I open the latch, step off the property, and shut the door behind me.
I take two steps.
The floodlights blind me.
So, I run.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
TRISTAN
I saidI love to play games. I never said I play fair.
The tracker sewn into the hem of Daphne’s robe shows me she’s gone northeast. She’s slowed her pacing, and I think she stopped running.
That’ll be her first mistake.
Wheeling my chair back from my computer setup, I pick up my ghostly masquerade mask from the desk. I slip it on and flip up the hood of my grey zip-up hoodie.
This is the perfect opportunity to see if she loves the reality of a masked man as much as she loves the fantasy. I stroll past the pool, beyond the guest house, and lift the latch on my backyard fence. The floodlights stay off since I shut them down for the next hour.
Checking my tracker, Daphne’s headed north now, so I trek through the woods. Twigs break under my boots. The bursting orange and red leaves are diluted in the morning fog. A chill hovers in the air, but it’s warm for November, and I couldn’t have picked a better morning.
Daphne makes a sharp turn west, so I follow. She’s onlyten minutes into our game, and I’ve got her right where I want her. About two hundred yards ahead.
My skin buzzes with excitement now as I tuck the tracker into my pocket to make this a more legitimate hunt for my woman.
Awareness hums through me like a revving engine as I scan through the trees, the fog clouding my view.
A flash of bright green streaks off in the distance, and I stop walking.
Leaves rustle as Daphne dashes further away from me.
A smile creeps under my mask. I’ve got her right where I want her.
I run, following the sounds of snapping twigs up ahead until another streak of emerald darts out from behind a tree. Daphne takes off, her pale hair whipping behind her like a curtain in the wind.
She looks back at me, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and excitement.
So I stop and tilt my head at her. She knows she’s caught. So I let her go and give her a chance to escape.
She bolts around a cluster of trees and up, over a ridge.
I follow. My heart hammers hard as I run faster now until a cloudy emerald figure disappears into the fog again.
Twigs stop cracking, and I pause.
There’s silence.
“There’s no point in hiding,” I call out. “I know where you are.” I mean, I have a rough idea of where she is, and all I need is one sound to tell me exactly where she’s hiding.
I can outrun her easily, but where’s the fun in that?
“Remember what I told you the day we met?” I take a few steps forward, but she stays silent.
“When a woman’s turned on, we know.” Something in my gut draws me to the clump of trees on the left.
And that’s when I see it. A slice of the emerald robe tie poking out from around a large trunk. I step closer and leaves rustle under my boots. I don’t care if I give my position away.
