Page 15 of Hunt Me

His mask hid him all right. Hid him all too well.

It dawns on me that the Skull before me is no monster. Not one in the typical sense anyway.

He stands as still as a statue, his chiselled physique adding to the stone-like look. High cheekbones and sinful lips, lips that are pressed together in annoyance.

Big guy isnothappy.

‘Give me it back,’ he demands, voice rough and laced with anger.

His mask feels soft in my hand, entirely at odds with his ridged posture. The only rough part being the whites of the bones that are sewn onto the loose black fabric.

Like a red rag to a bull, I hold up the mask waving it around.

‘Here kitty,’ I make a kissing sound with my lips because I have a death wish.

Rage consumes his face, broad shoulders straightening to his full height as he towers over me.

I lean to my right, cocking my hip and tucking the mask into my side. Nibbling on my bottom lip in attempts to mask the grin I feel pulling at my lips, I stand my ground.

Why do you always have a death wish, Fauna?

‘I will not ask again,’ hegrowls.

Why is he asking? Surely the monster in him is itching to take it, I know he can. I’m quick, but I doubt I can outrun him and instead of that filling me with fear, it fills me with a completely different feeling, one I’m not familiar with.

I look down at the mask, now open in front of me.

‘It’s mine now. And you know… finders keepers and all,’ I quip goading him into reacting.

A calloused palm stretches between us, beckoning me to give over the mask.

‘Now.’

This time, I can’t stop the grin as I feel it overtake my face. The corners of my eyes scrunch with the motion.

He sees it too, his eyes narrowing further as he steps towards me.

I’m quick to skip backwards out of his grip and because I haven’t had this much adrenaline coursing through my veins in months I decide to shove the mask over my head.

The black fabric slides on with no issue and I giggle imagining how the big fucks head — a lot larger than my own — has helped with this task. Once on, I quickly adjust it so that the eye holes fall over my own, allowing me to see clearly and all I see is him.

All I smell ishim.

Fuck all Ifeelis him with this thing on.

Earthy scents fill my senses instantly refreshing me — like when the sun comes out after the rain. It’s so… soothing and it feels painfully like home. Memories of when I used to run through the muddy fields with my parents, carefree as I jumped through grassy puddles.

A tightness closes around my chest making it feel impossibly tight. My hand pulls at the fabric of my shirt, and the neckline feels like it is choking me.

The forgotten Skull in front of me clears his throat and I look up, feeling my cheeks flaming hot. He saw whatever that was and for a second his eyes were somehow softer.

Not now though.

Now they are back to scowling daggers straight at me.

His hair adds to the severity of the glare. Short sides that lead down to intricate tattoos across the back of his neck and I assume beneath his hair. I can’t quite make out what they are at the angle I’m currently standing at.

I can see his fisted hands though. His thumb grazing against his scarred knuckles as he continues to watch me.