am not accepting that as a naughty count, Anti-Santa. You love that!”
“I do,” I responded, pretending it was a solemn truth. “Which is precisely why I’m rewarding you, remember?”
Her eyebrows waggled as I handed her the box. This one was bigger, but light and she stared at it for a second, obviously guessing what was inside.
She looked at me with a wicked grin and tore at the paper, yanking the ribbon off and struggling with it until she’d levered it off the Amazon box and tore that open too, popping the tape and digging through tissue paper inside… to draw out a new set of black running gear.
I’d found some that looked as similar as possible to set she wore to run from me on our very first hunt. She bit her lip as she looked at it, then her eyes snapped up to my face. “I mean, yes please. But—”
“They’re thermal,” I said, pulling out the tag on the shirt to show it to her. “Guaranteed in below-freezing weather. Even if you get wet.”
Her lips tightened. “And we both know how wet I get.”
I struggled not to laugh, just nodded. “Exactly.”
Her eyes widened. “You said we could use it now?!”
“I mean, if you want t—”
She squealed and leaped off my lap. “I’m going stir-crazy in here. This is perfect, Sam. You’re amazing.”
She leaned down once to kiss me briefly, but deeply. And just as I was grabbing for her hips, she pulled away, laughing. “I’m going to change, and you have to give me at least a little bit of a head start.”
I arched one brow. “The prey does not get to choose when the hunter hunts.”
She propped one hand on her hip. “Samuel Priestley, you’re supposed to be a gentleman. You told me—”
“I will be a gentleman for my wife any day of the week. But do you really want me gentle when I’m hunting, Bridge?” I murmured, letting my voice drop low and gruff.
Her breath huffed and her eyes sparked—then dropped to look at me sitting there in nothing but my Krampus pants.
“I don’t think those are made for a Pacific Northwest winter, do you Sam?” she asked slyly, already yanking the tags off her new clothes and pulling them on in front of me.
I frowned. Fuck. She was right.
Cursing, I shoved out of the couch and ran for the hallway, Bridget cackling in my wake. But she didn’t know I’d been prepared for this all along. It would take me thirty seconds to get dressed. Hopefully she wouldn’t get too far ahead.
Smiling to myself because she was brighter than I’d seen her in weeks, I thanked God for this idea, and grabbed my clothes and my phone which I’d left in the walk-in closet. Chuckling as I hurriedly dressed—and cursing when I heard the back door slam because she’d already run outside—I tapped the phone and pulled up the tracker that she didn’t know was in the waistband of those pants. Smiling when I saw the little circle that was her, outside in the yard, I shoved the phone into my back pocket and ran for the door, imagining taking her down somewhere in the neighbor’s yard—or further away. I knew in a pinch she’d try to reach one of the neighborhood parks where there were thickets of trees and deep shadows and no one around at this time of night. But I was hoping to find her sooner than that.
If she didn’t hide. She’d become sneaky in recent months, figuring out that she couldn’t outrun me, so she used her smaller stature and weight to her advantage and tried to find crevices and shadows to hide in.
That was why I used the tracker. I’d play along for a short time so she felt like it wasn’t too easy. But I’d take her down as quickly as I could.
Yanking on my shoes in the garage, I threw myself out the side door, figuring she would have headed to the darker side of the house—and stopped dead.
Bridget hadn’t run.
Despite the darkness, I could see her form clearly—tiny and lithe… and silhouetted by the massive display of Christmas lights from our neighbor across the road.
Shit.
She heard my feet pounding out of the garage even though I drew up short when I saw her, and her body turned like she’d come to me. But her eyes stayed fixed on those flashing lights and I wanted to scream.
I hurried to her, pulling her to me. “Bridget—”
“I forgot,” she breathed, and I wanted to punch the dark because that playful breathlessness had turned into fear. “I forgot they… I should have thought—”
“No, Bridget, I should have thought. I’m sorry.”
I took her hand and pulled her around to face me, keeping her back to the lights and looking down at her, as she stared up at me, her eyes welling with tears.
“Focus on me,” I said quietly, gruffly.
Her throat bobbed and she nodded, blinking back the tears. But she was already trembling. Then her head turned. I grabbed her chin and pulled her back.
“Bridget, eyes on me.”
Her breath whooshed out of her, and she nodded, still blinking rapidly.
With a growl, I picked her up and darted across the driveway, behind the line of trees, to the spot where the fence ran into the northern neighbor’s garage and there was a flat wall—and those fucking lights were hidden by the trees. I pinned her up against it and tipped her chin up again.
“We’re here, Bridge,” I growled. “You and me, together. It’s just us. Nothing else. No one else.”
A car rolled past down the street, but we were safely obscured from view by the trees and even though she flinched, her eyes didn’t leave mine.
“Lock in. Stay with me,” I whispered. “Breathe.”