Page 20 of His to Hunt

I swallow hard, feeling the velvet collar tighten with the movement. "Everyone's running from something."

"But not everyone steals an invitation to the Owner's Club to do it." His fingers trail from the choker to my jaw. "That takes a special kind of desperation."

"Or stupidity," I mutter.

He laughs—a genuine sound that catches me off guard with its warmth. "Perhaps a bit of both."

For a moment, we simply stand there, my back against the ancient oak, his body blocking any path to freedom, his fingers still resting lightly against my jaw. The night settles around us, the sounds of the Hunt distant now, as if the forest itself is holding its breath.

"What happens now?" I finally ask, unable to bear the tension any longer.

His hand drops to my waist, not gripping, just resting there like he has all the time in the world. "Now? Now you have a choice."

"I thought the whole point of the Hunt was that I don't get a choice."

"The Hunt is about ritual. About performance." He leans closer, the mask's grinning death just inches from my face. "But what happens between us after I catch you? That's about something else entirely."

"And what's that?"

"Power," he says simply. "Who has it. Who wants it. Who's willing to surrender it."

I lift my chin, meeting the empty eyes of the mask with as much defiance as I can muster. "And if I refuse to surrender?"

His grip on my waist tightens, just slightly, just enough to remind me of the strength behind his controlled movements. "Then we stay here, in these woods, playing this game until one of us breaks. And it won't be me."

The certainty in his voice sends a shiver down my spine—not entirely from fear. There's something else mixed in now, something I don't want to acknowledge. Curiosity, thrill, a treacherous whisper that wonders what surrender might feel like.

"And if I don't break?" I challenge.

I can't see his smile behind the mask, but I can hear it in his voice. "Then I get to enjoy the pleasure of trying to break you for a very, very long time."

His hand slides from my waist to the small of my back, drawing me closer until our bodies touch—chest to chest, hip to hip, his heat seeping through the thin fabric of my torn dress.

Before I can respond, his fingers slide beneath the edge of my mask. I should stop him—this final barrier is all that stands between me and complete exposure—but I remain still as he carefully lifts it away.

The cool night air touches my flushed cheeks as the mask comes free. I feel naked in a way that has nothing to do with clothing. The disguise that let me steal another woman's place, that gave me the courage to enter this dangerous game, is gone.

I don't answer. Can't answer. Because the truth is, it's worse. Without the mask, without that barrier between us,there's nothing to hide behind. Nothing to pretend this is just a game, just a ritual, just a night that will end when the sun rises.

He tosses the piece of ceramic to the ground before his eyes scan my fully revealed face, taking in every detail with an intensity that makes me want to turn away. But his hand catches my chin, keeping my gaze locked with his.

"There you are," he says softly, something like satisfaction in his voice. "No more hiding."

I reach up, intending to pull his mask off his face, but his firm grip on my wrist stops me.

I click my tongue and roll my eyes. I can't stop the small part of me that hopes he's not disappointed with what he finds underneath the mask. Because that would mean I cared about what he thought. Which I don't.

His eyes search mine, reading the conflict written there. "You still haven't made your choice, little thief."

"What choice?" I whisper.

"Whether you're going to keep fighting me," his grip tightens, fingers pressing into the small of my back, "or whether you're going to admit what we both already know."

"And what's that?"

I can see his lips curve into a smile beneath that haunting mask of his, a smile that's both beautiful and terrifying in its certainty.

"That you've been mine since the moment you stepped into that ballroom."

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