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The participant next to him holds up his hand, licking his lips nervously while his gaze flicks from Copper Mask, who’s standing across from him, holding rope, back to the Elder. “I can’t do this,” he whispers. “I can’t?—”
He’s ignored. Instead, my brothers start to count down with the church bells. “Five, four?—”
“Please!” He calls out. Someone chortles at his panic.
“Three, two, one?—”
“Run!”
Participants take off in a flurry, even the terrified one, running as they hide for cover. We watch them go with smirks on our mouths. All, except for one. Romain’s still standing there, straight as a candle, stiff as a brick, his large, dark, thickly lashed eyes on mine.
“Why you?” He blurts.
“Why aren’t you running, son?” Elder Jacques asks. Next to me, I can feel the others look at him. Raising my hand, I decide I don’t want their gazes on him.
“Brothers, enjoy the Wicked Chase. It seems mine has already started. Right here.” I smirk when I catch the faintest of flickers in those charcoal eyes. Around us, brothers take off with an exciting howl, off on their way to chase and torment their prey, and even Elder Jacques takes his cue to slither back into the darkness.
When I’m sure that it’s just him and me and the pitch-dark forest, I let my smile widen, licking my tongue over my golden tooth. Romain’s gaze dips and he clears his throat, his lips once more pinched tightly, as if he needs to prove to himself that he is disgusted by the sight.
“Welcome back into my life, pet.” I hum, testing the waters.
“Pet?” He sneers, eyes turning to slits behind the silken mask. “Pet? I’m not your pet. I’m no one’s property.” He hesitates, as if he wants to add something, and his shoulders tighten. He doesn’t, instead takes a step back, but when I take one forward, he lifts a hand from his pocket.
There. A flicker in the dim light. He too, is carrying a knife, and that shouldn’t arouse me the way it does. Hmm…interesting.
Raising a brow, I point the tip of mine toward his filled hand. “Ah, you’ve come prepared, I see?”
He snorts at that, but keeps the knife in his hand for me to see. So much show for me tonight. It’s a smaller version than my golden Damascus pocket knife, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be deathly sharp. “Why you?” He asks again.
I take another step forward, burning his gaze with mine. “You were never a match for me, petit amour.”
“Stop.” He lifts his hand and the tip of the knife mindlessly kisses the pitch-dark sky. I take another step toward him. “Stop…just…stop. You have no right.”
Now, that…“Me?” I chuckle. “No right? Watch me, Romain, because if it’s right that I’m missing, I’ll go and fucking get it.” The skin behind my golden mask is burning with fierceness and my hand instinctively reaches for my pocket. Romain watches me, takes another step back, then puffs out his chest.
“Is this still about the money?”
My hand lingers. “What money?”
“The debt Maman made all those years ago.” He takes a deep breath through his nose. “If that’s what this is about, I can pay that back.”
I shake my head. “It’s not about the money.”
Romain brushes a hand through his short, dark hair, and looks to the side, his frustration obvious by the clenching of his jaw. “Edouard, time has changed things.”
“Love the poetry,” I clack my tongue, then point the tip of my knife toward his head. “We’re going to need to have that grow back.”
He snorts at that. “Excuse me?”
“Your hair. I like to be able to manhandle you when you’re down on my knees for me. Can’t do that with very short hair.”
“You can go and fuck yourself, you know that, right?” The tip of his knife points accusingly at my chest.
I chuckle. “I’d rather have you for the fucking, petit amour. Tell me, did you miss me after all those years?” When I take another step forward, he shuffles back with a disdainful huff. I carry on, needing to make my point. “You know, I told my new brothers about you when I came here in September, and you know what your fellow mates told me? That it was impossible, that you were frigid. A friendly dude,” I air quote, “but no dating material. Couldn’t get it up, supposingly. Couldn’t you?” I take another step, and this time his back hits the tree behind him.
Two participants stand huddled in the shadows, watching us with great intent. If they intended to hide, they failed miserably, because even Romain sees them.
“Guys?” He asks. “Can you please?—”
