Chapter 24
Amber
The van rocks gently in the wind as Bastiaan pulls us off the highway into a stretch of forest that feels like the middle of nowhere. Denmark is all pines and stillness, a vast, damp wilderness that should feel safe. It doesn’t.
He drives down a narrow dirt track until the trees close around us, the last traces of the highway vanishing in the rearview mirror.
When he finally eases the van to a stop, the world goes still.
He kills the engine, and the sudden silence makes my ears ring.
My whole body buzzes with adrenaline, coiled tight as a spring.
“They’re gone,” he says at last, his voice low, scanning the tree line like he doesn’t entirely believe it.
His hands flex on the wheel, knuckles pale against the dark leather.
He’s calm on the outside, but I’ve been around him long enough to read the signs—his jaw is tight, his shoulders rigid, every nerve still strung like wire.
I nod, but the fear doesn’t fade. It sits in my throat and chest, sharp and heavy, in the tremor that won’t leave my hands. My breath fogs the window, proof of how shallow and uneven it is.
“Bas…” My voice comes out as barely a whisper. “What if they catch up?”
“They won’t.” He turns to me fully, and the intensity in his dark eyes pins me to the seat. “I won’t let anything happen to you, liefje.”
The endearment hits me like a spark to dry grass, catching fast and hot. Heat roars through me, drowning the fear. My stomach flips, my pulse surges for an entirely different reason. I don’t think. I move.
I unbuckle and climb into his lap, straddling him in the driver’s seat. His big hands catch my hips automatically, a low, guttural sound tearing from his chest as if he’s been holding himself back for miles.
“Fuck, Amber—” His voice is rough, frayed. Then his mouth crashes to mine, all teeth and need, kissing me like he’s been starved of it. His lips are hot, his stubble scraping my skin, and I taste the edge of coffee and adrenaline on his tongue.
I can feel how hard he is already, thick and solid against me through his jeans.
I grind down instinctively, desperate for friction, and the pressure makes my head spin.
His hands grip my arse, rough and claiming, rocking me against him like he can’t decide if he’s guiding me or holding himself together.
“We don’t have time,” he rasps against my neck, kissing, nipping, leaving heat in his wake. “But I need you—God, I fucking need you.”
“Then fuck me,” I whisper, breathless, my fingers twisted in his hair.
He doesn’t hesitate. One hand shoves my t-shirt up and yanks my leggings down just enough, the other fumbling with the button of his jeans.
The metal scrapes against my thigh before the heat of him presses against me, thick and urgent.
The moment he thrusts inside, hard and perfect, I gasp so loud it echoes in the van.
The shock of him—hot, stretching, filling—robs me of thought.
My forehead drops to his shoulder, and my nails dig into the material of his jacket as he grips my hips, lifting me into a rhythm that’s fast and brutal, desperate in its need.
The van creaks with every movement, the suspension rocking in time, the windows instantly fogging as heat blooms between us.
“Jesus, you’re so tight,” he groans, voice low and filthy in my ear. His words vibrate through me, curling low in my belly. “Been thinking about this… every damn night… and now you’re riding me like you’re mine.”
“I am,” I pant, bouncing in his lap, chasing the sharp edge of pleasure. “Bas—God—I am.”
He growls, one hand sliding up my spine, the other fisting in my hair.
He tilts my head back and devours my mouth in a kiss that’s almost violent, all hunger and need.
Every thrust drives me higher, sharp shocks of pleasure tightening my core until the rest of the world—forest, van, danger—ceases to exist.
I shatter first, my whole body tightening, pulsing around him as I cling to his broad shoulders.
The sound that rips from my throat is half sob, half scream, muffled against his neck.
He groans my name, low and raw, and follows me over the edge with one last rough thrust and a muttered, “Fuck, Amber—yes—”
We collapse against each other, trembling, the van filled only with our ragged breathing, the tick of the cooling engine, and the whisper of wind through the pines. My cheek rests against the warmth of his neck, and for a moment, the danger outside feels like a bad dream.
But reality creeps back in. The Reapers are still out there. The black van could find us again. We’re still running.
Bastiaan’s hand slides up my back, holding me tight as his breath slows. “You okay?” he murmurs against my hair.
I nod, though my chest still feels tight. “I… I just needed to feel you. To forget. Even for a minute.”
His lips brush my temple. “I know. I needed it too.”
For that quick, desperate moment, we are the only two people in the world. And even though the fear waits just outside these fogged windows, wrapped in pine-scented air and the echo of tyres on wet roads, I feel… lighter.
Because no matter what waits for us out there, I’m not facing it alone.