Reaping The Red Heir

"Run?" I repeated dumbly, taken aback by his suggestion. "You want me to run?"

"I want you to try, little Reaper."

I shouldn't have been surprised, yet his challenge left me reeling. My gaze flicked between the dark forest and Pierce's eerily lit eyes. Slowly, I rose to my feet.

"A game, is it?"

"You could call it that."

"How do I win?" I asked, unable to keep the curiosity from my voice.

"Technically, you would need to outrun me," he said, his voice dripping with condescension. "An outcome we both recognize as improbable as the moon plummeting from the sky... It's hardly a balanced game and would rob me of any thrill." His gaze slid to the quiver resting by my boots as if daring me to make a move.

"However—if you impale me with one of those three poisoned arrows, I'll take it as a sign of affection." He flashed a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'll return the favor by escorting you back to your beloved Calix and the rest of your bloodthirsty little friends... tonight."

"Why would I bother with all that effort when you've already given me the liberty to leave whenever I please?" I asked with a tilt of my head.

"Because, little Reaper, you revel in games as much as I do, especially when I'm your opponent." He crossed his arms, his grin a taunt.

I didn't deny it.

"And what reward awaits you if you manage to snag me before I take my shot?"

"If you fail to hit your mark—" He licked his fangs, and my skin flushed cold despite the warmth of the Glades. "...I get to feed."

I chewed on my inner cheek, considering. No vampire had ever sunk their fangs into me, and Pierce wouldn't be the first.

Let the games begin.

"How far?" I asked, unable to hide the eagerness in my voice.

"Start at the edge of the clearing," He gestured to the break in the trees a dozen yards behind me with a nod of his head.

I pretended to stretch, buying myself a moment to gather my thoughts. I was a damn good shot, but his reflexes and agility meant I'd have to be precise.

Splitting-a-hair-from-twenty-paces, precise.

My eyes didn't stray from his as I stooped to retrieve the bow. "Ready?"

"Whenever you are."

I straightened, the weapon feeling like an extension of my arm. A natural part of me. Everything else faded into the background until there was only him—those damnable red eyes, gleaming like freshly spilled blood, and that perpetually arched brow mocking me.

"Sky." My name rolled off his tongue like honey, and I had to admit, I liked the sound of it. A lot.

"Don't take it personally," he continued, his voice soft, almost gentle.

I snorted. "Let's play then."

I bolted for the trees, the world blurring past me as I dashed through the underbrush. Pierce's laughter bubbled up, low and ominous, trailing behind me like a ghost.

And then he was everywhere and nowhere all at once.

One moment, he was in front of me; the next, he was a blur, a phantom, teasing the edges of my perception.

I dropped to my knees, pretending to stumble, and pivoted, nocking an arrow. I was certain he would be on me in a heartbeat.

I was right.