Chapter 8
Chad didn’t say anything more, and though he was still tired, he was excited for the day ahead.
It would be fun to spend time with Peter, letting their natures run free, even if Peter was only doing it because he need a distraction from his own real world helplessness.
Closing his eyes, Chad tried to imagine what it would be like to run through the woods with Peter on his trail, knowing every step of the way that capture was inevitable.
It would be exhilarating.
He couldn’t wait.
***
Peter watched as Chad drifted off to sleep, and for the hundredth time he marveled at just how perfect his mate was for him.
Most alphas would balk at the idea of being chased and hunted by someone stronger than themselves—the idea abhorrent in the extreme—but Chad didn’t so much as bat an eye.
There was no discomfort in Chad’s submission.
It came naturally, and yet Chad never lost sight of the fact that he was an alpha too—stronger even than most of his peers.
Peter loved it.
As he drove south, taking back roads and making sure that no one was following them, Peter kept looking over at Chad’s sleeping form.
The steady rise and fall of his chest, his face squished against the window, made Peter’s heart swell with a kind of love he’d never thought himself capable of until he met the younger man.
It was possessive and hot, and just the idea of losing him made Peter’s teeth itch for blood.
“I can feel you staring at me,” Chad mumbled, startling Peter and making him jerk the wheel harshly to the right. He corrected himself immediately, the car jerking unpleasantly. They’d been driving for two hours, and Peter had gotten used to the quiet.
“You’re awake,” he said, surprised.
Chad sat up straight, yawning wide and wiping his chin of drool before looking at Peter with a sleepy grin.
“Barely. Are we almost there?” Chad pushed his chest forward and his shoulders back as he spoke, stretching his back and yawning again.
“About fifteen minutes,” Peter answered.
“Cool,” Chad said, leaning back into his seat with a happy look on his face. His stomach rumbled and he looked at Peter. “Did you bring any food?”
“There are sandwiches in the bag,” Peter said, nodding his head toward the back seat where he’d stashed his backpack. “You can grab one now if you’re hungry.”
“Of course I’m hungry,” Chad grumbled, reaching back and yanking the oversized bag into his lap. “You didn’t give me a chance to eat breakfast when you went all caveman on me this morning.”
Peter snorted. He might have been a little amped up when he made the decision to take Chad out into the wilderness with him, but he felt calmer now. Marginally.
“Sorry about that,” he said. Chad snorted, digging a sandwich out of the bag before putting it back into the back of the Jeep.
“No you’re not,” he said, unwrapping the sandwich. “You love acting like a total Neanderthal.”
Peter couldn’t deny it.
“You love it too,” he said, making Chad laugh.
“I guess I do.” Chad took a big bite of his sandwich. “Just don’t club me over the head or anything before dragging me back to your cave.”
“I won’t,” Peter promised.
***
Half an hour later, Chad jumped out of the Jeep and took in his surroundings.
They were on a dirt paved road, just wide enough for two cars to pass each other, about two miles down the road from the gate marking the beginning of Peter’s family’s property.
The forest on either side of the road was thick and old, with no discernible trail or path anywhere to be seen.
Except for the road, they were in the wilderness.
“You ready?” Peter asked, coming up behind Chad and slinging an arm over his shoulders. Chad leaned into Peter’s side and shrugged. He really he had no idea.
“We’ll see,” he said. He was excited, and he trusted Peter to make sure he had fun—even if that fun was mixed with a hefty dose of adrenaline.
“I’ve got some stuff for you,” Peter said, stepping away from Chad and dropping his backpack down on the ground.
He crouched down and reached into the side pocket, pulling out a walkie-talkie and what Chad recognized as a GPS tracker.
“These are just for backup,” Peter said, handing both items to Chad.
“In case something happens or if we need to get a hold of each other.”
“That sounds like a good idea,” Chad said.
He clipped the walkie-talkie onto his belt and tucked the GPS tracker into the side pocket of his cargo pants.
