Page 79 of Rugger: The Huntress

At nineteen she’d been snatched from life as she knew it and confined to an island designed for our escape in the event it was necessary. Before then, Rome had never dated. She’d never had a boyfriend. And, she’d never experienced love.

She was focused on furthering her career. She’d promised to date once she was where she wanted to be in her profession or when the urge for companionship consumed her.

“If it has happened to me– then we know it can happen for anyone.”

“You act like you’re not a catch,” she chastised, “How dare you?”

“I have no idea where we’re going. He said be ready at eight and I’d find out where to meet him. It’s almost eight.”

“He’s forcing you to let go and allow him to lead. He’s also testing your level of trust. In order for him to lead properly, you must trust him fully. If he’d given you the location, you would’ve spent the day searching for the blueprint, concocting an escape plan, and the whole nine.”

Silently, I agreed.

“You deserve to relax. Let your hair down.”

“Speaking of hair, what do you think?”

As the words left my mouth, both of our ends buzzed with incoming calls.

“Ignore them!” I blurted.

“Rugge–”

“Ignore them. They’ll just poke fun, and I don’t want to hear it. Not tonight. I’m losing my shit already. By the time I getoff the phone with them I’ll be undressing and climbing in bed. They should be sleep, anyway.”

“They’re not that bad,” Rome sniggered.

“They’re the worst. Now, my hair?”

This was new for me. Everything about it. Not only was this my first time putting effort into my wardrobe and overall appearance for a date, it was the first time I’d agreed to one without murderous intention.

My hair was different. My clothes were different. My makeup was different. Nothing reminded me of Rugger. Everything linked me to Gazelle.

Who am I becoming?I asked myself, staring in the mirror at my lightly polished face.

“It’s softer. Flirty. Mature. I like it, Rugs.”

Soft curls shrunk the natural length of my hair slightly. I’d flattened it for a full hour before wrapping it piece by piece in the heatless rollers our mother had shown us how to use before we reached our teenage years.

“Yeah?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“What about the outfit?”

I stood, showing off the bodysuit that showed more cleavage than I wanted it to. Still, it was a perfect fit. I just wasn’t sure if it was the perfect fit for the night.

“What are you thinking?”

“It screams fuck me.”

“Well, maybe that’s what you’re screaming and it’s just sho–”

“Not tonight, Rome. I want it to scream something else, tonight.”

“Something like what?”

“I don’t know— maybe, that I’m ready to get to know you a little better than I know your dick.”

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