Ripping the mask from my face to fling it away, I came to a fork in the path, my gaze drifting up to see what I thought was rope hanging from the branches of a tree. Panic tore through me, my body turning right in hopes Tanner wouldn’t find me.
Barely able to drag in a breath due to the tight corset I wore, I had to stop, my mouth gaping to drag in air as I planted a hand against the trunk of a large tree. The bark was rough against my palm, the sensation somehow snapping me out of my flight instinct.
For a brief second, I could think again, anger at myself for how I’d run without standing my ground.
Steeling myself to turn around and find my way back to the party, I grit my teeth and decided I wouldn’t let Tanner and his asshole friends push me around.
But then I heard a twig snap in the distance, followed by the deep rumble of laughter and the bellow of a blowing horn.
I was running again, not toward the party but away from it, my legs gaining speed until my toe caught on a root sticking out of the ground, my body lurching forward, my fall broken by a solid arm wrapping around my waist as a wall of heat collided with my back.
“Gotcha.”
Before I could react, I was lifted off my feet, spun left, my back slamming against the wide trunk of an ancient tree. Tanner was in my face instantly, my view blocked from anything besides a set of dark eyes that were competing with the near vacant black depths of a forest at midnight.
Staring into his gaze feels like falling down a bottomless well, the darkness consuming me while my heart fluttered with panicked, hopeless spurts.
“I’m sorry.” The words tumbled from my throat before I understood I was speaking them, the instant apology doing nothing to loosen his hold on me.
“You will be.”
Tanner’s hand locked on my hip, his other arm lodged against the tree trunk next to my head. Our faces were a teasing inch apart as the corset continued to constrict my chest, refusing my lungs an extra inch to drag in a full breath.
Heart in my throat, I watched Tanner’s eyes dip down to admire the way my cleavage had practically been shoved to my throat, his lips parting just slightly while terror raced through me.
“Let me go,” I barely squeaked, hating how incredibly weak and pathetic my soft voice sounded.
Slowly, his gaze wandered back to my face, a sardonic grin stretching a set of lips that had explored mine several hours before. I remembered how hard they were, how punishing and demanding.
“Or what?”
“Or...”
I couldn’t quiet my thoughts enough to answer his question. The words were there, teasing me with a response my throat didn’t have the ability to release.
A bead of sweat trickled down between my breasts and I was hyperaware of the path it took, the trail of slick moisture left in its path.
Tanner leaned down, and when I thought he would kiss me again, he dragged his mouth across my cheek to press his lips to my ear.
“Why are you here?”
His chest was a brick wall against my body, his breath pouring along my neck, hot and tempting.
Trembling, I fought to convince myself I didn’t like the way it felt to be pressed against him. I wasn’t that girl, wasn’t the type to enjoy the mixture of desire and fear. My mind fought to convince my body of that, yet my body disagreed.
Fucking traitor.
Plastering my hands against his chest, I attempted to push him away, but instead I drew in an unsteady, shallow breath to feel warm steel beneath my fingers, wet from sweat, and radiating the type of heat that could keep a girl warm on the coldest of days.
I shouldn’t have touched him, yet there I was with my fingertip tracing along the ridge of his hard pec.
Yanking my hands away, I argued, “I was invited. Gabriel-“
“I keep finding you in my space. It’s almost like you want to play.”
“Nope,” I whispered, willing my voice louder to keep speaking. “I don’t want to play anything, I was just-“
His laughter cut me off.
“It’s fine. I like games. I happen to be very good at them.”
In the distance, a voice called my name. Deep and concerned. Clayton must have come into the woods after us, worried that Tanner would take this particular game a little too far.
Stilling at the sound, Tanner waited for a split second before his face was in mine again, his lips brushing my cheek before his eyes pinned me in place as much as his body.
“Just remember not to start games you can’t finish. I’m the type of guy who will keep playing them until you beg me to stop.”
With that he pushed away, stalking off in one direction while Clayton appeared from another.
“Luca?”
Dry leaves crunched under his feet as he ran my direction, his hands gripping my shoulders while I slowly peeled my body away from the tree.
“Are you okay?”
Willing my heart rate to drop back to normal, I nodded my head, my gaze tracking the direction Tanner had taken. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just out of breath.”
He grinned, the expression wobbly and unsure.
“Why did you take off like that? It looked like you were scared out of your mind. I was worried.”
Allowing Clayton to wrap his arm through mine to lead me out of the woods, I didn’t want to admit I’d run because Tanner had told me to.
Apparently, I didn’t need to say a word for him to know.
“Hey,” he nudged my shoulder with his own, “Tanner was just messing with you. All of this is just one stupid game they like to play for entertainment.”
Entertainment. Sure. Good choice of words for him to use. Except the problem was a game should be enjoyable for all the players, and this one wasn’t fun.
It wasn’t fair. I didn’t ask to play it. And what I didn’t know as Clayton and I emerged from the woods to walk out into a party that was still going strong despite the late hour was that Tanner hadn’t been lying to tell me this particular game would last until he was done playing it.
Tanner would keep playing it until I fled from Yale...he would keep playing until long after law school was done.
Unfortunately for me, he’d end up being a worthy opponent, the type of man who would do whatever it took to ensure he won.
And the last thing I would learn was that Tanner was a liar.
He wouldn’t stop playing the game, even after I begged.
Luca
Two weeks had passed since the gauntlet party. Although Brad wasn’t dead, he wasn’t exactly unharmed either. I never knew the guy before the party happened, so I’m not sure if he was always scared of every sound, jumpy at every word or terrified of his own shadow prior to the night he ran, but now when I saw him, he appeared as if he needed a restful, long term vacation in a comfortable mental health facility.
It’s weird how I never noticed him before the party. Probably because I kept to myself, or possibly the fact I always had my nose stuck in a book somewhere. However, since that night, whenever I saw him on campus, his head was bowed and his shoulders were painfully tense as he hurried from one class to another.
To say it pissed me off was an understatement. As if I didn’t have enough reason to dislike nine men who believed they had the right to torment the willing (or unwilling, if you included myself), seeing what they did to Brad only cemented the fact that they were to be avoided at all costs.