Maisie
"The Annual Hunt," I repeated, wiping the sweat off my brow. "What the hell is that?"
I was running the treadmill on my side of the gym and had spent the last hour pretending not to stare at Jericho's perfect pecs, or Quinlan's back side as he grappled with Mercer.
They were all half-naked. I thought they were doing it on purpose. I'd been so distracted when I walked in that I walked right into the wall.
So much for the stupid line of demarcation. I should have asked for a wall instead.
"Much like the Red Moon," Mercer explained, running his fingers through his damp red hair. That was also mildly distracting. I thought of my fingers in those soft tresses as he hooked my legs over his shoulders and it was an effort to keep a straight, disinterested face. "It's another archaic one of our traditions. Similar to your wolf hunts where you run together as a pack to hunt game. Only, we don't hunt for game."