When he looked up he tilted his head and gave Peter a considering look.
“So are we actually doing any hiking together or was that never part of the plan?”
Peter’s answering grin was almost scary.
“I’ll give you an hour and a half head start. Your goal is to evade capture for at least three hours after that.”
Chad’s cock hardened inside his briefs, and when he looked down at Peter’s crotch the alpha’s crotch was bulging obscenely.
“And if I can’t?” Chad’s voice sounded hoarse.
Peter licked his lips, his grin widening until he was baring his teeth. He took a step forward and grabbed the lapels of Chad’s jacket, holding him in place. He leaned in and licked his lips. “Then I’ll have to punish you.”
Chad swallowed. Peter’s hands were pulling his jacket tight in a way that made him feel deliciously trapped, fabric tight around his shoulders, and his cock throbbed with need.
“Are you ready?” Peter let go and stepped back, lifting his wrist up and doing something with his watch. Setting the timer, Chad realized. He glanced up, raising his eyebrow as he waited for an answer.
Chad nodded, and Peter pushed the small button on the side of his watch, making it beep.
The small sound sent a jolt through Chad’s body, but he stayed glued to the spot.
Peter then crouched down and reached into his backpack, movements slow and unhurried, and pulled out a military grade taser gun.
He rose from his crouch and looked at Chad.
Chad knew he should be running.
“If it takes me less than two hours to find you I’m taking you down with this,” Peter said, holding up the gun before tucking it into his thigh holster.
Chad’s stomach clenched, and his hard cock softened.
He’d been shot with a taser gun during his Tank security training, and it had hurt like a bitch. He had no desire to feel it again.
“I don’t think—"
“Clock’s ticking,” Peter interrupted him. Chad hesitated, but then he decided that he needed to stop fucking around and actually get going. He turned around and started running down the road, feeling Peter’s gaze boring into the back of his head every step of the way.
The chase was on.
***
Chad ran for twenty minutes, following the dirt road as it cut through the dense trees, before taking a hard left and making his way into the forest. He knew that Peter would be able to track him—both by scent and by following his tracks—and he honestly didn’t have a clue how he was supposed to evade capture for over two hours, let alone three.
Not without stumbling across a stream or body of water that he could use to obscure his tracks and force Peter to spend time finding his trail instead of following it.
Two hours was the real goal, Chad thought as he pushed himself to run faster. If he could reach the two-hour mark, any punishment Peter came up with would be of the fun variety. If he couldn’t, however, he knew that Peter wouldn’t hesitate to take him down with the taser like he’d promised.
Chad wondered if there was something wrong with him that he was enjoying the rush of adrenaline that made him feel. Someone bigger and stronger than himself was chasing him, and getting caught too soon would hurt.
He shouldn’t be having fun, but he was. He was running fast, dodging low hanging branches and jumping over raised roots, and with every exhilarating breath he felt his grin stretch wider. He felt alive, and the more he ran the more excited he felt.
Checking his watch, Chad’s heart skipped a beat when he saw that it had been just over an hour since Peter had started the clock. His feet were heavy on the forest floor, and looking over his shoulder he could make out his own trail without a shred of difficulty.
If he could see his own footsteps, Peter wouldn’t even have to slow down to follow them.
Sweating, Chad hoped that he would come across a stream, river or body of water that he could use to throw Peter off his scent sooner rather than later. He pushed himself to run faster, wiping his face with the back of his hand, tasting salty sweat as he dragged his knuckles over his lips.
He was thirsty, and he was starting to feel the burn in his lungs from running at full speed for nearly an hour. The sound of his breathing was loud in his own ears, though Chad knew that he could keep going for at least another hour before he had to slow down.
Then he tripped.
The root that snagged his foot was hidden behind a shrubby little bush, a natural trap for unsuspecting runners, and Chad went tumbling to the ground with a shout of surprise.
