Chapter 35 Chase Me

Chapter 35 Chase Me
Run, little bird.

The words echoed in the canopy, bouncing off the ancient oaks until it sounded like the woods themselves were mocking me. I didn't look back. I knew what was there. I could hear the rhythmic, terrifyingly easy thud of his boots on the damp earth. He wasn’t sprinting; he was lopping, a predator enjoying the way the prey’s heart drummed out its final, frantic song.

"You’re slowing down, Elara!" his voice drifted from the shadows to my left, sudden and close.

I shrieked, veering right, my bare feet slipping on a patch of slick moss. I went down hard, my palms skidding over sharp shale, but the adrenaline was a deafening roar in my ears. I scrambled up, the "mark" on my neck pulsing with a violet heat that seemed to synchronize with the heavy thud of his approach.

The sound of rushing water hit me before I saw it. A roar, deep and guttural, cutting through the silence of the trees.

The river.

I burst through a thicket of ferns and skidded to a halt. The bank was a steep, muddy drop-off into a churning vein of black water, swollen by the recent storms. It looked cold enough to stop a heart, the white foam of the rapids snapping like teeth against the rocks.

I spun around, my back to the abyss.

Callum stepped out from the treeline. He wasn't even out of breath. The firelight of the cave was gone, replaced by the pale, ghostly silver of the moon that turned his skin to alabaster and his eyes to chips of frozen sea. He looked at me, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his face as he tucked his hands into his pockets.

"Cornered," he mused, his voice a low, melodic vibration that carried over the roar of the water. "The forest didn't want to hide you, did it? Even the earth knows you belong to me."

"I'd rather the river have me than you," I gasped, my chest heaving, my hair a matted, wild mess around my face.

"The river is cold, Elara. It’s indifferent." He took a slow step forward, his gaze dropping to the way the torn silk clung to my damp skin. "I, however, am very, very warm."

"Stay back!" I screamed, stepping onto the crumbling edge of the bank.

"Or what? You'll jump?" Callum laughed, a sharp, jagged sound. "Go ahead. I’ve always liked my prizes a little breathless."

I didn't think. If I stayed, I was a doll to be broken. If I jumped, I was a girl with a chance. I closed my eyes and threw myself backward into the dark.

The impact was a physical blow. The water was a wall of ice that punched the air from my lungs. I sank, the weight of the sodden dress pulling me down into the silent, freezing dark. For a second, it was peaceful. No chains, no monsters, no marks. Just the numb, crushing embrace of the current.

Then, a second splash.

A hand, large and unrelenting, grabbed the back of my dress. I was hauled upward, my head breaking the surface just as the current slammed us against a submerged boulder. I gasped, choking on silt and cold water, my hands flailing until they caught a fistful of soaked wool.

Callum didn't let go. He used the momentum of the river to swing us into a shallow eddy behind a cluster of rocks. He slammed me against the muddy bank, his body a heavy, steaming weight that pinned me into the silt.

"You... insane... little... bitch," he growled, his voice thick with a terrifying mix of rage and exhilaration.

He was soaked, his dark hair plastered to his forehead, his white shirt translucent against his skin. He didn't wait for me to recover. His mouth crashed against mine, a violent, desperate invasion that tasted of river water and raw, unbridled hunger.

I fought him, my hands slipping on his wet shoulders, my fingernails digging into the muscle of his neck. I tried to scream into his mouth, but he swallowed the sound, his tongue forcing its way past my teeth with a dominance that made my head spin.

"Fight me," he hissed against my lips, his hand sliding down to the shredded hem of my dress. He didn't just touch; he gripped, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of my thigh, pulling me up to meet the hard, rhythmic thrust of his hips. "I want you to fight. I want to feel every ounce of that pathetic human defiance before I break it."

He moved his mouth to my jaw, biting down on the sensitive skin until I let out a jagged cry. His other hand found my breast through the wet silk, cupping me with a bruising force. He didn't care about the cold or the mud; he was a furnace, his body radiating a heat that felt like a violation against the freezing river water.

"You're mine," he groaned, his voice a filthy rasp in my ear. "Do you hear me? Azran couldn't keep you. The river couldn't keep you. I will hunt you through every hell this world has to offer just to put my hands back on this skin."

He grabbed both of my wrists, pinning them into the mud above my head. He looked down at me, his pale eyes glowing with a terrifying, manic light. He looked like a god of the drown, beautiful and monstrous, his face dripping with the water that had nearly killed us both.

"Look at you," he whispered, his gaze raking over my trembling, half-naked form. "Bloodied, soaked, and ruined. You look exactly like the masterpiece I knew you were."

He leaned down, his mouth hovering just over the mark on my neck. I could feel the vibration of his low, predatory growl against my skin.

"The hunt is over, Elara," he murmured, his teeth grazing the scar. "Now, we play by my rules."

I lay there, pinned between the cold mud and his burning weight, the roar of the river drowning out my sobs. I had run until I couldn't breathe, I had jumped into the mouth of death, and still, I was right where I started.

In his hands. Under his shadow. Marked.