Page 122 of Unbalanced

She looks back and fucking laughs again, but this time without the mask it is sweet and seductive. The look in her eyes is wild with an abandon I crave. Something inside me tears loose.

I want her. Alive. I want my hands on her while she explains every fucking lie she’s ever told me. She cuts around a tree, and I realize I’m still playing her game.

I stop.

Think.

She expects me behind her.

Fine.

I angle left and head straight through the brush, picking the moist ground to cover the sound of my boots. I hear her running parallel to me now, but her pace is slower, probably looking behind her.

Closer.

Closer.

Now.

Shock is written across her face as I explode through the brush at her side, and Emily’s head snaps toward me.

Finally.

I tackle her to the ground, and the momentum sends us rolling. My shoulder strikes a rock hard enough to make my arm go numb.

“Ah,” I wince, and suck in a sharp breath.

She wiggles free like she’s coated herself in oil.

I grab her wrist.

She rolls.

My grip breaks, but I catch her ankle.

She jerks her leg away.

“Son of a bitch.”

We jump to our feet and stand maybe six feet apart. We are breathing like we’ve run ten miles and are covered in dirt and leaves.

For several seconds neither of us moves.

The sight of her sends something strange crawling over my skin. It’s like looking at myself, if someone took everything I keep locked away and put it in another body. She tilts her head and crosses her arms as if daring me to try and grab her again.

“What the fuck is going on, Emily?”

She doesn’t say a word but slowly steps back. I react instantly.

“Don’t.”

Another step.

“Emily…I’m warning you.”

“Or what?” She smirks and turns.

“Fuck.”