Primal Pursuit - Page 174

My dead Aunt Sharon and Uncle Frank are people I hate, yet there’s not a drop of anything like love in me for them.

Only him. Love and hate.

Davian said he deliberately took my parents into the room because I was there. Did he? Is it true? Or is he being like this to push me into something? Manipulating me into a direction he wants me to go?

A small part of me wonders if it really matters.

Back then, he was the man who killed my parents. The monster. The one who ruined my life. But now…now he’s something different to me. A missing piece finally slotting into that big, gaping hole I’ve always carried.

I’m a mess. A horrifying mess. I don’t know what to do. What I need to do.

Instinct and emotions are all fighting. My gun’s pointed right at Davian. His gun’s pointed at my uncle. And I can’t breathe. I can’t. How can I?

I want Davian to pay for what he did. I want him to tell me he’s sorry, to show some form of remorse. But there’s this bigger part of me that wants him to stay…with me, and I hate myself for it.

No one can turn back time.

He pulled that trigger.

He might not have known me or my parents, and it was a job—just a job, but it was my life.

He took my life. He ruined it. Placed me on a different course. If it weren’t for him…

I stop the thought immediately.

Davian never made my uncle touch me.

Davian didn’t play that Everly Brothers song over and over and turn a blind eye to what was happening upstairs.

In a weird, fucked up way, that would only make sense to people like us, this man I love and hate and who I crave helped me see who I really am. What I really want. How to embrace this palpitating darkness inside me and unleash it in the most freeing, liberating, beautiful way.

He tattooed me, carved into me, and marked me as his. It’s wrong, and yet, even now, my heart squeezes hard for him, my pulse beats, and my pussy aches to be touched by him. I want him on his knees and begging for his life.

I want him on his knees and begging for my forgiveness.

Professing his love.

And after that, I want his blade against my skin, his tongue lapping at my blood like he’s tasting my soulbecause that’s who we are. That’s how fucked up and beautiful we are together.

I tighten my hand on the gun, sweat beading at the back of my neck. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Moment of fucking truth, Rabbit,” he says. “Of course, you can shoot us both. I’d start with him, though. Never, ever trust a coward, and your fucking scumbag uncle is a coward.”

“You said you took them into that room because you knew I was there.” My voice breaks.

Davian gazes at me dispassionately and Frank starts to move. “Don’t, Frank,” he warns. “Just because I’m not looking at you doesn’t mean I’m not aware. And out of the two of us, you want to die by her hand. Not mine. Poppy is nicer than me. I’ll make you suffer and wish you were dead weeks before I finally kill you.”

The acrid scent of ammonia hits the air.

Davian smiles menacingly. “By the smell of your fucking urine, dickwad, I’m betting you don’t drink enough water or eat a healthy diet. Still, that’s the least of your worries.”

I laugh a little. It’s high-pitched and slightly unstable, but I can’t help it.

“Davian,” I whisper. But his face says he isn’t going to help me. He’s putting his life in my hands.

I’m aware he can kill me. Take out my uncle and then me. Or me and then my uncle. But he isn’t going to do that.

No. The asshole is leaving it up to me.