Page 3 of Hunted

Scraping a foot on the ground as if impatiently waiting for his master to encourage him to move, it has appeared out of the darkness. Waiting. Bronze Mask sits on the saddle, his body straight and proud, the black cloak elegantly flung over his wide shoulders, chest and legs. His face is obscured with the Venetian mask I’ve come to recognize since he wears it during every game. Its curves are lightly tilted on the side and make his dark eyes look feline. So, so beautiful, even in his graceful disguise. My heart races in my chest, knees shaking both with anticipation and fear.

“During the Chase, you may be subjected to physical violence-with no lasting injuries-as well as being drugged, tied up or even used for the brother's sexual pleasure. You agreed to this.”

Those are the exact words they use before every game. So far I have only experienced violence with no lasting injuries. But being drugged? Being tied up? I shiver at the thought. Being used for Bronze Mask’s sexual pleasure? A treacherous shiver crawls through my veins and with my eyes still on the refined mask, I remember exactly what he looks like underneath.

He tilts his head and continues to stare at me, as if waiting for me to make a run. As if expecting for me to make a run. It’s what I did the past two times. Driven to madness with fear, all common sense that these guys are fellow students, that we’re all in the same college for fuck’s sake, tossed overboard the moment that horse started to gallop.

Though tonight there is a difference from the other two times and I intend to use it to my advantage, to see shock in those dark, feline eyes. Because I know who he is and I will show him that I have no fear. My knees nearly buckle at the thought and I clear my throat, inwardly encouraging myself to stand tall.

“I know who you are,” I snarl and I tilt my chin as if to make a statement, ignoring the way my voice trembles. “And I’m not afraid of you.”

He doesn’t speak, just keeps on staring.

“I don’t know what personal game of fuckery you are playing with me, inviting me back and all that shit, but this is the last time I am participating,” I continue. This time my voice only shakes a little, making me feel smug. I can do this. “I?—”

“Then why are you?” He interrupts with that now familiar huskiness and drawl. It catches me off guard. Snapping my mouth shut, I process his question, confusion growing by the second. My bravado slinks away.

“Then why am I what?” I finally ask.

My question pleases him. I can see it from the way he drags his lips into a small smile. I inwardly swear at myself for having taken the bait. Stretching a gloved hand, he reaches it out to caress the horse's flank. The movement brings a strange flutter in my stomach. “You could have refused, you know,” he says, his attention on his dark mare as he continues to pet the animal. “You could have declined the invitation.” His gaze flicks up, trapping mine with those dark eyes.

He lifts his hand to adjust his hood, revealing a strand of blond hair and a glitter in his ear. If I had any doubt before, that now melts away like snow in the sun. Yes. He’s definitely the guy from the library. Golden Masks’s friend. Tall. Blond hair that is full and messy on the top, with the sides trimmed. Jewellry is against college rules, but I couldn’t help but notice the helix piercing in the shape of a tiny bronze cuff that he wears. So much for not staring. He’s handsome, sith eyes that form a surprising contrast to his light hair. They are dark, large and adorned by thick eye lashes. And those full lips…

They now quirk up as he catches my wandering stare. I flush, then look away. “I should have refused,” I admit.

“Then why didn’t you?” The horse bristles and moves around, restless. It wants to run, of that I’m sure. Perhaps it wants me to run too. Bronze Mask clicks his tongue and the horse takes a step forward, making me flinch and take three steps back. “Take it easy,” he tutts, and I wonder who he means, the horse or me, and nudges his chin toward the trees behind me. “We still have plenty of time.”

Someone cries out around us, the sound heart-wrenching ferocious. My body replies with a shiver.

“Oops,” Bronze Mask smirks. “Seems like my brother has found his prey.” He cocks his head. “Still not afraid?”

“Espèce de merde,” I hiss. The cry has turned into a sob, and it makes my stomach churn. “You think you can just take and take, that you can just do what the fuck you what.”

“I know why you came here tonight,” he says, sounding self-righteous.

Flipping him the bird, I start moving toward the strangled sound, unable to stand by and do nothing when someone else is clearly in this much distress. Regardless of the rules of this stupid game.

“You came to see me tonight, mon loup,” he calls out after me. His words make me freeze, despite my good intentions. Anger and confusion battle for dominance inside the pit of my stomach, both emotions leaving a bitter aftertaste as they climb up and toward my throat, where I try to swallow it away. When I don’t reply, Bronze Mask lets out a satisfied, raspy chuckle. “You’re right. You and I have met before. I wanted you to know who was coming for you, little wolf. And I saw the way you looked at me in the library. Starved, like you haven’t had a good meal for a long time.”

Clip-clop. The horse approaches me, and I tell myself to fucking move already. We’re barely three sentences in and he’s already enraging me. And him, that psycho out there with his knife, the other two who are hunting in the woods. And us, four participants, for coming out here in the first place. For allowing this to happen. The entire scenario makes me furious.

Clip-clop.

“Don’t come any closer,” I snarl, gaze still fixed away from him and onto the trail, where no more shouts are uttered. It’s like they are gone, the earlier trepidation replaced by something far more ominous. Desolation, because I’m here in an empty forest. Fear, drenched in the oxygen around me. But I refuse to inhale it, refuse to be eliminated.

The horse stops walking and I fist my hands, unsure and very determined at the same time for what’s about to come. This hasn’t happened before. This conversation, these questions. This confrontation. Well, if he wants to fight me, I sure as fuck won’t back off. I have been playing volleyball for as long as I can remember, and I’m fit enough to at least be a worthy opponent.

“No? What will happen if I do? Are you going to hurt me?” He taunts, and when I look over my shoulder, I catch him swinging the leather sling loosely around his wrist, surely to provoke me into doing something stupid such as proving him right.

And perhaps I would have. Perhaps I would have shoved my bashfulness aside and would have lunged forward and right at him, pulled him off his horse and…what? Hit him? Kiss him?

But I don’t do anything like that. Because another loud cry makes the forest tremble, and before my brain registers what the hell is going on, I’ve already spun around and made my way toward the sound of fear.

2

OLIVIER

“Where are you?” I call out, panting and shaking as I run deeper and deeper into the forest. I’ve never been this deep into the woods, because the fact that Monterrey Castle is surrounded by neverending acres and acres of deserted green. Despite the light material, the silk mask is already causing my skin to warm up and start itching, and there’s nothing I’d rather do than rip it off my face.

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