Page 47 of The Huntress and Her Hound

I give him a weird thumbs up, and we part ways. I follow my phone’s locator, realizing that I’m heading to the bathrooms. For some reason, that bothers me—but I don’t know why.

Well, not until I’m standing in the hallway, staring at a six-foot-something blond headed guy downing a glass of liquor Cher’s put to his lips. She’s got a wicked, seductive grin on her face—which is the opposite of the timid, tearful woman I had in the dark room.

What the fuck? Was she playing me?

He chuckles as he drunkenly stands over her, running his hand down her side—the same place I just was. Everything goes still inside of me as my mind starts blowing through the ways I could destroy the man in front of me.

But how many fucking guys would I have to do that to? Every time I turn around, she’s with some other dickface. I take a deep breath and unclench my hands, fury morphing to the acceptance that this fucking battle is over.

You win, Cher.

And as if she hears my thoughts, her head turns in my direction, her eyes widening. She shoves the man off of her, but it’s too fucking late. I’m already heading the other way, busting out into the stairwell and thundering downward.

“Jude, wait,” Cher calls behind me. “Please.”

I consider stopping, but I’m too fucking pissed. “Go back and whore around,” I snap back at her without ever stopping my descent.

“Unfair argument considering you said you were trying something new.” The ice in her voice freezes me, one of my converse hovering just above the cement step.

My jaw clenches as I turn around, her steely expression eerily similar to that of her brother’s. “You’re jumping to conclusions,” I growl.

“So are you.” The way she spits it back is unnerving, her tone almost unrecognizable—but it still goes straight to my fucking cock. I take the stairs two at a time, and as I hit the landing where she stands, she shifts backward.

“I’ve been watching you closer than you think.” I cover what little space remains, my hand landing around the base of her neck. Her eyes widen, but she doesn’t back down. “I don’t like to share, but if you want to fuck around with men who can’t even make you come, then by all means, en-fucking-joy.” I drop my hand then, and as I do, commotion begins just a flight down from us.

I peer down just as a group of EMTs come thundering up the stairwell, their footsteps piercing the quiet that settles on us. We both move out of the way as they pass, saying something about an unconscious male. I glance over to Cher, whose expression remains unreadable. Even in her rabbit mask, she’s the most intriguing woman...

But no matter how intriguing, I’m not going to be fucked around.

And as soon as the medics pass, I once again descend the stairs. I can be pissed about what happened as much as I want, but it’s not a surprise. I watched Cher go home with the guy at the sex club—why wouldn’t she continue to do that?

But why did she say she’d never orgasmed? Is that why she was going home with them? Trying to find pleasure she’d never experienced?

My head is fucked up with questions, so much so, I don’t even realize Cher’s keeping the pace beside me. “You don’t have to come with me.”

“I want to.” Her voice is quiet. “There’s so much about me that you don’t know, Jude.”

“Obviously, I barely know you,” I snort. “Thanks for clarifying that.”

She winces at my words, which then serves to make me feel guilty—but only for a second. “Can we talk? Can I at least explain?”

“Explain what?” I punch through the exit, stepping out into the early morning hours. “There’s no explanation that makes sense for what you were doing in the hallway. I told you I’d find you again. All you had to do was wait for me.”

“It’s not like that.” Her voice strains as she grabs my hand. “I want to explore things with you. We just... We just have to take it slow.”

I roll my eyes and then rip off my mask, tossing it into a trash can as I turn to face her. “Right, so you can fuck other guys? I don’t want to catch anything.”

She shakes her head, squeezing her fingers around my wrist. “I won’t—I won’t fuck anyone else. I promise.”

“Big promise for a woman who—”

“Who, what? Goes out? Flirts? Acts the way so many of you assholes do?” Cher drops my hand and throws it in the air. “Men can go out and whore around all they want—and you know what? They get labeled as playboys and they’re just having fun. If we do it, we’re sluts.”

“I think everyone you just described is a slut,” I scoff. “I’m not sexist with the term. It applies to anyone.” I spin around to leave, but she continues to follow me. Which, I guess is a good thing. I wouldn’t leave her alone on the streets at this time of night anyway.

“I like you, Jude. And I haven’t liked anyone since...Like high school.” Her words have an air of vulnerability to them, but I’m still unsure about what I saw. It’s a huge fuck you, and I refuse to get played.

“Good to know.”

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