Hunter-Hunted

Chapter 5: Head versus Heart

Mon sighed.

She felt rather spent after the eventful day and evening that she had. The carnival had drawn to a complete close about an hour before and the moon was already sinking at the late hour – or early, depending on the way you look at it. The compound was silent as the guests had all gone and the tenants were mostly passed out drunk in their quarters.

Mon was not much intoxicated, though she felt about as contemplative as a philosophical drunk as she leaned onto the arm rest of the divan in her room. Her fingers fiddled idly with the red string and small bell still secured around her one wrist, her eyes studying every inch carefully as if it might offer up some interesting piece of information, something more for Mon to consider, something more regarding Sam.

As she whispered the name into the quiet air around her, she could feel slow goosebumps pop up across her skin as if she had been touched by the gentlest of breezes. Briefly she wished that she could have felt the touch of Sam instead. The moment was fleeting, however, before she chastised herself again for her wandering thoughts and her wayward desires.

The inkling of a thought of Freen popped into the back of her mind, but this was even more fleeting and seemingly purely out of guilt before her thoughts once again returned to the rogue unbidden. Mon allowed herself some indulgence and relaxed backward further in her plush seat as she conjured up the image of Sam before her eyes. Mon reached out her hand and touched the cool space before her, empty as it may be, while in her mind's eye she traced the pad of her thumb over Sam's brow, then down the scar etched there. She wondered how the rebel had acquired it, though judging by her questionable hobbies, Mon couldn't really be surprised. She wondered whether there were any other scars on her body. She wondered exactly what that seemingly perfectly toned body looked like beneath all that leather and denim. What it would feel like underneath her eager hands. Would her muscles flex as Mon dragged her hands along the smooth skin?

Mon blushed and sighed. She knew she was playing a dangerous game. As much as she tried to justify this moment to herself by arguing that it's harmless enough to let her imagination go, deep down she realised that indulging in her fantasies in this way could easily pique her curiosity enough to encourage her to seek it out. She did not know whether she'd be strong enough to turn away from such an opportunity.

Fate sure had a questionable sense of humour.

Something made a clicking noise against Mon's window and though she didn't notice the first time, her attention was caught the second time around. By the time she had moved from her position, there was a third click. Realising that whatever was going on was intentional, she was quick to her feet and was carefully creeping over to the window to figure things out by the time the fourth click came.

Opening the large Tuscan-style window, she peered down into the darkness warily, gasping as she spotted the object of her recent obsessions. One floor down was Sam with her hood drawn and her mask secured, presumably to hide herself more successfully in the shadows surrounding the villa. It was her smile that really gave her away – wide and beautiful and shining with promise.

"What are you doing here?" Mon whisper-shouted down at her, trying her best to sound stern and aggravated, though there was no way to deny the current racing of her heart and the swarm of butterflies fluttering around her stomach.

"I couldn't sleep." Sam shrugged casually before reaching for the thick vines that crept up the wall beneath the window. "May I?"

"This isn't some Shakespearian love story! You are not Romeo and I am not your Juliet!" If it was possible, Mon's heart beat even faster. She was caught between feeling terrified at getting caught, and feeling intense exhilaration at the situation and the possibility of what was to come.