Page 12 of The Spare (The King Dynasty #2)

Chapter seven

En Guard

M y feet pound the pavement littered with damp leaves as I race across the trail as fast as I can.

My breath comes out in harsh pants, white billowy smoke accompanied by desperate whimpers escapes past my lips as I hurdle myself through the thick foliage of this unfamiliar place.

My thighs are tight, and my arms pump as I strain to push myself harder, faster.

My skin is flushed uncomfortably hot. Sweat dots my brow and my upper lip, trailing down my spine and in between my breasts. Everything burns: my muscles, my lungs, my feet.

I've been running too long this time.

My arms fly up to protect my front as branches and leaves smack my face and arms, tangling in my long hair which has long since lost it's ponytail.

I furrow my brow, forcing myself to go even faster and in response the blood rushes in my ears, pounds through my veins.

The air saws in and out of my lungs desperately, bringing with it the smell and taste of damp and rain.

"Come on, Mel, faster!" I grunt through gritted teeth as my steps begin to slow. Panicking, I pivot off the pavement and onto the dirt trial headed to where the thicket of trees are denser.

Lightning cracks the evening sky as the heavens opens up and begins to pour down on me, plastering my clothes to my skin and my hair to my head.

The trees sway as the wind picks up; leaves swirl around my feet, clinging to my ankles and calves.

But still I run, because I can't afford to stop.

Not right now. Because I'm not running for pleasure.

No. Now, I'm being hunted.

"It's only a matter of time, Melly."

His deep voice sends a thrill through me.

But this time, it's more of an excited thrill than usual.

I dig deeper, grinding my feet into the dirt.

A second pair of footsteps sound out along with mine, making my heart pound.

He's closer. Closer than he's been the last four years he's been chasing me.

I've never seen his face, because I've never let him catch me.

This evening is different. This evening I'm weak.

"Give up, Melly."

"No!" I gasp.

The strength it takes to utter that one simple word weakens me even further, and to my dismay, I lose a fraction of my speed. Which, if anyone knows anything about running, is all it takes. Especially when the other person is still going full speed ahead .

I throw a look back over my shoulder, my eyes going wide as I see him almost right behind me, and whimper in fear.

Dressed in all black, his zip-up jacket encases a tight muscular torso as he pounds across the dirt floor inching closer and closer.

The hood of his jacket is pulled low over his head, his face hidden by shadows.

Black gloves, thick arms, muscular chest, powerful thighs.

So powerful that he's able to keep up with me, and that's not an easy feat.

My feet slip on the wet leaves and I slide, stumbling as my feet seek purchase against the slippery ground to no avail.

My arms flail, and as I pitch to the side he snatches me up by my arm and roughly yanks me around to face him.

Our momentum is such that he slams into me, and I pitch backwards now.

He suddenly twists us in midair, buffering me against his hard body.

His arms tighten around me, tucking me into him as he curls his body around me and absorbs the impact of us hitting the ground. We roll several times across the wet leaves and dirt before coming to a dead stop with him on top of me.

I tremble. His hard body is pressed against every inch of mine, and his hips nestle intimately into the space between my splayed legs where his erection settles against my pussy.

The rain pounds down on us, and I blink against the droplets that fall into my eyes.

His face is still cloaked in shadow, and all I can see is the hint of his jaw.

Could it be him?

My breath saws in and out my lungs, making my breasts heave against his broad chest.

He slaps his palms to the ground on either side of my head and tilts his.

Without seeing his face, I can tell he’s grinning at me.

I raise a shaking hand to the hood of his jacket and grip it, surprised he lets me.

My heart races as I pull it back slowly, and my eyes widen with shock as I unveil my chaser .

"Mason?" I whisper, feeling my heart pound into overdrive.

His brow lifts, and he narrows his eyes. "Didn't I tell you I was going to catch you?"

"Yes."

"And what did I tell you I was going to do when I catch you?" His hips nudge me firmly, causing me to become slick between my legs.

My brain whirls, remembering the things he'd taunt me with as we'd run while he chased me down over these last four years. "You said when you caught me, you'd… you'd…" I trail off at the look of absolute hunger in his eyes.

My God, he looks ravenous.

