Page 25

The chase led them through the castle’s dimly lit halls, past the grand ballroom with its chandeliers that hung like crystal spiders, through the dining hall with the long, shadowy table that could seat an army, and into the bowels of the fortress, where the air was damp and the walls whispered secrets of the castle’s bloody past. Ivy’s heart races with excitement, her mind working overtime to stay one step ahead.

She leads him to the kitchen, where the scent of roasting meats and baking bread usually fills the air, but now it’s just the two of them, playing out their dance of seduction and survival.

Vice corners her in the kitchen, the gleaming countertops and heavy oak cabinets looming like silent judges.

A long, sturdy table stands between them, laden with the remnants of a meal that seems to have been abandoned in a hurry.

His eyes glint with a mix of frustration and admiration as he takes in her flushed cheeks and the way her chest rises and falls with each rapid breath.

This is the end of the line, Ivy," he said with a sigh that was almost a growl, "I thought you'd be more of a challenge." He flipped the table with a swift motion, sending plates and silverware crashing to the floor. The sound echoes through the room, shattering the tension like a gunshot.

Surprise flits across his face when she doesn't cower or scream.

He closed the distance between them quickly.

But as soon as he reached her, she dropped down into a split, she then swung her leg around, catching his ankles.

With a grunt, he falls to the ground, the impact jarring.

She was on her feet in an instant, her body moving with the grace of a ballerina.

He tried to grab her ankle but she's already out of reach.

"I thought you'd be more of a challenge.

" Ivy teases. Ivy's laugh echoed in the kitchen, a sound that's both thrilling and infuriating to Vice.

"That's more like it." he chuckled darkly.

He got to his feet, his muscles tensed. The chase isn't over; it's just become more interesting.

He prowled after her, his movements were more deliberate now, his mind fully engaged in the game.

The sitting room blurred into a whirl of shadows and light as they dodge and weave around the sturdy furniture, their heavy breathing the only sounds in the otherwise silent room.

For a moment, he lost sight of her, his eyes scanning the room in vain.

"Ivy?" he called out, his voice a low growl that fills the space. She didn’t answer, and for a brief instant, a flicker of doubt crossed his mind.

Perhaps she's slipped away, her game a clever ruse to escape.

But then he heard it—the faint rustle of fabric, a whisper of sound that could be her.

He moved towards the noise, his steps cautious and measured. The room's high ceilings and arched windows seem to hold their breath, the shadows playing tricks on his eyes. "You can't hide from me," he murmured, his voice a dark promise that seems to wrap around the very air.

"Can't I?" Ivy's voice is a teasing whisper, seemingly coming from every corner of the room. She's playing him, and they both know it. "You're getting closer," she calls out, her tone playful, "but are you really?"

Vice’s eyes scan the room, and there it was—the smell of her perfume, an intoxicating smell.

The scent of her lingered like a siren's call.

He can't help but feel a primal thrill, a desire to feel her soft skin, to taste her and to claim her as his own.

He clenches his fists, the need to have her underneath him becoming almost unbearable.

He's so focused on the scent that he almost misses the sound of her behind him.

Ivy steps out from around the corner, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.

His eyes widen, and he can't help but feel his body respond to the sight of her.

The chase had become more than a game—it's become a dance of desire, a battle of wills, and he wasn’t entirely sure who was winning anymore. She took off again.

Vice's eyes locked on her retreating figure. The animalistic side of him has been unleashed, and he was enjoying the thrill of the hunt. The predator in him is fully engaged.

Ivy sprinted towards the fireplace; her heart pounded in her ears.

She can feel the heat from the flames licking at her face as she reaches the stone mantle.

With a quick glance over her shoulder, she saw Vice closing in, his stride purposeful and relentless.

She knew she couldn’t outrun him for long, so she needed to be smart.

As she reached the fireplace, she pulled a hidden lever she had found weeks earlier.

A secret passage swung open, and she slipped through it just as his hand grazed her cheek.

