1
NOVA
23 MONTHS AGO
Run. Don’t stop.
My lungs were burning, but my feet were sure, carrying me farther away from the crashing footsteps of my pursuers. Darting between the trees, dead leaves crunching underfoot, I kept to the shadows as much as I could. It was dark, but not dark enough, and there was a chance I could be seen.
My goal was to keep out of sight until I could circle back to the manor. If people recognised me, they’d stay away, because they knew I was promised tohim. They knew who my father was. I was untouchable.
But my goal tonight was to go unrecognised. To run. To hide. To emerge unscathed and victorious.
Out here, no one owned me. Out here, I wasn’t a pawn in my family’s games. I was just me. Nova Thorpe, the incognito version.
Skidding to a halt beneath the cover of a thick clump of fir trees, I curled over and slammed my hands down on mythighs, gasping in lungfuls of pine-scented air. When I could breathe properly again, I straightened up, listening.
The only sound was my own breaths, loud in the silence. Covering my mouth, I stilled. A distant scream came from somewhere behind me, but a hushed silence blanketed my surroundings.
I’d been so confident earlier, but now? Now I was wondering if I’d made a mistake. Tugging my hoodie strings to make sure my hood was tight against my head, with none of my blonde hair showing, I pressed the switch on my mask that would change the lights from the blue that marked me as prey to red.
The colour of a hunter. The colour of blood.
I slunk into the shadows, a red glow softly illuminating the trunk in front of me, the light too dim to penetrate the darkness behind.
It was so still.Toostill.
Snap.
The distinct sound of a twig breaking underfoot, followed by the faint glow of a torch.
My fight-or-flight instinct kicked in, and my feet moved before my brain even had a chance to catch up. I shaded my own torch with my hand so I didn’t give away my position as I raced for the part of the woods where the trees grew more closely together, ancient, gnarled, and wild.
This time, my pursuer was on my heels.
Putting on another burst of speed, I threw myself forwards, faster than I’d ever run before. Brambles caught on my hoodie, but I tore free, my heart pounding as I pumped my legs, running headlong.
But I wasn’t fast enough. I was suddenly surrounded by heat and a delicious spicy scent as an arm shot out, pulling me back into a tall, hard body.
Fuck.
“Hello, princess,” a voice murmured in my ear, and I shivered despite myself. Of all the people who had to catch me, why did it have to be the boy who hated me, and I hated in return?
I inhaled deeply, then exhaled, trying to slow my racing heart. “What do you want?” I hissed. I didn’t even bother to struggle—when it came to physical strength, I was no match for Jayesh Attwood. But I had other tricks I could use. You didn’t grow up in the Thorpe Syndicate with a family like mine without learning a thing or two about getting out of a sticky situation.For now, though, I needed to bide my time.
The torch strapped to his wrist sent light dancing across my body as his thumb stroked over my stomach, and I hated the way it raised goosebumps over my skin. “To catch my prey,” he said in a low rasp, his lips skimming the shell of my ear.
I gritted my teeth. My brother really needed to choose his asshole best friends more carefully. Daniel was an immature dick, although, thankfully, he was mostly polite to me, and as for Jay…
When we were younger, he was just another of my brother’s annoying friends. By the time we were in year ten at school, though, it had become clear. Jay hated me, and I didn’t even know why. There was literally nothing I’d done to deserve his ire. Nothing I was aware of, at least.
To add insult to injury, he was the most gorgeous boy I’d ever seen, even when he was sneering at me or treating me to a cutting remark out of earshot of my brother. Raven hair with a slight curl that swept across his forehead like he was a fucking runway model, intense, deep brown eyes fringed with long black lashes, an expressive mouth that was either curved into a grin—with his friends—or a smirk-slash-sneer—with me. And that was just his face. Then there was his hot-as-fuck body, moving with athletic grace whether he was on the ice or prowling around the school halls, all smooth brown skin and lean, sculpted muscles… I tried not to think about other parts of him, but I’d heard the rumours about the size of his package. Although I had no interest whatsoever in finding out if the rumours were true, if the size of his dick corresponded with his dickishness, then yes, it was huge.
Maybe it was karma—good looks to balance out his ugly personality. Or maybe the world was an unfair place.
“I’m not your prey. I’m not anyone’s prey,” I ground out. “And you’d better hope my fiancé isn’t somewhere out here in the woods.”
He stiffened, his hold on me tightening.
