Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

ASHER

S he still thinks I’m Alex.

The thought lingers in my mind like the fading echo of her laugh, a secret so delicious it’s almost better than the game itself. Almost . My cock is still hard, pulsing with the memory of her soft lips, the way she gagged and fought to breathe, and yet didn’t pull away.

She didn’t stop. God , she didn’t stop.

My body hums with cocky satisfaction. Twice now, I’ve caught her, and both times she’s crumbled so beautifully under me.

But the third time… Oh, the third time is when I’ll truly make her mine.

I move silently through the snow, my steps muffled by its fresh, powdery layer. Sloan’s ahead, darting between glowing decorations and weaving through the trees. Her silhouette flashes in and out of view, framed by the goddamn kaleidoscope of holiday lights. She’s breathtaking, her wild and untamed energy feeding the predator in me, the part that’s always craved something more raw and real than the polished life my family always demanded of me.

She’s running fast, her hair a messy tangle around her flushed face. She knows exactly what she’s doing—how she’s taunting me. My sweet doe knows just how to be the perfect fucking prey. The way she glances back every so often, the grin on her swollen lips when she spots me—she wants this as much as I do, even if she doesn’t fully understand what she’s inviting in.

“Run, sweet doe,” I murmur, my voice dark and slow, dripping with anticipation. “The longer you flee, the sweeter the catch will be. And once I have you, you won’t escape again.” My tone is low, laced with a promise, a thrill that hums through the words, a mix of lust and dominance. It’s a predator’s patience, savoring every second of the hunt, knowing the moment I close in, she’ll be mine.

You’re so fucking perfect, Sloan. And you think I’m him.

It’s almost cruel, really, how easy it’s been to step into Alex’s shoes tonight. All it took was the ski mask and a little mimicry of his tone to get her running. He would have never understood her the way I do. His entire life he’s been too busy playing the golden boy, the perfect obedient son.

Ahead, the music swells, leading me to the heart of the town’s holiday festival. A nativity scene is set up in the town square, surrounded by a crowd that sways in time with the carolers’ voices. The scene is almost idyllic—if not for the sharp edge of my desire slicing through the air.

I spot Sloan at the edge of the gathering, her movements frantic yet calculated. She’s looking for an escape route, but she doesn’t want to make it too easy. She’s not just running away; she’s daring me to catch her.

Challenge fucking accepted.

I duck into the crowd, moving through clusters of people with ease. My height gives me an advantage, allowing me to see her as she pushes past a group of children clustered around a hot chocolate stand. Her head swivels, her eyes scanning the dense crowd of people in search of me, and for a moment, I let her think she’s lost me.

Her relief is short-lived.

In one swift motion, I step into her line of sight, just long enough for her to see me, then disappear again into the crowd. Her gasp is audible even over the choir’s rendition of O Holy Night. The chase is on again, and my blood surges at the thrill of it. I’m not just hunting her.

I’m fucking with her. Toying with her. And my sweet doe, she fucking loves it.

She moves faster, her boots slipping slightly on the icy cobblestones as she weaves through the crowd. I follow at a measured pace, keeping to the shadows and savoring the way her body reacts to my presence—the quick glances over her shoulder, the way she clutches the hem of her dress, the flush spreading down her neck.

The sight of her running has my cock twitching with anticipation, aching to catch her one last time and bury myself so deep inside her that even heaven will hear her scream my name.

I step out of the crowd, keeping a safe distance but never letting her out of my sight. She reaches the edge of the square and pauses, looking toward the road that leads to the church. Her goal is clear, but the path there isn’t. She’s smart enough to know I’m anticipating her moves, and I can almost see the wheels turning in her mind as she debates her next step.

I grin under the mask and slip into the mob, disappearing for a moment. Her head whips around, searching for me, and the thrill of her rising panic sends a jolt of satisfaction through me.

God, she’s beautiful like this—alive, flushed, and desperate.

She pushes past a cluster of people gathered near a life-size camel prop, her shoulders tight and determined. Her breath mists in the air, and I watch as she briefly stops to adjust her dress, brushing snow off the hem. A mistake. She’s wasting time, and I make my move, slipping closer.

But before I can get too near, she spots me—or at least she thinks she does. Her lips curl into a grin, and she darts away, running faster toward the edge of town where the lights thin, and the trees start to thicken.

Good. She’s heading for the tree farm.

The tree farm is perfect. Dark, winding paths, and enough cover for me to stay hidden until I decide to reveal myself again. Her energy is waning; I can see it in the way she staggers slightly in her step as she dodges around another towering display of reindeer. She’s been running hard, playing this game with everything she has, like the perfect little playmate.

And I admire her for it. She’s never intended to make this easy, and I wouldn’t want her to.

The fight is half the fucking fun.

I pick up my pace, moving down a side street that cuts through the edge of the park. It’s quieter here, the music and chatter of the crowd fading into the distance. Snow falls heavier now, blanketing everything in soft white, muffling my steps.

The tree farm is just ahead, its entrance marked by a glowing arch of colored lights. Rows upon rows of evergreens stretch into the darkness, their shapes looming like silent sentinels. It’s the kind of place that swallows sound, where shadows linger and light struggles to reach.

I slip through the arch, anticipation coiling tight in my chest.

She’s not far. I can feel it.

I move between the trees, staying close to the trunks, watching for movement. The snow has started to fall in thicker sheets, making visibility harder. Not that it matters. I know this place like the back of my hand.

A branch cracks somewhere up ahead, and my grin widens. She’s trying to be quiet, but she doesn’t know these paths the way I do. I pick up my pace, slipping through the rows of trees like a shadow.

She’s still running, and I can hear her labored breaths now, the sound cutting through the stillness.

This is it. The third catch.