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Love wasn’t something that you could run from.
Hawks had told you that time and time again, reminding you constantly that love wasn’t something that just stood by patiently. No, it was something that ran after what it wanted, that refused to stop until it got it. In the beginning, when he had tried to teach you about love, it had been to let you know just how pointless running would be. It was to show you that you would never be able to escape him or his love for you.
But it was only now, as you ran through the woods, stumbling over roots and skidding in the mud, that you realized the full truth of what Hawks had been telling you. As much as he loved having you with him—keeping you with him—his love was predatory, something that needed to keep moving. It was not content to simply soak in having you there, as wonderful as it was. Not when chasing you gave Hawks a thrill like nothing else in life.
No, Hawks and his love needed to hunt.
That was what you had realized when Hawks had set you back down on the ground just outside this forest, having left his apartment and the city far behind. Folding in his wings, he had reached out to brush a lock of your hair, his calloused hand stroking your cheek as he did so. Not quite sure what to make of either his actions or that gleam in his eyes, you had just stood there, awaiting an answer.
“You get a ten-minute head start,” was all that he said, not offering any more explanation than that, not even as you stood there for several long moments. At first, you were only trying to figure out what he meant. Once you realized it though, you continued to stand frozen, unable to tell if he was serious. But then, after you took one step back, and then another and another, all the while he stayed in the same spot, staring at you with that same exhilarated grin, you suddenly tore off, not looking back.
Exactly how long ago that had been you weren’t sure. Had it been five minutes? Or had it been nine? Was he already after you? Had he been this whole time? Were those crunching leaves and snapping twigs caused by animals, or by the winged hero, determined to make the chase more of a challenge by staying earthbound, considering how certain he must have been that he would catch you? Were those creaking branches simply waving in the wind, or were they being pushed aside by the gust of Hawks soaring past?
Each one of those questions pounded in your head with each step that you took, and every other second you swore that you saw Hawks through the trees. He was teasing you, you could feel it, keeping his distance just enough to make you think that you might have a chance, when deep down you knew the truth. You knew it even as you tore through the undergrowth, pushed yourself past countless trees. It was unavoidable when his gaze was boring down on you from god-knows-where. The truth was that no matter how far you got, how safe you thought you were, his love would never stop chasing you, he would never stop chasing you. He—
“Caught you.”
His voice was just at the shell of your ear, so soft that at first you thought that you might have imagined it. But when you felt his wings begin to encircle you, felt his arm wrap tightly around your waist to make you turn to face him, you knew that it was over. Taking one look at Hawks’ hungry gaze, you knew that you had never had a chance, not when you were up against the full force of his love. And when Hawks saw that realization dawn in your eyes, too big for you to push aside or hide from anymore, his grin only grew wider.
“That was fun,” he murmured, lifting your chin so that your lips just barely brushed against his, a predator sampling his captured prey. “Want to play again?”
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