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The hunter.
The beast.
I don’t hunt out of the goodness of my heart. I do it because something ticks differently in my head. Past trauma? Sure. But I was always different even before it all happened. And fuck, did it happen.
She sets her cup down, gray eyes staring at something to the left of my shoulder. Probably just the wall to avoid looking into my cold eyes.
“Why am I here?”
Already she’s not asking the right questions. Why she’s here is obvious.
I take a hit of my cigar, taking inventory of her. She was like a light to my dark. A lighthouse guiding me home from the sea. From her dirty blonde hair with streaks of light brown and bleach blonde, to her soft round face and high cheekbones. The soft petal pink of her lips, dove light gray eyes that captured me, she was what wet dreams are made of.. Even if said wet dream included me cutting open her sternum as I feel her come around my cock.
“Because your fiancé is shitty at poker.”
She closes her eyes, like she’s in pain and my eyes trail down the red seeping from her white dress. I knew red would be so pretty on her.
Her eyes pop open and she shakes her head. “No, why me? Why not just take the money? Why did you have to take me? I’m nobody.”
She wasn’t wrong. She is nobody, even more so now locked in my castle.
I lean my elbows on the table, my eyes drilling into the side of her face as she looks away. “When you’re as rich as me, money is just that, money. A piece of paper or digital number with nothing really backing it up.” I take a hit, blowing it out. “I get bored. I’ve done everything there is to do, to see, to get high on, but nothing beats the high of hunting the top of the food chain. Criminals, people like me.”
She swallows, hard. “So, you’re a bad man?”
I chuckle, “The fucking worst.”
I see a tear trace down her cheek, and it takes a lot for me not to walk over and lick it off her.
“What are the rules?”
Ah, she finally starts asking the right questions. “To what?” I play dumb.
“To survive.” She says it so softly, I almost don’t hear her.
“The hunt happens once a month. I spend my time gathering up the worst criminals on the planet, trapping them and imprisoning them. To survive the game, you have to be the last one standing, which buys you another month to live. That is…until I get bored of you.”
She shivers, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood. “And the rule until my time is done?”
I shrug, leaning back in the chair, letting smoke flood my vision. “Don’t go in the west wing, that’s my personal area. Try not to cause too much trouble. Honestly, I don’t really care how you spend your last days on earth. You have free reign inside and out.”
She finally faces me and the hate on her face, fuck, it makes me hard. “Are you not worried I’ll try to escape?”
I smirk, “I’d be worried if you didn’t. But you won’t. It’s not possible.” I rise, stretching my arms above my head. “AndConstance,” she flinches at my use of her name, “Next time you’re offered food, fucking eat it. When I kill you, it won’t be with poison.”
“Sir?”
I wave Francis in. He’s my right-hand man, the one with my deepest secrets, the only person I trust.
“Miss Constance is resting in her room.”
I nod, looking out at the sea from my office view. “Any injuries?”
“I can’t be sure, she refused to have anyone look at her.”
That’s not a surprise to me. I could tell by looking in her eyes that first night she had lived more life than the company she kept. “Did she eat?”
“Yes, sir.”
