Chapter 22 Run #2
Oh, he said that before. I never believed him.
Tonight, though? There’s something different about him.
And I don’t just mean because he opened up to me.
I opened up to him, too, and I feel like a huge weight’s been lifted off my shoulders.
I thought… I thought that, if he found out about Eric, he would invoke the termination clause in the marriage agreement.
Only he didn’t. Instead, he gave me a piece of jewelry made from the ashes of said agreement.
The same piece of jewelry that is bouncing up and down, hitting my chin, hitting my chest as I race through the trees.
Branches whip at my arms as I sprint through them, my breath catching, my heart thundering in my chest.
I know it’s stupid. Running… I know that I can’t outrun Sebastien. I can’t outrun his feelings or mine. Even more importantly, if I keep it up, a tiny part of me is convinced that he’ll follow like he said.
I wasn’t kidding, though. I just need space.
A minute where I can make sense of all of this.
I feel like I’ve been running since Alexandre’s party last night when Eric found me and Sebastien threatened him.
Sure, my legs weren’t moving like they are now, but I’ve barely taken a deep breath until this moment.
Shit. That’s not even a deep breath. That’s gasping as I struggle to get in enough air. Running, Annaliese? Really? I don’t know what I was thinking.
Well, no. I can answer that. Because the truth is? I totally wasn’t thinking, was I?
I just took off, and as I hear leaves crunching behind me…
slow and steady footfalls… the sound of someone stalking my loud steps…
I know that Sebastien did come after me.
He’s not even trying to hide. It’s like he wants me to hear how easily he’s been able to catch up to me, and just in case I start freaking out that it’s a stranger on his family’s mountain land, he calls out for me.
“Annaliese.”
It’s my name, deep and rough and too, too close.
Where is he? I spare a few precious seconds to look behind me. I don’t see him, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t there.
“I know you can hear me, love. That’s fine. Keep running if that’s what you need.”
I nearly trip over my sneakers. Because that? That wasn’t permission from my husband.
That was a challenge.
He must be closer than I first guessed. I choke on my gasping breath, tripping again because my brain wants me to go faster than my feet. Shaking it off, I duck around another tree before cursing to see that I’ve reached the edge of the damn mountain.
There are still woods all around me, but right ahead? That’s a cliff, and if I keep running, I’ll take the same sort of swan dive that his Julie did.
What now? There’s nowhere left to run. I’m not even sure why I bolted in the first place. It’s not like I really can outrun my sins or my husband. I gave it a good try, though, my mistakes and my insecurities and my goddamn fantasies for what could’ve been dogging my every step.
All of that, plus Sebastien because all I hear is the drumbeat of his boots against the dirt before, suddenly, he’s there.
A hand closes around my wrist.
It’s not rough. Not punishing. It’s a gentle grab with a more forceful tug, snagging me, pulling me back. I take a half-turn, not sure how to react, before he decides for me. My captor spins me fully, my free hand going up in time to slam my palm against Sebastien’s slightly heaving chest.
He reaches around me, laying his hand on the small of my back. I’m trapped, and I have nowhere to look but up at him.
His hair is slightly mussed from the run. Beneath the moonlight, his eyes are bright with excitement and something hungry.
“Got you,” he murmurs, a hint of a smile ghosting his lips.
Like he’s happy he caught me. Like he’s thrilled I ran in the first place.
Like he’d do this again and again, and no matter what, he’ll always be there to catch me…
And he does. Have me, I mean. And maybe I didn’t really mean to run.
With everything happening… with this thing between us getting way too real…
I bolted, believing that I would only piss my fake husband off by fleeing.
But that expression is the farthest thing from ‘pissed’, and all I can think about is how he chased me. I ran, he followed, and now I’m caught.
Literally.
Never losing that grin, his face shadowing over, Sebastien moves. His hold on my wrist tightens, his body pushing against mine, and I’m helpless to do anything other than trip over my feet as he backs me up until my spine hits the solid bark of one of these too many trees.
The shock of contact snaps another breath out of me, then his name. “Sebastien—”
“No.”
His tone is light, almost playful, as he edges impossibly closer, crowding my space until there’s nowhere for either of us to go except into each other.
His cologne goes to my head. I was already dizzy, from panic and fear and the anxiousness I hid for too long, but the essence of Sebastien overwhelms all my other senses. I see him, breathe him, need him… but I can’t have him. He’s not mine. Not really.
And I’ve been fooling myself that I can keep this thing we have strictly professional. I’d break every damn clause in the contract if I could. I wish I was stronger. I wish I’d met Sebastien before another man ruined me. I wish—
“Annaliese. Love. Look at me. Look at your husband.”
My hands fall to my sides. My eyes snap back to his face.
And, knowing that he has my complete, undivided attention, his grin widens into a small delicious smirk.
Shit. My breathing stutters, heat spiking low in my belly in a way I can’t ignore—or hide. He has to know.
He has to.
Sebastien releases my wrist. I don’t even think of trying to buck against him so I can make my escape. He knows that, too. Still smirking, his hand slides up my side, slow and absolutely deliberate, before he wraps his fingers purposely around my throat.
It’s a soft hold. More question than warning, though I can’t pretend I don’t see what this really is.
A claiming. Not an Order Claiming, but something different. Something more meaningful. Sebastien is pinning me in place beneath him, keeping me right where he wants me.
My knees nearly give out, but I’m not worried. If they do? He’ll catch me before I fall. I believe that with everything I am even though I shouldn’t. Then again, this is Sebastien Reynolds. He is the definition of shouldn’t, but God help me, I want to so fucking badly.
His thumb rests against the pulse hammering frantically beneath my skin.
“I caught you, love,” Sebastien says quietly, eyes locked on mine. “And now you’re mine.”
I am, aren’t I?
Then again, haven’t I been since that night in the Last Prayer?