Page 44 of Sweet Surrender
Was he really about to do this?
This wasn’t a dream. His dreams with Knight had felt so vivid as they’d been happening, but standing here right now, they paled woefully in comparison to reality.
That wasrealdarkness around him; that was the sound of the crickets and frogs and other night creatures, loud and startling. He could barely see past a few feet, nothing but trees around him. Wherever Teresa had hosted her queer party, plus the little dirt road that had led to it—they were both far from here.
Saint’s fear rose as he thought, the house Teresa had hosted at couldn’t be the only one. What if there were other buildings here? There could bepeople; what if someone caught him and Knight running through the trees? What if, by some miracle, they cottoned on to just what kind of “game” Saint was playing?
His heart seized, his stomach dropping as he imagined the disgusted, judgemental looks that might pass their faces, that ugly, pesky sense of shame trying to rise. Voices—like his pastor’s, his mother’s, his father’s—rose to scream at him that he was a sinner, that he would never be enough, that he was disgusting and dirty and bad, and wrong, wrong,wrong—
“Do you want me to count, little bunny?”
Saint nearly jumped out of his skin. He glanced wildly around, but Knight was nowhere in sight. It made fresh fear pour into his limbs, but not the fear from before. This fear was sharp. Sweet. It made his blood run as cold as it did molten.
“Shall we pretend we’re playing a game of hide and seek?” Knight’s tone was almost mocking.
Saint’s dick twitched. “Shut up,” he said.
Knight chuckled. Whatever magic he was using made the sound echo through the trees.
Saint took a deep breath. He glanced down at his feet, his heart skipping when he realised he wasn’t wearing shoes, but it felt like he was. Knight must’ve done something to protect them.
Saint’s heart swelled. He was fine. He was safe. Knight would never let anything hurt him. Not unless he wanted it.Thatthought practically set his blood alight.
“One.”
Saint’s heart jolted.
“Two.”
“I said shutup,” Saint snarled as he began to move, stalking quickly through the trees. In his dreams, his fear had been slightly abstract because the terrain of the dreamscape always shifted to match his desires, aiding him in his race away from his hulking demon.
Out here, he was completely blind, led only by true fear and instinct, the ground and forest around him looming and unforgiving.
From a stalk, he broke into a jog. He heard something snap behind him and sucked in a frantic breath, breaking into a run.
Knight’s chuckle echoed around him again, making that delectable fear curl warmly around his belly and spine like a friend. His feet pounded on the forest floor, but unlike his dreams, his movements were louder, more obvious. If Knight had been an actual predator, Saint’s noises as he ran would’ve been like the call of a siren.
A hand grabbed his, nearly sending him flying off his feet at the abrupt halt in momentum.
Saint screamed, his fear ratcheting deliciously higher at the thought that someone other than Knight could’ve heard the sound.
He kicked in the direction the hand had grabbed him, but both the hold and Knight were gone, nothing but his husky laughter echoing around him.
“Run, rabbit, run, rabbit—”
Saint spun in a different direction, trying not to stumble over roots and rocks. He’d barely run a minute when Knight caught him again.
He screamed as familiar arms wrapped around his waist from behind, lifting him into the air, his legs kicking.
Knight shoved him unceremoniously to his knees. Whatever protection he’d used for Saint’s feet, he must’ve used for Saint’s entire body because Saint could barely feel the scrape of rocks and dirt through the thin material of his pyjamas.
Before he could gain his bearings, Knight had shoved him face-first into the dirt, that same magical protection keeping him from truly getting bruised. But the roughness of it—
Knight yanked his arms behind his back in a way that made him feel the pull in his shoulders but wouldn’t truly hurt him. He gripped both of Saint’s wrists in his left hand, his right wrapping around Saint’s throat.
Saint was so hard he was leaking.
He tried to struggle out of Knight’s grip, his chest heaving with fear and arousal and his frantic race through the trees. When he couldn’t so much asbudge, his dick gave a desperate, aching pulse, his balls already threatening to pull up.
