Veils of Rivalry Chapter 50

Cole's POV

Cold air saws through my battered lungs, and twigs break underfoot. I weave through spindly trees, pumping my legs harder, pushing my body to the limit to get away from the masked man. Excitement quickens my breath as I glance behind me. He’s gaining on me, and my body flushes hot. I want him to catch me, but I also want to draw out the chase. This unhinged side of Cole makes me so damn hard. It’s as if someone unchained his dark, starving side and let it lose in the forest.

Branches slap me in the face, but I can barely feel the stinging pain because I’m too high on adrenaline and the rush of the chase. Jumping over a fallen log, I land in a stream of icy water, which quickly soaks through my shoes and socks. I spin around, only to see the masked man step over the log as though he has all the time in the world to hunt me, and I realize, as he rests the baseball bat on his shoulder, that he’s dragging it out on purpose for the same reason as me. He enjoys the chase, too.

Stumbling back, my foot catches on an exposed root, and I fall to the damp ground. My heart threatens to beat out of my chest as I glance around for a stick or a rock to use as a weapon, but there’s nothing within reach. He tilts his head sideways to study me, and pinecones sink into the mossy ground as he stalks me.

Crawling backward like a crab, I spin around and launch myself to my feet. There’s no time to think and no time to strategize. I run like my life depends on it, and the faster I run, the harder my dick gets. Raising my arms to protect my face, I barrel through the branches of two fir trees. The forest is denser here, and the moss is wetter. I’ve lost track of time since my stepbrother caught my scent like a predator in the night, but I’d lie if I said I didn’t enjoy playing the role of the helpless prey.

I make the swift decision to grab a broken branch off the forest floor. It’s heavy in my hands and takes effort to hold upright, but it’ll do just fine. When Cole emerges, slapping the fir branches out of the way with his bat, I swing at him and knock him off his feet, but the victory is short-lived.

“Fuck,” he growls underneath his mask and rises to stand, unfolding to his full height like something out of a horror flick. I swear I almost come in my pants when he snarls at me. “You’ll regret that.”

Dropping the heavy branch, I bolt.

My T-shirt is soaked with sweat, and my thigh muscles burn. I can’t remember the last time I put this much effort into running. I play football, sure, but this is different. Thank fuck, I’m in good shape, or I would have collapsed by now. Behind me, Cole’s boots pound the forest floor, crushing red-capped mushrooms beneath his rubber soles. Pine needles stick to my jeans from my fall earlier, and I’m sure my hands are covered in grime, but the eerie setting is perfect.

Darkness soon settles over the forest, and an owl’s hoot penetrates the sound of my heavy pants.

I emerge into a clearing and pause at the sight of a derelict old building. Shivers race down my spine as I take in the broken windows and the vines crawling across the weathered brick. The door is long gone, and now the entryway gapes like a dark void.

“Fuck,” I breathe, then glance behind me. There’s no sign of Cole. Only silence surrounds me now. Even the owl has stopped hooting.

Turning around to scan the tree line, I inch closer to the house, deciding that the creepy house is less of a threat than my chaser with his bat. But that’s a lie. My dick tells me as much when it jumps at the thought of seeing him enter the clearing.

Something breaks through the branches to my left, making my heart stutter, and I look down in time to see a large rock roll close to my shoes.

Fuck…

Inhaling a steadying breath, I will the organ in my chest to get a grip. He’s trying to psyche me out, and it’s working.

I lift my gaze and stiffen. Shadowed by the fir trees, his mask peers at me from behind the spindly branches. He shifts, and something else catches my eye. There’s no sign of the bat, his previous weapon of choice.

“Fuck me,” I choke, staring at the carved hunting knife in his hand. My throat jumps as he tilts his head, and I swear he smiles underneath the mask. A trickle of fear licks my spine and mixes with the growing thrill. I don’t know how to feel, and it makes me dizzy.

Before I can explore the heady concoction of emotions, instinct takes over. I whirl around and dart for the house. There’s no time to think and no time to process what the hell is happening, or why he’s armed with a knife, or what he plans to do with it.

I enter through the doorway, kicking up dried leaves as I run down the dark hall. How this building still stands is a mystery. It reeks of rot and decay. Covering my nose with my hand, I come to a stop at the bottom of the staircase. I could escape upstairs, but the steps are wooden, and there’s no telling if they’ll collapse beneath my weight, though judging by the foul smell, it’s not worth the risk.

“Blaaaiiiise.” His voice booms behind me, and I curse under my breath and escape into the nearest room.

An overturned couch in the middle of the small space and a mannequin by the window are the only items here. There’s nowhere to hide.

“Shit,” I whisper, my head whipping from left and right in search of something to use to fight him off, but there’s nothing. When his heavy footsteps fall silent in the doorway, I know my time is up. Short of launching myself at the broken window at my back, there’s nowhere to go.

My breath catches when he crosses the threshold. This is it. I watch, unmoving, as he makes a show of rounding the couch to get to me. Maybe I should take my chances with the shards of glass lining the window frame, after all.

At the memory of escaping through the window at Jackson’s party, my wounded palms throb.

“I bet your dick is leaking for me,” Cole taunts, the rotten floorboards creaking beneath his weight.

His raspy voice is my undoing. I almost groan out loud at the ominous undertones.

“I bet you’re throbbing.”

My eyes fall to the gleaming knife, and my stomach tightens in response. I shouldn’t want him to use it on me, but I can’t deny the thrill.

He takes another step, and the complaining wood causes a spike of anxiety to rush through me. I throw myself over the couch and tumble to the floor, rolling through debris and dried leaves. I’m up on my feet in the next second, propelled forward by adrenaline. As I run for the doorway, something hits my back. I fall again. My chin smacks off the hard floor, and it takes a few seconds for the pain to register, but then it blooms across my shoulder blades.

What the hell?

What was nothing more than a trickle of fear before is now a burst dam that destroys everything in its path. I can’t get away. I’m wounded and unable to run. As his footsteps sound behind me, I try to crawl forward, my nails catching in the ridges. I cough, and blood splutters from my mouth.

He yanks the knife from my back and wipes the bloodied blade on his jeans while I continue to army crawl toward the door. It’s useless, I know it, but my brain still urges me to fight.

“Where are you going?” he asks, his voice morphing and twisting. “Are you in a hurry somewhere, little brother?”

A choked sob escapes me as he grabs my hair and hauls me up. Grappling with his wrists, I scratch and claw. Nothing works to dislodge him. I even try to kick out at him, but I’m weak, and blood is quickly soaking my T-shirt.

“On your fucking knees where you belong,” he snarls, pressing the knife to the underside of my chin when I continue to fight. “Maybe you should have checked if it was really Cole before you let a masked man chase you down like an injured rabbit.” He tears off his mask and tosses it to the side before flicking his blond hair out of his eyes. “But you don’t really care who hunts you, do you? As long as you get off on this little…kink of yours.”

Swaying on my knees, I glare at Jackson.

I should have known he wouldn’t let last night go. His ego was wounded at the party, and now it’s no longer about Cole—it’s personal.

“You want cock, is that it?” He laughs, cupping his junk.

I open my mouth to snarl at him, when a familiar voice says, “You should force it down his throat while I record it on my phone.”

Allie leans against the doorframe, with Jackson’s discarded baseball bat resting against her shoulder and a mask dangling from her fingers. She flashes me a cold smile. “It would make a perfect parting gift for Cole.” Pushing off the doorframe, her heels click on the floorboards. “Did you really think you could get away? You stole what’s mine, Blaise.”