“Why? So you can chase me until we’re both exhausted? No thanks.”
He scowled. “But you have to run. Those are the rules.”
“Actually, they’re not.” But she did have to get out of this clearing, so she casually moved on, traveling slowly through the narrow path of the hedges where stone bridges and shallow walls curved ahead. Peter followed, but the way a child follows a butterfly.
His presence actually helped her. As long as he—a hunter—was with her, others were less likely to bother her. She feigned interest so he’d keep escorting her.
“How many tributes have you caught so far?”
“Three.”
“Three?”
He let out a cocky grin. “I’m the catch.”
She rolled her eyes at his arrogance.
“You’ll need to go a little faster to get the blood pumping,” he said, twirling and skipping every few steps.
“I’m not going to run from you.”
“Why not? If I catch you, we get to fuck.”
Stunned by his indifference, she turned on him. “Do you think every tribute here is dying to sleep with you?”
He staggered to a stop and cocked his head. “Me personally?”
“Any one of you. You’re literally hunting us.”
He grinned. “I know.”
Her expression fell. “You’re completely deranged.”
“Well, that’s rather hurtful. A man isn’t deranged just because he likes playing with pretty things.”
“We’re not things.”
“You’re getting paid to be here. Technically, you’re whatever I want you to be.”
She scowled at his entitlement. “Leave me alone.”
“Not a chance. I like you. You’re feisty.” His footsteps kept a leisurely pace behind her, never quite closing the distance, but never letting it grow.
“You know, most of them want to be caught,” he said, voice casual and friendly. “Two million pounds is better than one.”
She ignored him.
“It’s bad form not to run.”
“I’m not going to run from you.” The moment she did, he’d catch her.
The only way to avoid being caught by a man-child like Peter was to act disinterested.
“I’m a rather good lover.”
“Then why are you walking around alone like a lost boy?”
He laughed. “I’m not alone. I’m with you.”
