Follow Me Down - Melissa Toppen

Chapter One

Fallon

My feet pound against the earth. Sticks and branches poke into my bare feet as I move. I push past the pain. I don’t have another choice. My sandals are somewhere back there. Where he is.

The sound of my heart drums violently in my ears. Even with the distance, I can still feel his breath on my face. Smell the warm alcohol in my nostrils. Feel the weight of him on top of me. Hear my pleas for him to stop.

I can’t breathe.

His forearm pressed against my throat, restricting my ability to pull in air. Keeping me from crying for help when I’d tried, though I doubt anyone would have heard me. We were too deep in the woods, too far from the party by the lake.

I still don’t know how I got away and I shudder to think what he would have done if I hadn’t, or what he will do if he catches me.

I try to shake off the vision, push everything to the back of my mind and focus on the path ahead, but it’s impossible to do when every step I take feels like he’s closing in on me.

Tears blur my vision, making it hard for me to see through the heavy foliage.

But I have to get as far away from here as fast as I can.

I have nothing with me. My purse and cell phone are at the lake house where I’d planned to stay the week with my friend, Christy. She’s back at the bonfire, completely unaware of the hell I’ve found myself in.

When Austin suggested we take a walk, I had never imagined the terrifying turn it would take. I’d met him this afternoon, and he seemed nice enough. Well dressed, well-spoken, a guy I would never dream capable of such violence. I guess it goes to show you really can’t judge a book by its cover. No matter how put together someone may seem, you can never know the darkness that lives inside.

Ahead is a clearing in the woods. The orange glow of the setting sun highlighting the road on the other side of the trees, and I run faster.

I don’t look to see if any cars are coming. I don’t have time to stop. If I stop he might catch me. If he catches me, I have no doubt that he will drag me back and finish what he started.

A blur of black metal flashes past me the instant my feet hit the pavement, a rush of wind blowing my blonde curls into my face. My heart nearly jumps out of my chest.

Seconds later, tires squeal and I turn to see a black motorcycle skid to a stop a few yards in front of me.

My feet are already moving me toward the bike before I have time to think.

“Help me,” I croak, my throat coarse and dry.

The driver climbs off the bike, the roar of the engine no doubt drowning out my voice.

“Help me,” I try again, my steps faltering when the driver turns toward me and removes his helmet.

My feet stop so abruptly that I nearly lose my balance. Warning bells ping in my head like a pinball, and I have the sudden urge to turn and run the other way, but for some reason I don’t move.

Why am I not moving?

This man isn’t a wolf pretending to be a sheep. He’s a wolf. With one look I know that my already bad situation may have gotten a hell of a lot worse.

He takes a step toward me, his black boots heavy against the pavement. The look of anger on his face is undeniable. But I’m too distracted by the rest of him to let that thought take hold.

He’s older than me. Maybe in his late twenties. He’s tall, lean but muscular, and his sandy colored hair looks a mess with chunks falling into his eyes. Week-old scruff lines his jaw, which ticks as his gaze does a full sweep of me. An involuntary shudder runs down my spine.

He’s gorgeous. There’s no denying that. But there’s also something dark about him. Something scary. Something that tells me I may have outrun the fire only to find myself smack dab in the middle of the dragon’s lair.

His arms are covered in various tattoos and there’s a large one across his neck that dips down into the material of his black tee, which only adds to his intimidating presence.

“What the fuck?” The sound of his raspy voice makes me jump. “Are you