Primal Pursuit - Page 142

“Once I finish my initials, maybe I’ll carve ‘cunt’ into your forehead. Would you like that?”

She quivers. “You wouldn’t.”

She’s right. I wouldn’t. But she doesn’t have to know that. “Try me, Poppy. Just fucking try me.”

I finish the S, and then I wipe my finger through the blood and press on her clit.

She screams and convulses. Her entire body flushes as her orgasm rips through her in a violent wave. It’s a fucking thing of beauty, and she just might be my dream woman.

And yes, that includes her hard-on for killing me.

“You’re so good at sneaking them in, aren’t you, Rabbit?”

“Make hay while the sun shines,” she says, out of breath, and I smile at that.

Her head comes up as her orgasm ebbs away, and hate glitters in her gaze. Hate and something that looks like love, and a twisted, ugly demon made of revenge.

“Talk, Poppy Moore.”

“You want to know?”

“I believe I fucking said that.”

She licks her lips, and I can see how she steels herself. How she readies herself for the unveiling. “Poppy is what my mom used to call me. It’s the only part of myself I kept. But you might know me as Penelope Jane Parish.”

Adrenaline and excitement slither up my spine.

“And you…you murdered my parents.”

Chapter

Twenty-Eight

POPPY

I hatehim so much that I might love him. This monster. This murderer who just carved into my flesh, marked me in the most primal way as his, this man who killed my parents.

The wound throbs down into my pussy, and it aches with a dark need I don’t know how to begin to describe.

He just stares at me.

Davian doesn’t smile, doesn’t touch the wound or the blood, or the wetness from my arousal and orgasm that runs down my leg. I can feel it, and that ache inside increases.

I hurt, somewhere in my chest. My heart. And my throat’s tight, burning.

I thought…I thought this would be cathartic, a moment for the halls of time.

But it isn’t.

I’m just…tired.

He…he?—

“I know, Rabbit. I know who you are. I’ve known since the beginning.”

I study his eyes, his face, his expression. There’s no sign of bullshit. He’s telling the truth.

“Fuck…you,” I whisper. “Fuck you, Davian Stark.”