Primal Pursuit

I’m barely able to speak as I struggle to catch my breath. “Jacinta. Jacinta Harris.”

He drags his nose along the side of my neck, inhaling deep as he reaches my ear, his lips like velvet. “Liar.”

With his hand wrapped around my waist, he pivots me to look at him, and my heart freezes the second I meet that emerald green gaze. It’s luminescent in the vibrancy. And there’s a cold heat there in their depths. One that slips down to my toes and radiates through my body, stealing everything good.

Without a word, he grabs my elbow and starts dragging me across the marble floors and up the staircase. My feet are scarcely touching the ground at this speed. He leads me through a door to the right, down a long hall that’s barelytouched with light, his hand still holding my arm. His touch burns my flesh with every step, and I try my best to ignore the flurry of emotions causing me not to breathe right.

Finally, we step into a room—a bar area, light music is playing. One of the Elites and his chosen are in the corner booth, the woman leaning back on the table, her legs spread and wrapped around the man’s head as he eats her pussy.

The barman almost immediately walks up, handing Davian a drink of what looks likes bourbon.

I place a hand on my hip. “You know, calling your chosen a liar isn’t very nice.”

“What makes you think I’m choosing you?”

“Besides the fact that you just dragged me up here…you owe me.”

“I owe you?”

“After the whipping you just gave me, I’d say you owe me a great fucking time.”

His mouth ticks up a moment, and he brings his hand up to his face, smelling the fingers that were just inside me. The rose tattoo I remember is right fucking there. But now, there are a host more with it, and on the fronts of his hands. They should turn my stomach, but they add to the rough-edged elegance of him.

Monster.

Killer.

Prey.

“I made you come with my whip. I think it’s you who owe me, Rabbit.” His voice is low, layered, and when not about to kill, full of low burning fires.

“I told you, I didn’t come.”

“I’m afraid your pussy walls clamping around my fingers would disagree.”

“Even if I did, isn’t that the point of this entire charade?”

“Charade? Is that what this is?”

“What else would you call having girls offer themselves to you on a table, and you pretending to have a connection with them simply by licking their cunts when we all know it’s all about the smell?”

“The smell?”

I lean closer, glancing at the barman as I whisper. “No one likes a foul-smelling pussy.”

He laughs, his stare slicing through me like a live wire. “Who are you, Rabbit?”

I cross my arms. “Do you like breaking your own rules?”

“I don’t have rules.”

“Then why take part of something that’s riddled with them?”

“Tell me who you are.”

“I already told you.”

“You’re lying.”