The Virgin Hunt Games, Volume 3
by Mel Teshco
Series: The Virgin Hunt Games, #3
Genre: Dystopian, Erotic Romance
Publisher: Entangled One Handed Reads
Release Date: March 15, 2021
EARTH, YEAR 2332
Life isn’t fair. Just ask Violet who mysteriously arrived in a space capsule at an orphanage as a baby. She has one goal—to find her biological parents, and winning the Virgin Hunt Games will ensure her face is plastered on every screener across the universe. Surely, her family will recognize and come for her? If she can only stay away from her Mate, the one man she must elude at all cost to win. But naturally, he’s also the only one she wants to surrender to.
Prince Zel Oscar is used to getting what he wants. But accepting a rival’s dare to be a Hunter in the infamous sexploitative Virgin Hunt Games was a terrible and possibly life-altering mistake. But then he meets his Hunted, Violet...delicious perfection wrapped up in a gorgeous package. Too bad she is totally indifferent to his kisses, his exploits, and his lofty title. He’ll do whatever it takes to break down her steely resistance...but will his subjects see him as a hero, or a total degenerate for having kinky sex in front of billions of viewers?
In the end he must make an impossible choice—keep her love, or his kingdom?
They walked down the corridor, past dumbbells and what looked to be a sit-up bench. He glanced at her, drinking in her gorgeous profile accentuated by her amazing hair. If he squinted he could even make out a sprinkling of freckles across her straight little nose.
“So…did you have any idea you were a defective?”
Her face tightened. “Is that really what you think I am?”
“Unless you’re a magician, then yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s what you are.”
She bit her full, bottom lip. “And how do you feel about that…possibility?”
He didn’t think it was a possibility. He was pretty damn certain she was a defective. But whatever; he’d play along. He smiled. “I’ve always been fascinated by defectives.”
“And that’s supposed to flatter me?”
“No. It’s supposed to let you know I’m not against you in any way. I don’t harbor any hatred or prejudice toward defectives. Quite the opposite.” He swung her another look. “But you didn’t answer my question.”
She sighed. “If you must know, then no, I had no idea. How could I, when I never got to know my own parents?” She grimaced and added, “They gave me up and allowed Earth parents to raise me.”
“I’m sorry. That must have been incredibly difficult for you, and for them. But I’m glad someone else got to love you.”
“Love?” She snorted and shook her head. “I wasn’t wanted. My biological parents got rid of me and my adopted parents never fully accepted me. I only hope my real parents are proud of giving me up. Because all I want right now is acceptance.” She wrinkled her nose. “Actually, no. I want more than acceptance. I want to know what it feels like to be venerated and admired. To be the person everyone else wants to be—including my color.”
His whole body tightened at her tidbit of information. “Wait. That’s why you’re here—to win the Games and be put on a pedestal? The winning pedestal?”
She crossed her arms in a defensive pose. “I’ve seen how much respect having money brings to a person. Winning the most-watched screener series in the universe will give me that and more.”
Okay, but…
Couldn’t she see all the flaws in her logic? For one, if money brought respect, then he was no longer the youngest son of royalty. Money brought a whole host of its own problems, including envy and hate. Being a royal hadn’t shielded him from that.
He cleared his throat. “Have you really thought this through?”
Her eyes flashed. “As a prince with loyal followers and undoubtedly overflowing coffers, I’m sure you wouldn’t understand my yearning for respect and admiration.”
The back of his shoulders went tight. “Maybe it’s best to appreciate what you already have. Maybe you won’t like that bright, shiny new life.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” She turned to him, the Mortranax forgotten in the heat of the moment. “I don’t expect a spoiled prince born with a fucking silver spoon in his mouth to understand much of anything about me or my needs at all.”
He twisted to face her, anger and desire rising in equal portions like a freak storm. Did she truly think him that shallow? Did she have any idea of the responsibility placed on a royal? Of the fucking expectations placed on him and his siblings’ shoulders? Would she even care? Doubtful. No one who didn’t live in his position ever understood. They all thought just because he was royal, his life was a bed of roses.
“So…did you have any idea you were a defective?”
Her face tightened. “Is that really what you think I am?”
“Unless you’re a magician, then yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s what you are.”
She bit her full, bottom lip. “And how do you feel about that…possibility?”
He didn’t think it was a possibility. He was pretty damn certain she was a defective. But whatever; he’d play along. He smiled. “I’ve always been fascinated by defectives.”
“And that’s supposed to flatter me?”
“No. It’s supposed to let you know I’m not against you in any way. I don’t harbor any hatred or prejudice toward defectives. Quite the opposite.” He swung her another look. “But you didn’t answer my question.”
She sighed. “If you must know, then no, I had no idea. How could I, when I never got to know my own parents?” She grimaced and added, “They gave me up and allowed Earth parents to raise me.”
“I’m sorry. That must have been incredibly difficult for you, and for them. But I’m glad someone else got to love you.”
“Love?” She snorted and shook her head. “I wasn’t wanted. My biological parents got rid of me and my adopted parents never fully accepted me. I only hope my real parents are proud of giving me up. Because all I want right now is acceptance.” She wrinkled her nose. “Actually, no. I want more than acceptance. I want to know what it feels like to be venerated and admired. To be the person everyone else wants to be—including my color.”
His whole body tightened at her tidbit of information. “Wait. That’s why you’re here—to win the Games and be put on a pedestal? The winning pedestal?”
She crossed her arms in a defensive pose. “I’ve seen how much respect having money brings to a person. Winning the most-watched screener series in the universe will give me that and more.”
Okay, but…
Couldn’t she see all the flaws in her logic? For one, if money brought respect, then he was no longer the youngest son of royalty. Money brought a whole host of its own problems, including envy and hate. Being a royal hadn’t shielded him from that.
He cleared his throat. “Have you really thought this through?”
Her eyes flashed. “As a prince with loyal followers and undoubtedly overflowing coffers, I’m sure you wouldn’t understand my yearning for respect and admiration.”
The back of his shoulders went tight. “Maybe it’s best to appreciate what you already have. Maybe you won’t like that bright, shiny new life.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” She turned to him, the Mortranax forgotten in the heat of the moment. “I don’t expect a spoiled prince born with a fucking silver spoon in his mouth to understand much of anything about me or my needs at all.”
He twisted to face her, anger and desire rising in equal portions like a freak storm. Did she truly think him that shallow? Did she have any idea of the responsibility placed on a royal? Of the fucking expectations placed on him and his siblings’ shoulders? Would she even care? Doubtful. No one who didn’t live in his position ever understood. They all thought just because he was royal, his life was a bed of roses.
Her gypsy-like upbringing saw her living in many places along Australia's east coast. Each new home stimulated an already over-active imagination, where she spent as much time dreaming about fantasy worlds as the real world - the fantasy sometimes being much better.
Now living on a beautiful rural property surrounded by mountains - her fat black horse, three cats and two dogs couldn't be happier. A proud mother of three gorgeous girls and two cheeky grandchildren, and married to Mr Patience (mostly), life is pretty damn good.
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