Primal Pursuit

It’s all I need. I’m not quite sure what it all means, but it’s a potential fuck-up.

I turn and glance at Poppy as I get my gun. Her eyes are a shimmering blue, yet dark in their depths. She’s this petite little thing, but she’s dipped in a whole lot of lethal. And apparently, I have a palate for it.

With the gun in my hand, I turn, watch Mike’s eyes go wide with a mix of fear and relief.

I pull the trigger and shoot him point blank, his body convulsing for a second before it shuts down.

I let out a sigh. I’m fucking hard. And there’s a hot rabbit, just standing there for the taking. The only thing hotter than that is a hot rabbit running.

“I want,” I say, putting my gun down as I run a finger over the remaining weapons before picking up the hunting knife, “for you to run.”

She stiffens. “Where?”

I test the weight of the knife.

“Wherever the fuck you want. And, Rabbit?” I slide the knife into the belt of my pants and grab some nylon rope.

“Yes?”

I meet her eye. “This isn’t a game. No safe word. Nothing. So, I suggest you run. Really…run.”

For a moment she stands there, eyes big, pulsepounding in her throat. Her sweet nipples bead from behind her misbuttoned shirt. And then I think she reads the expression on my face, because rabbit gasps and runs.

There’s no count. Nothing.

I fucking give chase. Up the stairs and into that vast space of the empty ground floor.

The door’s open, but I don’t trust it. I don’t trust her.

I dig in my pants for the packet of cigarettes I bought after taking out the politician. Opening it, I pull one out and place it between my lips, then retrieve my lighter and flick it.

I breathe the smoke deep into my lungs, letting it fill me, keeping it there for a few beats, trying to calm the storm in my blood. Finally, I exhale and place the pack and the lighter on the banister leading to the second floor.

Outside, she’ll have more places to run and hide, but also expose her to the elements.

Upstairs, she could barricade herself, but it’s a fool’s errand. Upstairs, she traps herself.

What would I do if I happened to be a smart rabbit with a taste for blood?

Double fucking bluff.

I close my eyes and breathe in the air, but it doesn’t sing with the essence of her, doesn’t hold the crackle of awareness.

I slide through the door and into the hall of the converted warehouse. We own these buildings, and if anyone is in any of the lofts, they’re not going to pay attention or help her. These are places we use to play and kill, and to house, when needed.

Leaving the door ajar, I glance at the exit to theoutside, but that’s bolted from this side.

Rabbit fucked up.

It locks, yes, when a person leaves, but there’s an extra lock that requires a key from the outside and can be snipped in here. It’s snipped.

I take a drag on my cigarette, pull the knife, and head up the stairs, this time not bothering to hide the noise of my steps.

Fear is an aphrodisiac.

I find her on the third floor, trying to open a door. I bear down on her, and she tries to make a run for it, but I grab her hair and twist her around against me, knife slicing over her shirt, making short work of the buttons. But I cut her, too. My blade kissed her flesh, and my cock throbs painfully with a glorious ache at the thin red line that stains the shirt from between her tits down to her navel.

“Guess that’s another outfit I owe you.”