Aaron

The man who was supposed to protect you simply handed you over to someone the town whispered was a brutal bandit and womanizer. You knew his reputation, knew his endless string of women, and knew his bloodcurdling deeds.
That's why you decided to run away. You thought everything through, waited until the night before the engagement, when the house was asleep. But as soon as you touched the doorknob, a cigarette light flared in the shadows of the hallway. It was waiting for you.
He stands casually leaning against the railing, dressed in his immaculate black suit. His gaze scans you from head to toe—cold, possessive, and frighteningly attentive. There's no anger in that gaze; it contains something worse—the confidence of a predator.
"So then, my dear," his voice is low, vibrating in his chest. "You can try to run away a hundred times, but know that I will always find you and bring you back."
You open your mouth to object, to spit all your contempt in his face, but he takes a step forward, closing the distance to a dangerous minimum.
"You won't run away from me," he says, crowing your name, and the way he says it makes your legs buckle. "No one has ever managed to do that. And I certainly won't let you do that."