Run Wild by Shelly Thacker

made her cheeks burn all over again. Made her feel foolish. She hated the way he kept mocking her, as if she were some weak, witless, helpless female. “I didn’t ask for your opinion, you black-hearted brigand! I can take care of myself. I don’t need
anyone’s
help. Not yours and not anyone’s!”
    “Fine. Because I have no intention of offering you any.” He closed his eyes for a second, still breathing hard. Despite all his strength and stamina, he was obviously in pain. “We aren’t going to get anywhere if you try to go your way and I try to go my way. So we’ll both go my way. As long as you follow orders, we’ll get along just fine.”
    “Then I’m afraid we’re not going to get along at all.”
    He opened his eyes and she saw a spark of something dangerous there. “It’s not up for discussion,
angel
. There’s only room for one of us to be in charge here—and you’re looking at him.”
    Not giving her any chance for further argument, he stood up, pulling her to her feet with the same effortless strength he had used to keep her pinned. She was struck by the way he towered over her. In gaol, he had been forced to stoop down by the low ceiling. Standing at his full height, he loomed above her.
    She barely came up to his chin, her eyes level with the second button on his shirt—which gave her a rather daunting view of his chest and shoulders. He was all hard planes, bronzed skin and rugged muscles.
    Her heart kept pounding a fast, uneven beat.
    “This time, your ladyship,” he said in a commanding tone, “I suggest you keep those pretty little slippers of yours moving.”
    With one last stern look of warning, he turned and led her into the forest once more.
    An hour later, they had ventured deep into the heart of the Chase. After some awkward stumbles and a lot of practice, they had gradually learned to coordinate their strides despite the chain, avoiding any further painful falls.
    But he never stopped. Never rested. They alternately ran and walked, until Sam felt she had reached the limit of her endurance. The knotted muscles of her legs ached and the soles of her feet felt as if they’d been flattened. Her throat burned with thirst.
    This deep in the woods, the trees loomed thicker on every side. Branches caught at her hair. Brambles and underbrush ripped at her skirts. Roots jutted out of nowhere to trip her. The interlacing leaves far overhead blocked the sun almost completely, but the shade no longer felt like a cooling balm, but a cold, clammy shroud.
    She couldn’t help but think that Cannock Chase more than lived up to its sinister reputation, its shadows a darker black, even the sharp scent of evergreens and damp earth somehow menacing, overpowering her senses. As if the very air here were different. Ancient and wild and not meant for man.
    The unsettling impression lingered, though she told herself it was merely fatigue making her imagine it all. Fatigue caused by her ruthless companion.
    The words he had spoken earlier kept running through her head.
It was them or me. Faced with that choice, I generally choose me.
    That was painfully obvious. He didn’t care about anyone but himself. Every time she tripped, every time she asked to rest, he would tug her back to her feet and order her to keep moving. Pushing her relentlessly onward. He was pitiless, cold-hearted...
    A new emotion crowded in on the fear and resentment she felt toward him. A simmering dislike.
    Even as she had that thought, her slipper hit a patch of damp leaves and she slid. He grabbed her with both hands, but they both lost their balance and fell.
    He muttered a curse. She lay in the sticky, wet leaves, gasping for air, her limbs shaking with exhaustion.
    “I... c... can’t,” she panted, shaking her head, tears stinging her eyes. “C-can’t... go... any f-further.”
    This time, instead of arguing or coercing as she had expected, he relented, making no move to get up. She closed her eyes in relief. The noise of