Page 120 of A Requiem of Fire and Ice

“We can’t even last a fucking hour before I want to sink my claws into you, so…” When we leave the hall, I let go of her, fold my arms across my chest and let a smirk settle across my face. “Let’s play a game, Pandora Hart.”

Chapter 48

The Hunted: Pandora Hart, July 26th

The house creaks with a sense of oldness ingrained in floorboards, squeaky hinges, and hollow walls. Lamps with yellow light hang on small globes, barely penetrating any form of glow when I move five feet away from them. Shadows drench me when I creep down the hallway on the second floor, wondering where to hide.

A grin widens when I remember the game Prince Reen wanted to play. Hide-and-seek. Such a simple game played by children at home when a power outage had turned everything into a dark, boring world.

We never played hide-and-seek at home. My parents were too busy sharpening knives or being anywhere else but at home to give Typha and me the affection we thrived for when we were younger—a disconnected family filled with rules and regulations instead of love and light humour.

Before I turn the corner, I glance back the way I came. Darkness, emptiness, and silence drench the halls. I enter another hallway and wonder how long I have crept around the corridors. It seemed as if five minutes had already passed, and every room I tried opening or looking inside had nothing unique to offer.

A closet, bed, or hiding behind a door—such simple places to hide where Prince Reen can easily sense. It leads me to roam a lot more, hoping I don’t stumble into him.

We should mingle with couples and act in the mission’s best interest, but we are desperate for a thrill. Besides, as Alad had said, we’re basically fucking useless. Why not make the most of a dull situation?

I reach another door, grip the handle, and peer inside. It is a simple office with no other exit and only a table for cover. Too simple. Too fucking easy for a prince.

My feet move from the floorboards to the lavish cream trail rug, which muffles my footsteps. The straps on the heels I wore hung from two fingers because they clicked after I scrambled up the stairs, making too much noise.

I eye the heels, sparkling with diamonds, and then the trail rug. Hooking my toes underneath the carpet, I ruffle it, flicking it until it wrinkles and resting a heel beside the lifted carpet. As stupid as it sounds, I’m creating a scene for him. Then, I move further down the hall and push the end back so it seems as if I raced through the hallway, stumbled, and then kept running.

I’m masterful.

Walking back the way I came, my heart thumps loudly at the darkness, alluring and frightening, thickening in the air with every step. He could round the corner before my plan comes into play, which would screw me over.

A tingling sensation prickles the nape of my neck. I turn around, eyeing the hallway, but there’s no one there.

Fuck. I am putting myself on edge.

I enter a door on the left and into a bedroom with a canopy bed, long wooden pillars, thin lacy curtains, and frilly pillows. It smells of dust, but I push it aside, close the door without a sound, and figure out where I will hide.

I place the other shoe on the end table beside the door and creep through the room when I hear the floorboards creaking. My focus snaps to the door and the soft footsteps moving toward me. I suck in a sharp breath, steady the erratic beat of my heart and listen.

A shadow moves past the room, and the elemny keeps moving down the hallway. When I can’t hear them anymore, I grip the handle. Carefully, I twist the handle, open the door, and peer out. The hallway is empty, and the footsteps move down another part of the house. Keeping my eye on the way he went, I turn, hitting into a furnace.

I step back, thrusting my palm out when he grabs my hand swiftly, twists it until he pins my arm against my back, pushes me into the room and shuts the door. Inviting and delicate heat shudders a path of fire creeping down the nape of my neck when he drinks me in.

“Found you,” he breathes.

Chapter 49

The Hunter: Reen Kyong, July 26th

Her movements are methodical, cautious, and silent. The dress she wears drags across the ground, but it’s not enough to bother her, unlike the heels. Pandora kicked them off as soon as she got up the flight of stairs, and now they hang on her fingers.

I take every step she takes to match her energy. The creaking floorboards alert her, but because I move the same as her, she renders them her steps and keeps going. Whenever she opens a door, peering through and analysing a place to hide, I step into the darkness if she glances down the hallway from the corner of her eye.

She’s a cautious little creature. Pandora has expertise in stepping and moving. She flattens her foot from the tip to minimise the sound, while others would think placing all your weight on your toes and tip-toeing would do the trick. It doesn’t. The sounds amplify when all the pressure is applied to the tips.

Fuck. The way she handles herself.

Pandora, agree to my terms, become a Knight of Eraminia and get Walkyer to place me in a contract so I can’t kill you. I don’t want this to fucking end.

I admire her endless stubbornness the most. Her desperate desire for freedom will outweigh any safety and protection, even if it prolongs her life.

She turns the corner but looks in my direction. Hiding in the darkness, letting black flames flurry, drenching me in more shadows, Pandora deems there’s no threat and keeps moving.