“Do you like it?” Hunter asks, noticing my lingering gaze. He moves closer, eliminating what little space remains between us. “Does it scare you, Aurora?”
“No,” I lie, my back pressing harder against the counter as I try to maintain some distance. “I’m not scared of you.”
His laugh is low and knowing. “Your pulse says otherwise.” His fingers brush against my neck, finding my racing heartbeat. “But it’s not just fear, is it?”
I swallow hard, unable to deny the contradictory emotions swirling within. Terror and excitement tangle together in ways I can’t separate.
“Why the hunt? Why the mask?” I press again, desperate to understand what’s happening between us. “Is this all just a game to you?”
Hunter places both hands on the counter, truly boxing me in. His breath fans across my face, warm through the mask’s mouth opening.
“A game?” His voice drops. “Games have rules, Aurora. Rules can be bent.” He leans closer, his masked face inches from mine. “This is more... primal.”
My heart hammers against my ribs. The kitchen suddenly feels too small, the air too thick.
“Then what is it?” I challenge, though my voice betrays me with a slight tremble.
“A hunt requires instinct.” One of his hands moves to my waist, fingers pressing into my hip with possessive pressure. “Like what’s between us. Pure instinct.”
I should push him away. I should run. I should remember Olivia. But my body refuses to obey what my mind knows is right.
“I don’t have those instincts,” I lie.
Hunter’s laugh is dark, knowing. “Your eyes say otherwise.” His thumb traces my bottom lip, and I hate how my mouth parts slightly at his touch. “Your body says otherwise.”
“This doesn’t make sense,” I whisper, more to myself than him.
“Doesn’t it?” His other hand slides up my neck, cupping my jaw. “From the moment I pulled you from that cliff, I knew.”
“Knew what?”
His eyes bore into mine through the mask. “That you’re mine.”
The possessiveness in his voice should repulse me. Instead, it ignites something deep and dangerous.
“I’m not yours,” I say, but it sounds hollow even to my own ears. “I can’t be.”
“Can’t? Or won’t?” His thumb strokes my cheek, surprisingly gentle for a predator. “There’s a difference.”
My hands remain flat against the counter behind me, neither pushing him away nor pulling him closer. I’m frozen in my own contradiction.
“You promised me a prize,” Hunter says, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I’ve caught you.”
In this moment of twisted intimacy, I see my opportunity. Hunter’s entirely focused on my face, his hands preoccupied with caging me in. His stance is wide, confident.
“You’re right,” I whisper, letting my body soften. His eyes flash with triumph behind the skull mask.
That’s when I strike.
I drive my knee upward with all my strength, connecting solidly with his groin. Hunter doubles over with a guttural sound that’s half-roar, half-gasp. The mighty predator, suddenly reduced to something mortal.
“You just fucking—” he chokes out, but I’m already moving.
I shove past him while he’s still hunched over, adrenaline surging through my veins. My feet slip slightly on the polished kitchen floor as I sprint toward the hallway. Behind me, I hear Hunter’s labored breathing, followed by a string of curses that would make a sailor blush.
The front door is just ahead. My escape. My lungs burn as I push myself faster, hands already reaching for the handle. Just a few more steps and I’ll be outside, away from this madness, away from him.
“Run out that door,” Hunter’s voice booms from behind me, the pain in it replaced by something darker, “and I’ll have a fucking field day with you outside.”
