Primal Pursuit

Do I run? Do I fight? Or do I steel myself and let him play his game?

I know what excites him. I’ve learned of his specific tastes and thrills from various sources, but it’s nothing like being in his presence. It’s like there’s this dark, hypnotic light that radiates from him, demanding submission. If he wasn’t the man who ruined my life, I’d explore the feelings he sets off in me. I’d put myself in his hands, see if he’s everything the rumors make him out to be. A devil with an insatiable hunger for fear and blood.

Maybe entertaining this dance of seduction is the right thing to do. I need him to want me, have him come to me in a way that would let his guard down. He’s smart, and his lusts are both thought and flesh. Stay too long and he’ll lose interest. Go too fast and he’ll do the same. Not because I’m making it too hard. Because I’m being predictable. And there is nothing that bores Davian more than being predictable.

So, I need to let him take this to a point and leave in such a way he’ll want to come after me. I need a Cinderella shoe to drop for this fucked up murdering prince.

Gotta trust I’ll know it when I see it.

I’m breathing faster as he places the knife between his lips, blade in because he’s some kind of psychopath. He knows it, too. The glint of his eyes bites into me, trying toraise that same savage need for reckless lust within my veins.

Around the knife, he smiles, and it makes me light up and burn against my will.

The look that’s passing between us portrays what this truly is. A game. One I’m willing to play to the death, and I’m pretty sure he feels the same.

Abruptly, he moves and spins me from him by the material of my dress in a move so unexpected my breath leaves in a whoosh as adrenaline shoots in.

Davian unzips the dress, his knuckles lightly grazing the now-bare skin at my back, and it’s wild, bursting electric sparks where he touches. Everything in me is alive and snapping to attention.

Cold air cools the sudden fever as he pushes the fabric from me, then spins me back, his brow slanted inward as he stares at me with a self-satisfactory grin.

“Do you want an award?” I ask, unable to stop the shake to my voice.

I’m standing, almost naked, in this club while more and more Elites and their chosen start passing through the bar.

“Not particularly.” He leans in, brushing against me as he takes the knife from his mouth. I’m frozen to the spot as he skims his lips lightly across my cheek, leaving a trail of warm moisture as he breathes out, long and slow, in a path to my ear and then down my throat to my throbbing pulse.

He inhales deep, like he’s memorizing my scent, readying himself for the hunt.

I swallow hard. “What’s your next move?” I ask,lifting my chin, trying to forget that I’m standing naked in front of him in the middle of a fucking bar.

“To see how far I can push you before you run.”

“I won’t run.”

“Now, that’s a shame,” he says with a smirk. “Because I really love chasing.”

He leans his head to the side as he drags the knife’s point over my skin, from nipple to nipple, applying the slightest amount of pressure on each pebbled nub. “I dare you to run for me, Rabbit.”

“And give you what you want? Where’s the fun in that?”

He laughs lightly and continues the knife down, along my stomach that quivers, to stop right on my clit. My breath catches.

“You like forcing women, do you?”

“I’m not forcing you.” He traces the knife lightly back up to my stomach, pushing the tip a little harder against my flesh than before. But he’s not breaking skin, and he slides it back down to the top of my right thigh. I look down and focus on the damn rose inked on his hand, and it serves as a reminder of why I hate him so much. My heart is full of it, so my reaction to him right now can only be physiological and nothing more.

Davian turns the knife as he brings the flat edge up between my thighs, and light as a feather, he pushes it up so it’s against my slit. My body contracts then opens into an aching throb of unwanted sweetness that I can’t control, and it spreads at a wild pace.

He drags the flat side along my slit and up to my clit,before bringing the knife to his nose. He inhales then inspects the knife.

“Wet.” He smirks then runs his tongue along the blade. “Fucking sweet and tasty rabbit flesh,” he murmurs.

I clench my hand. “I’m not interested in you.”

“Oh, of course.” He grins. “Everyone’s here to get their holes fucked. Except you, right?”

I swallow because I can’t conjure any words, my legs are trembling, and this man—this fucking murderous man thinks I want him.