Her heart raced, as she found herself in a dimly lit secret passageway lined with dusty tapestries and portraits of long-dead nobility.

The air is musty, filled with the scent of forgotten memories and hidden secrets.

She takes a moment to catch her breath, listening for any sound of pursuit.

The silence was deafening, and she felt the anticipation building like a crescendo in a symphony of suspense.

Suddenly, a portrait swung open behind her, spinning around she saw Vice. His eyes gleamed with a predatory light, his smile wicked. "You think you can outsmart me, little mouse?" he taunted.

Ivy's mind races as she tried to find a way to outsmart him. She noticed a set of stairs. It was risky, but she didn’t have a choice.

With a deep breath, she sprinted up the stairs, her bare feet slapped against the cold stone.

The higher she went, the narrower the stairs become, which forced her to slow down.

But each step was a silent declaration of her intent to win this twisted game she's orchestrated.

She made it up the stairs and realized she was trapped. This was the tower, with only one way in and out, besides a single window. She suddenly becomes all too aware of the cold, unforgiving stone beneath her feet, the chilly air raised goosebumps on her exposed skin.

She hurried to the window, throwing it open, she saw nothing but the hard ground beneath it.

She turned back to see Vice standing at the top of the stairs.

Her chest heaved with exertion. The moonlight, the only source of light in the tower, painted their shadows like two lovers caught in a dramatic embrace on the cold stone floor.

Vice took a step forward into the small room, his eyes dark with a hunger that went beyond just physical.

"You've led me on quite the chase," he said, his voice low and seductive. "But it’s over Ivy, there’s nowhere left to run," His words hung in the air.

Ivy's heart skipped a beat, but she didn’t cower.

Instead, she met his gaze with one of her own, a challenge sparkled in her eyes.

"You think you've won?" she asked, her voice steady despite the fear that threatens to overwhelm her.

Vice took a step closer; his black boots echoed in the quiet of the tower room. "Ivy," he said, his voice a gentle caress, "Your time is up."

Ivy's eyes flashed with defiance. "If you want me?" she teased, her voice was a siren's call that resonated through the stones of the castle. "Then come and get me."

Vice's smile widens, and he took another step forward, the challenge in her voice only fueled his hunger.

As he slowly stepped closer to her, his head tilted as he studied her, his gaze lingered on the curve of her neck, the rapid pulse point beat like a drum.

"Oh, I will," he murmured, his voice a dark promise that sends a jolt of excitement through her entire body.

Ivy stood at the open window; her eyes locked intensely on Vice.

It couldn't end like this she thought to herself.

She refused to let him win just yet. She slowly looked back and forth between him and the ground far below.

The wind whipped through her long hair, sending it streaming behind her like a cascade of raven-black silk, as she leaned out over the void, her pale complexion was illuminated by the moonlight.

Her eyes locked on to his, as she stepped off the window's sill, her body plummeted towards the ground.

Vice's eyes went wide as he stared at the window; his heart pounded in his chest. He raced to the window; he looked down and realized he'd been outmaneuvered once again.

Ivy dangled from the windowsill below. With every bit of strength she had she pulled herself up and into the window.

She disappeared for a moment, then stuck her head back out the window, she looked up at him, her expression one of smug triumph.

Her eyes gleamed with mischief that belied the gravity of the huge risk she'd just taken.

She winked and blew him a kiss, a gesture that both mocked and tantalized him, that sent a bolt of pure, primal desire through his body.

As Vice leaned out the window, his heart raced in a way it hadn't in a very long time.

He felt alive, the thrill of the chase pumped adrenaline through his veins.

He watched her disappear, his eyes narrowed.

This was no ordinary game, and he knew it.

Ivy had become more than just his prisoner—she had become his obsession, the one person who has been able to make him feel anything other than anger and bitterness.

With a wicked grin, he jumped, his hands meeting the windowsill below him, he pulled himself up with ease.

She was fast, he'd give her that, but he was faster.

She managed to make her way outside into the courtyard.

The night air was cool on his skin, carrying with it the scent of rain and the promise of a storm.