His head dips down, and he brushes his lips ever so softly against me. "I said I was going to fuck you," he whispers against my lips, before sealing his mouth to mine in a deep kiss.

Gasping, I jerk out of my dream and sit straight up in bed, drenched with sweat and panting hard.

The flesh between my legs throbs; my inner thighs are slick with the evidence of my excitement.

I blow out a breathe and hold a shaky hand to my head, squeezing my eyes shut.

This is the first time I've actually seen his face in my dreams in four years.

Leaning over, I flick on the bedside lamp, casting a glance at Karissa who's fast asleep under the covers and reach for my diary in my nightstand to get out my feelings.

An hour later, I feel a little bit better, and I pull out my cell, sending out a text.

I drop it to the bed on a frustrated huff, irritated at seeing it immediately bounce back as undelivered .

"What's the matter with you?" Karissa asks from her bed, still laying down.

I shake my head. "Howard's messages won't go through," I say irritably, referencing my latest love interest. If you could even call him that. It's been two weeks without a single word from him.

Just like the other four men who've mysteriously come and gone out of my life.

She scoffs, flopping back on the bed and rolling to her side to face me. "So? Stop trying and move on to the next one."

My mouth parts at how dismissive and rude she is. "Karissa," I admonish, narrowing my eyes at her. "All my boyfriends keep disappearing. Can you show a little sympathy, please?"

She snorts, covering her hand with her mouth. "I'm sorry, Melody, but can you really call them your boyfriend if you've never even slept with any of them? Come on, now. That's cute."

I roll my eyes. "Rude."

"No, I'm a realist. Now, forget about all them fucks and go find yourself a real man and actually crawl under him, please. I'm tired of you being a virgin."

My jaw drops. "Karissa!"

"What?" she whines, sitting back up. "Melody, you're missing out on so much! It's killing me. We're in our prime!"

I heave a sigh and shake my head, lamenting at my free-spirited, albeit very self-centered best friend. "I don't have time for this today. I have to go."

"Fence with daddy?" she says sarcastically. "Damn, I feel sorry for you."

Her words pierce me right in the heart, and I look at her sharply.

"Don't," I snap as hurt fills my being. She knows how bad it hurts I don't have a dad, and how sometimes going to these fencing spars with Richard helps keep the pain away.

Why she'd so carelessly say something so hurtful is beyond me.

Karissa's eyes go wide and a wince crosses her face. "I-I'm sorry, Mel. You know I didn't mean it like that."

Sure she didn't.

Scooting off the bed, I head to my closet and grab my usual uniform of leggings and a plain t-shirt. "Gotta go, Karissa."

"Oh, Mel," she says in a sad voice, sitting up and giving me a pleading look. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to-"

Picking up my phone, I hoist my bag over my arm and slide my feet into a pair of sandals. "It's fine. Talk to you later."

Every other Saturday I fence with Richard, his way of bonding with me.

He fences, and I was curious enough to pick it up as a hobby.

He has his own thing with each of us girls.

We fence, he travels around the world shopping for interior design furniture with Isobel, and he sits for all the fashion shows that Teresa drags him to.

I feel like an asshole for admitting that though Richard puts forth every effort, he's no replacement for what I've lost. It doesn't stop him from trying, though. He's very involved with us women. His sons, not so much.

It's weird, and I can't for the life of me figure it out even after three straight years of sleuthing. There's a missing piece of the puzzle I just can't find.

Every family gathering I sneak off to the library to delve into the journals that are locked up within The King Dynasty archives.

There's dozens of meticulously documented accounts of relationships, marriages, families…

but, I haven't gotten a clue to Richard's past. His parents’ journals are missing for some reason, and something tells me they hold the answers to the questions I have regarding why Richard is so mistrusting of men, to include his own sons.

"Allez!" the coach shouts, and I spring forward, attempting to tap my foil to Richard's lamé.

Our foils collide as he lets me advance, parrying every strike.

I dip and lunge, trying to find my way in, but he knocks me away at every attempt.

Sweat trickles down my spine beneath my lamé, and my breaths sound loud in my mask.

But I don't relent, using every bit of stamina I have and strength in my legs born from thousands of hours of running and training my muscles.

And I don't want to lose in front of Mason. He came today.