Primal Pursuit

I have lots of excuses that linger on the edges of my brain, but the main excuse is I need to keep the hook nice and baited because Davian’s the kind of man who could easily slip through my fingers. And if I let him get away, it’s going to be impossible to get near him.

I can’t let him be bored.

I pick up my drink and take a swallow, almost shuddering and spitting it out. It’s pretty much all whiskey and no Coke, but fuck it. I drink some more and think of the clue he sent me the other night. ‘Where does the white rabbit lead?’

I don’t know if he meant somewhere called white rabbit or if I was meant to find a white rabbit.

Was I the white rabbit? A symbol of youth, supposedly innocent and timid?

No, it was a clue of where to go. Alice’s rabbit. And fine, I might have looked it up. There’s a Rabbit Hole and a Looking Glass. One’s a biker bar and the other a piercing and tattoo parlor.

It doesn’t matter. I didn’t go.

And now he’s texting again.

I feel a little stronger than I did when I last saw him. More…prepared? This thing needs to end. I know it, but when I breathe in sometimes, it’s like the memory of being with him moves in and takes hold. My stomach dips and my pussy aches even though it shouldn’t.

My phone vibrates.

I think, little rabbit, you’ll like this new game. Maybe you can even the score.

Frowning, I take in a sharp breath and text him back, fingers moving almost on their own.

Why?

You’ll see.

You just want to fuck with me.

I want to fuck you and fuck with you.

But as I said, new game, new rules, and a chance for little rabbits to hop up the rung to even things with the bad wolf.

Or I can play elsewhere.

Rabbit has the ball.

Asshole.

Of all the threats he could hit me with, he chooses thatone—the one thing I don’t want to happen. Him playing elsewhere and me losing my chance at making him pay.

Figure out where I am, and maybe I’ll let you grab a feel.

I almost put grab in caps, but don’t.

If Davian fucking Stark can’t work it out, it will definitely rev that hot motor of his, and this win will be mine.

I tuck my phone in the pocket of my dress and down the drink, waving back to Will, who’s trying to get my attention. I leave my hair in my work ponytail and head out to dance, losing myself in the music while the alcohol sings in my veins. It’s times like these that I get a taste of what it’s like to feel free. Times when the world sinks away into the background, the atmosphere and music, the beat and the energy of those around you intoxicating you, making you believe all that matters is here. Now. This moment. Nothing else.

But in the back of my head there’s a tiny voice reminding me of what’s at stake, and that I didn’t bring any weapons because I didn’t think I’d see Davian. And I still might not.

Will spins off as someone comes up to grind behind me, his body hard and sweaty against mine. I happily dance a bit with the guy, and it’s when he starts to pull me in and slide me against his hard little dick, his hand trying to ride my thigh for a free trip to pussy town, that I turn and punch him in the face.

“Jesus. You bitch!”

I’m about to knee him in the balls when I’m plucked away—big, strong arms around me dragging me off the dance floor. Through the whiskey, through the music, I can feel him. I can sense him. It’s like my blood sings for him. A man. Not any man.

Davian.