Primal Pursuit

What happened to five?

Five passed you by. You’ll never make it here by one.

Rule number one, rabbit, always get the rules. Saves you grief.

Then again, I think you like grief, don’t you?

We’re gonna go through the looking glass.

Not fair.

I quickly rush out and down the stairs to my car. Fucker has that Toyota watching me again, and it takes off as I look at it.

All’s fair in fucked up sex games, darling rabbit.

Growling, I send one more text.

You find me, and we’ll see about evening out the playing field.

It’s on. In more waysthan one.

I park in a lot not far from my destination, and then walk. The blade’s now in the pocket of my coat, and I’m trying to fight the excited surge of lust with my anger and pain of old loss. It keeps getting swallowed into the swirling quicksand that Davian magically concocts.

The park is dark, quiet. It’s a stupid, dangerous thing I’m doing, but I tell myself edging on the side of danger is worth it if it gives me an opportunity to kill this motherfucker.

But you want to ride him again first.

The thought is sticky, unwelcome. True.

Every nerve ending flares as the air around me suddenly becomes charged.

Davian’s hand coils lightly about my throat. And that rum-soaked, tobacco-infused honeyed rose of him—masculine, dangerous, seductive, and way too inviting—invades my blood as I breathe in.

It’s like he reaches down to my soul with his touch, scent, and body heat.

“Playing field, Rabbit? I’ve been gone a handful of days and you’ve gotten sloppy, something we need to fix.”

“Maybe it’s a trap.”

“I doubt it. Come on, Rabbit. What do you have for me? I know you didn’t plan on a dark and empty park so we can hold hands and whisper sweet nothings.”

“The park was your idea, not mine.”

“True.”

My fingers tighten on the switchblade as he strokes his thumb under my chin.

“Where were you?” I ask.

“Where do you think, Rabbit? You know what I do for a living.”

“I think you’re a murdering bastard.”

“Interesting.” He releases my throat and turns me to face him. “Why would you say that?”

It’s almost like a soft dare that stains the air, like he wants me to tell him what I know. I’m not about to do that. Not until he’s chained up.

“You’re in bed with the Dark Sovereign.”