Page 45 of Ravaged By a Devil

"Catch me if you can," I whisper softly against his skin.

Without waiting another second for his reaction, I turn on my heel and take off running down the steps, my feet flying across the cool, damp grass toward the shadowy expanse of the grounds.

Just before I reach the tree line, I can’t resist sneaking a glance over my shoulder.

Cain hasn't even moved. He is still sitting on the patio couch, taking a slow sip of his tea, watching me with that maddeningly calm, unbothered expression. Arrogant prick.

He’s deliberately giving me a head start, completely confident that the distance won't save me.

Determined to prove him wrong, I pick up my pace and dive straight into the shadowed tree line.

The brush is surprisingly thick, dense branches catching on my lounge set as I weave deeper into the dark. I stumble over an exposed tree root, barely catching my balance, before ducking under a cluster of hanging vines.

I can't help but wonder why on earth he even has this kind of wild, untamed wilderness on his property.

My lungs begin to burn, and my bare feet sink into the damp, soft earth. Driven by sheer adrenaline and the refusal to be caught so easily, I keep pushing forward until my knees go weak with exhaustion.

Finally, I skid to a halt against the trunk of a massive oak, gasping for air.

I press my back against the rough bark, my heart hammering like a war drum in my chest. I strain my ears, listening intently through the rustling leaves for the heavy crunch of footsteps behind me.

Silence.

Nothing but the distant chirp of crickets and the soft night wind through the branches.

Wait.

Is he even coming?

A sudden, sinking realization settles in my chest, rapidly replacing the excitement with a cold wave of embarrassment. What if he wasn't giving me a head start at all? What if that look was just him letting me play my little childish game alone—being completely uninterested in chasing me down?

I frown, folding my arms tightly over my chest as my cheeks burn in the dark. How humiliating. I just sprinted like a madwoman into a dark forest while he’s probably still sitting up on the deck, enjoying his tea in peace.

The soft, dry crunch of leaves breaks the stillness directly behind me.

I freeze, my body going utterly rigid against the rough bark of the oak. A low, dark chuckle reverberates through the shadows, smooth and terrifyingly close.

"Tired already, Alexis?"

Adrenaline explodes in my chest like a burst of white-hot fire. Panic—pure, instinctual, and raw—overwrites every rational thought. I don't look back. I just throw myself forward, my feet tearing up the damp earth as I sprint blindly into the deeper gloom.

This time, it isn't a game.

The playful thrill vanishes, replaced by the primitive terror of a hunted creature. My heart batters violently against my ribs, each thud echoing in my ears like a death march. Cold sweat breaks across my skin, slicking my neck and spine as I crash through the dense brush, branches whipping violently against my arms and face.

Behind me, the chase is terrifyingly silent except for the rhythmic, effortless crunch of heavy steps closing the gap. He isn't breathless. He isn't struggling. He is tracking me with the fluid, lethal grace of a wild predator stalking prey that has nowhere left to run.

A low, dark rumble of laughter echoes through the trees behind my left shoulder, sending a spike of absolute horror straight down my spine.

A tear of pure desperation pricks the corners of my eyes, stinging as the wind rushes past. My lungs burn, gasping for air, but every instinct screaming inside my head tells me that if I stop, if I slip, if I even hesitate for a fraction of a second, the beast behind me will devour me whole.

My foot catches on an exposed root twisted in the earth, and my balance vanishes. I gasp as the ground rushes up to meet me, my hands flying out uselessly to break the fall.

Before I hit the dirt, a massive arm swoops around my waist, a steel band catching me mid-air and hauling my weight effortlessly back against a hard, broad chest.

"Caught you," Cain whispers directly against my ear, his deep, gravelly voice sending a violent tremor straight down my spine.

Instinct takes over. A sudden wave of panic and raw adrenaline surges through me, and I begin thrashing wildly against him—squirming, fighting, my nails scratching at his wrists and forearms as I desperately fight to break his iron grip. My heart is hammering so fast I can barely breathe, and the sheer terror of being completely overpowered is real, suffocating, and terrifyingly vivid.