He flailed his arms, landing with a thump on his knees and elbows on the surprisingly hard forest floor, a familiar pain shooting up from his ankle.
“Fuck!” Chad grunted, recognizing a sprain when he felt one.
The pain wasn’t bad enough to be a break—when he got to his feet he could still put weight on his foot—but running was going to be an issue.
“Fuckity, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Chad growled, forcing himself to keep going.
His ankle hurt, every step making him wince, but compared to some of the sprains he’d gotten playing football, it wasn’t too bad.
He certainly wasn’t going to call Peter and call off the game.
Moving forward at a much slower pace, Chad checked his watch and felt his pulse soar when he saw that he only had ten minutes before Peter would start hunting him. It felt like he’d just started running. He tried to hurry up, but he was limping and it was a lost cause.
His current speed would have to do.
Five minutes later Chad jerked to a halt. He thought he heard running water. The sound was up ahead, and after straining his ears to make sure he wasn’t just hearing things, he continued forward. A minute later he came across a foot-wide stream cutting through the forest.
He’d never seen anything so beautiful.
Chad stepped into the stream, cold water submerging his boots and soaking his socks, and hurried downstream as fast as his wounded ankle could carry him. Luckily the water was just a few inches deep, so the change in terrain didn’t slow him down too badly.
Chad stayed in the stream for about twenty minutes, making good speed despite his twisted ankle.
The stream varied in depth from just a few inches to almost a foot, and Chad was soaked up to his knees.
The cold water made his toes and feet feel numb, and he regretted wearing cotton socks inside his shoes.
At least he knew that Peter wouldn’t be able to track him this way, Chad thought to himself. Peter was good at tracking people by their scent, but Chad was pretty sure that getting into the water had taken care of that.
Or had it? Peter had an uncanny nose, and now that he thought about it he thought he could remember Peter telling him something about how he could follow people by the particles they released into the air.
The thought made Chad break out into a cold sweat. Peter had already set off after him, and if he didn’t even have to pay attention to Chad’s tracks—if he could just follow the air—that was terrifying.
Chad had an idea. He turned around, the momentary slowdown making him aware of just how out of breath he was, and started jogging back up the stream.
It was harder work, the rushing water working against him, but he almost managed to maintain his previous speed.
Checking his watch as he ran, his pulse skyrocketing with every passing minute, Chad moved closer and closer to the point where he had entered the stream.
He was looking for a tree he’d seen back when he’d first entered the stream, with a thick branch jutting out over the water.
His plan was to get from the stream and onto the branch, and to then somehow move through the trees until he was far enough away that Peter wouldn’t be able to smell him. He didn’t know if it would work, but he didn’t have enough time now to come up with a better plan.
When he reached the tree, Chad slammed his fist down on his thigh and bit off a curse. The branch was much higher than he remembered—so high that he couldn’t even reach it when he stood on his toes.
Peter had been hunting him for an hour, and Chad knew that he didn’t have time to stand there feeling defeated.
Removing his belt, he threw one end up over the thick branch, but the free end didn’t come down enough on the other side that Chad could reach it.
Saying a quick prayer, he threw the belt up again, though this time he let go of his end.
The belt landed on the branch perfectly, each end coming down far enough that Chad could reach them if he jumped.
Balancing on his uninjured leg, Chad launched himself into the air and grabbed a hold of each of the dangling ends of his belt, lifting his legs up and hooking them around the branch before pulling himself up to sit.
He’d done it. Grinning wide, Chad fastened his belt back around his waist and climbed toward the trunk of the tree.
Then he moved up, hopefully far enough that Peter wouldn’t smell him.
Looking around, he tried to figure out how best to get from the tree he was sitting in and into one of its neighbors.
He ventured out onto a sturdy branch, the whole thing dipping dangerously, and looked at the tree next to him.
There was a good three feet between him and the branch he wanted to move to.
It looked like he was going to have to play Tarzan.
***