Page 10 of His to Hunt

"It means he's offering you an alternative." His eyes remain locked with mine as he takes the ribbon, his fingers brushing my palm in a touch that feels both casual and deliberate. "It means he's willing to claim what I've already marked as mine."

"Maybe I prefer his offer," I suggest, watching for his reaction.

His lips curve, but the smile doesn't reach his eyes. "No. You don't."

"You don't know what I want."

"Don't I?" He steps closer, the heat of him pressing against my space without touching. "You want to escape. Freedom. A way out of whatever cage brought you here under false pretenses. There's no other explanation for your presence tonight."

My breath catches, unsettled by his accuracy.

"But that man isn't offering freedom," he continues, voice low and certain. "He's offering a different kind of ownership. One with higher walls and fewer doors."

"And what are you offering?" I ask, hating the slight waver in my voice.

He doesn't answer immediately. Instead, he reaches up, one gloved hand gently touching the collar at my throat. Not pulling, not tightening—just a reminder of its presence.

"Something you won't find with anyone else in this room," he says finally. "Honesty."

I nearly laugh. "Honesty? In a place built on masks andlies?"

"Precisely why it's valuable." His thumb traces the edge of the velvet, the leather of his glove cool against my skin. "I won't pretend this isn't about ownership. But unlike the others, I won't lie about what that means."

"What happens now?" I ask, not backing away despite every instinct urging me to run.

His hand moves from my throat to cup my jaw with unexpected gentleness. "Now you make a choice. Keep the collar. Accept my claim. Or remove it—and face whatever comes next alone."

"Tell me, honestly. Why are you doing this?" I whisper, voicing the question that's been burning since he first locked eyes with me.

"Because you're not wearing an anklet," he says simply. "Because you walked in here like you owned the place, even though you're terrified. Because when I look at you—" his eyes search mine, almost curious, "—I see something worth taking."

The confession settles between us, heavy and unavoidable.

My goal was to escape without being claimed, get the money, and have a funeral for my family name and move on. Now knowing I have to outrun this man's claim complicates things. Immensely.

I should slap him. I should run. I should tear the collar from my neck and throw it in his perfect, arrogant face.

Instead, I hear myself say, "Then I guess you'd better not lose me in the Hunt."

Something flares in his eyes—surprise, perhaps. Or satisfaction.

"Oh, I won't lose you, little thief." His thumb traces my lower lip, a touch so light it's almost reverent. "I'm going to find you, catch you, and claim every inch of what you're pretending notto offer."

His certainty should frighten me. Instead, it sends heat straight to my core.

I step back, needing distance before I do something truly foolish. "We'll see."

His smile is slow, predatory. "Yes. We will." He closes the distance between us again, his height forcing me to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact. "Though I must admit, there's something... refreshing about a woman who thinks she has a choice."

"Excuse me?"

"We both know how this ends," he continues, voice dropping to a silken murmur. "I'll hunt you. I'll catch you. You'll resist—just enough to make it interesting—and then you'll surrender." His gloved hand rises to my cheek. "It's inevitable. Little lambs who come to play with the wolves always end up devoured."

My spine straightens as anger flares hot and bright in my chest. "Is that what you think this is? Some predictable little game where I'm playing hard to get?"

"Isn't it?" His thumb traces my lower lip, his confidence absolute. "You could have removed the collar. You didn't. You could have run when I approached. You didn't. Even now, standing here alone with me, you're trembling—not from fear, but anticipation." He leans closer, his breath warm against my ear. "You want to be caught, little thief. You're just too proud to admit it."

The restraint I've been clinging to shatters like glass. Heat floods my body—not desire, but pure, blinding rage. Every ounce of fear, frustration, and defiance crystallizes into a single, unstoppable impulse.

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