Page 108 of Goldsin

“Rule number two. The rabbits can run for however long they please, but once they get captured, they need to fully submit.”

“He illustrated power. The kind I was used to, the kind I hated, but he didn’t treat me like they did at home. He seemed to see more than just my skin. He wanted to carve the depths of it.”

“Rule number three. Consent is taken, not given. Remember, foxes.” He smirks, and the crowd goes into a frenzy, cheering loudly. But my mother’s voice is louder.

“He broke the first rule, and call me romantic, but that did it for me. The mask was off, and he was breathtaking. With deep blue eyes and the palest of skin, like snow. I thought that was a sign. I love snow.”

My throat constricts, mouth as dry as a desert as my vision blurs.

“Rule number four. You are allowed to do whatever you want to your prey. As long as you let us know where you do so, so we can deep-clean afterward.”

“He was harsh. It hurt in the beginning, but then he gave me soft kisses all over my shoulders and my cheeks and the pain faded into intoxicating pleasure.”

“And rule number five.” Lucian stills, waits a second, then shouts, “Enjoy yourselves!” He claps his hands, signaling for the game to begin.

Now I understand why Valentine didn’t seem convinced about letting me join in tonight. Why didn’t he tell me my mother was once at a party just like this one? That she wasone of the girls.

I shouldn’t have come. I can’t ... I can’t just stay here and let whatever happened to my mother happen to me too. Screw Julian and Victoria.

For fuck’s sake, screw Lucian Harrow.

Laughter erupts, and I jump at the unexpected sound. A girl without a mask is giggling as a fox chases her through the corridor. He makes menacing noises that seem to fuel her giggles even more. Goose bumps cover my whole body at the view.

They’ve all lost their minds.I shake my head in disbelief as my body shakes with horror.

“Run,” a voice whispers in my ear from behind, and I all but scream.

Fuck these lunatics.

Turning around, I raise my hand, ready to slap the last remaining brain cell out of them, when the man wearing a fox mask dodges it with no effort. His hands are in his pockets while he stands still, unaffected.

“Run,” he repeats, “or you’ll be easy prey. You don’t want to be caught by the wrong fox.”

I don’t recognize his voice. Or his nonchalant demeanor.

He reaches for the pin before I can back away and brushes his thumb over it. “The royal rabbit. They’ve already staked their claim.”

“What do you mean?” My eyes bore into his. “Staked their claim? I’m not an object! No one can claim me!”

His laugh is velvet, a slimy caress to my tense nerves. It deepens my unease.

“Oh, but they already have.”

“Who are you?” My stomach churns.

“Does it matter?” The black holes where his eyes are lock with mine. “All that matters is that you need to hide—now.”

I stare at the shades of red in his mask, how they play with the scarce light of the candle. If I squint my eyes, the fox appears to be moving. Alive and vigilant.

“Do we know each other?” Attempting to catch a glimpse of him, I take a step around him. Waves of dark golden hair, almost like burned honey, frame the red mask as a few strands fall over it. I try to move a tad to the left. This way, the candlelight can cast more light over him, and I’ll be able to see more of him.

But he’s a fox.Intuitive, intelligent, and playful. And at my imperceptible movement, he blows on the candle.

Destroying the only way I had to learn more about him.

Leaving me between the claws of the shadows.

“Wait!” Urgency taints my voice, but it still comes just below a whisper.

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