Amelia spent the rest of the day preoccupied with the fact that her very existence was reason enough to be hunted. She wasn't accustomed to being pursued, to being wanted in any capacity. Now, she had three boyfriends and was being hunted through the wilderness.

What did it feel like to be a prize? Some sort of sick, twisted war trophy, a woman-owned rather than loved. Her value came from what she was, rather than who she was, at least to the rogues. Was this part of the ...