NOVA–AGE EIGHTEEN
“You think you can fool me.” His voice lowered. “I saw your mask when you entered the woods. It was blue.”
“I made a modification.”
“What you made was a fucking mistake. You shouldn’t be out here.”
“I can handle myself. It’s not your problem.”
One second, we were facing each other, the next, he was behind me, holding me securely with his hand wrapped around my throat. His fingers tightened in warning, sending a delicious shiver through me. It was difficult to ignore my body’s reaction to being so close to a gorgeous man who was fulfilling one of my secret fantasies, but the fact that the man behind me was Jay made it easier. Letting my body go limp and compliant against him, I waited for the few seconds it took for his grip to loosen, and then I twisted myself down and around with a sharp motion, breaking his hold. Holding down the button on my torch to activate the mechanism that would cause the knife to slide free, I brought the serrated blade up in a quick swing, pointing it at his chest. We were both breathing hard, and my hand trembled, but I kept the knife steady.
“I said, I can handle myself.”
A dark chuckle fell from his throat. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Don’t presume to know what I would or wouldn’t dare.” Stepping closer, I pushed the blade into the thick fabric of his hoodie. He stood unnaturally still, his chest not even moving with his breaths.
“Nova.”
I shuddered at his low drawl, and my moment of temporary weakness was all he needed to slide out of my reach, a glint of metal appearing in his palm.
“I can play with knives too.”
Fuck. Throwing my body to the side when he lunged at me, I ran again, no longer sure of my direction, branches whipping me as I pushed myself until my lungs were burning and I was gasping for breath.
I ran until I couldn’t run anymore. But he was still there, coming after me until I admitted defeat, tears in my eyes as I tripped on an exposed root, my arms windmilling as I fell backwards with nothing to break my fall.
Then Jay was there, right in front of me, lunging forwards to pull me upright. I was still reeling when he tugged down my hood and peeled off my mask, throwing it to the ground. The moonlight illuminated his hooded, masked figure as he reached out, curling his fingers around my ponytail. He yanked, using it to spin me so he could press himself up against my back.
My chest rose and fell sharply as I panted for breath, my heart pounding from the adrenaline. What was happening?
“Caught you.” His knife slid up my stomach, the tip of the blade stopping just below my breasts. My own torch-slash-knife was lost somewhere in the woods, dropped during our headlong chase when my sleeve caught on a tangle of brambles.
“Wh-what do you want?” I gasped out. “A medal?”
“So fucking mouthy, princess.” He released his grip on my hair, and then his mouth was at my ear, his breath hot on my skin. When had he removed his mask? His lips skimmed over the shell of my ear, and my breath stuttered. “Let’s put that mouth to better use.”
The knife slid higher, and then he twisted it, the flat of the blade across my throat.
“Don’t move,” he warned. I swallowed against the knife, the metal warming as it pressed into my skin.
“What do you want?” I whispered.
“Things I can’t have.” His body shifted, and I suddenly became aware that the knife wasn’t the only thing pressing against me.
He was hard.
Fuck.
My mouth went dry.
“Jay…”
“Stop talking.” He curled his arm around my waist, pulling me back into him. He shifted again, his erection insistent against my back. There was an ache between my thighs, and I despised it.
“B-but you hate me.”
He dipped his head, his lips brushing over the side of my throat. “I really, really do. So fucking much.”
“Then why—” I could feel my cheeks warming. Why are you hard? I couldn’t say that out loud. Not to him.
“Fuck, Nova,” he rasped. I’d never heard him say my name that way before.
“Jay.”
The knife was suddenly gone, and then he was spinning me back to him, and his mouth was on mine.
He kissed me with an intensity that stole my breath, his arms wrapping around my waist to hold me in place. My knees were weak, my entire body was shaking, and all I could do was cling to the man who hated me, allowing him to take and take and take.
An involuntary whimper escaped from my throat as I tentatively kissed him back, my tongue sliding against his, mimicking his movements as his hot mouth moved over mine.
The noise seemed to break the spell. He suddenly released me with a muttered curse, pressing something into my hand before he disappeared into the darkness.
I fell back against the rough bark of the trunk behind me, gripping his wrist torch in my palm. My shaking fingers touched my lips as a tear fell from my lashes.
It was my first kiss, and it was stolen by a boy who hated me.
**********
©️2026 Becca Steele (unedited & subject to change)