Primal Pursuit

I want to search, but this man’s never bringing me somewhere I can gather dirt on him, and he’s right, I’m fall-down bone tired.

I drag my ass down the stairs and into the car.

It’s a gray, cloudy day, and people are heading to work when I get home. It’s no stride of pride or walk of shame. It’s more a slink of confusion and deadened emotions. I open the door, go up the stairs, and there’s my landlord.

Fuck. It’s the third. My rent’s overdue.

He comes up, and, judging by his belly, he’s had a hundred fast food meals too many with beer chasers. His shining pate with the strands plastered on the top is so cliché I almost laugh, but he’s eyeing my legs and shoes, then up to my face, and he starts a lascivious smile.

“You’re late, Poppy. But if you don’t have the cash, we can come to an arrangement.” He reaches out and traces a hand along the buttons of my coat. I slap the fuck out of his hand.

“That’s harassment.”

He grabs for me again. “Don’t?—”

“Get your fucking hands off me, please. It’s been a rough couple of days.” I eye him until he steps back. “Wait here.”

I unlock my door and shut it in his face. The rent money envelope is in the drawer by the door.

I open it and hand him the cash.

“If it’s a problem to pay rent, we can make arrangements.”

“No problems. I forgot to drop by your office. Please check it.”

He does. “All there.” He slides his gaze down my front. “I can come back with a receipt.”

“Just put it under the door.”

I step back inside. And this time, when I close it, I lock it. Tight.

Stripping off, I just climb into bed naked and pull up the covers. My landlord’s an asshole, but one I only see once a month. He lives in the suburbs and has a few slumlord-type buildings like this.

The less he’s seen here, the fewer complaints he has to hear.

I push him from my mind.

Shoving Davian from my thoughts isn’t so easy. I keep drifting off, and Davian is there, going nowhere from my subconscious.

I slowly pass out to fantasies that melt in and out of each other.

Fantasies of fucking him.

Fantasies of slitting his throat.

As the darkness takes me, I’m not really sure which one follows me into my dreams.

Chapter

Sixteen

DAVIAN

“You set?”

“Yeah, fucking ready to roll at the word.” I lean back on the bench, idly watching Tobias fuck a tied-up, caged girl, her pussy and ass scented and dripping with lube, pressed against the cage, while the good priest holds the bars and fucks her ass.

I don’t know what happened today, and I don’t ask, but he’s taking his aggression out on his latest fuck toy.