Primal Pursuit

“My little rabbit’s been digging.” His eyes glitter, and even in the dark they’re mesmerizing.

“So,” I say, pulling my hand with the knife from my pocket. His gaze doesn’t shift from my face. “Where were you?”

“Here, and in Canada. Being a murderous bastard.”

A small jolt runs through me. I don’t think he’s joking. At all.

He holds his hands out, palms up, the cuts on them just lines now. “What’s your little game to try to even the playing field?”

Adrenaline shoots like acid into my blood, and I rear to life, dropping my bag and coat, flicking open the blade. I hiss as I slash at him, catching his vest, because the asshole’s rocking it like a fashion god in a hot three-piece suit.

“Motherfucker,” he grits out. “This is Armani, Poppy.”

I grin as he veers back. “I’m going to gut you.”

“Oh, you think?”

I slash again, catching his suit jacket. He laughs as he spins, suddenly slipping out of it and catching it around my wrist.

“Fuck you, Davian.”

“I would, but you just might fucking knife me, Rabbit.”

I step in and try to knee him hard, but he blocks me by turning, and I get the side of his thigh. It’s a nick, but enough to get free, and I dance back.

He’s grinning at me, thrill dancing across his too-beautiful face. “Whoo, baby. Now this, Rabbit, this is what I mean. Unexpected claws.”

“Not claws, a fucking knife.”

My blade rips in with two swift strokes, the second slashing through fabric and grazing his skin.

“Fuck, Rabbit. That’s half a point. But next time—” He snatches my wrist and squeezes hard enough I flex open my hand, and he grabs the knife. “Next time, put the force of your body behind it. Follow through like the knife is your hand and you intend to slice bone.”

“I want to.”

He pulls me in, and I come down hard on his foot with my heel.

This time I cause him pain, and he lets me go, allowing me to grab the knife from him.

He grins. “You have to let it excite you, Rabbit. You need to be turned on by it.”

He comes at me again and tackles me to the ground, and I slice his shoulder. He grits out a laugh then flips me over, pinning my wrists above my head with one hand. “That’s my girl.”

We stare at each other. He’s on top, pressed on me, his erection too big and hard to be missed, and I’m…oh, God.I’m wet. The touch of his body, his cock rubbing againstme because he’s moving his hips, is so overwhelmingly hot that a moan slips out, and I only remember at the last second I have the knife.

I try to bring it up, but he flips us and grabs it.

Now I’m straddling him, and the blade is pressed to my throat, my heart hammering against my chest.

“You are an excited little rabbit, aren’t you?” He moves the knife to trace the line of my throat and presses the blade’s point at my jugular. “Gets you hot, doesn’t it? I’ll give you a full point.”

Fury whips through me, and I smack the knife, nicking my skin.

“Careful, Rabbit. Cutting that flawless skin of yours is my job.”

“God, I hate you.”

I put my hands around his throat and start to squeeze. All sense has left me. The heat and pulse of life in him infuriates me. So does how turned on I am, how much I want him inside me. How much I want him dead.