Chapter 12

Renzo

It'sdark by the time she comes around and we're deep in the heart of the forest, south of her home. The ground is hard and cold, the first breath of winter whispering in the night's air. A fire crackles in front of her, the orange of the flames flickering over her face, keeping her warm.

I blow into my stiff fingers, watch as her eyelids slowly flicker open, excitement jumping in my veins. She's more fun awake than asleep.

This time when she regains consciousness, it's not like before. This time realization hits her brain almost immediately, and she snaps up, my leather jacket sliding off her shoulders.

"You fucker, you knocked me out!" Her brows pull low and wrinkling her forehead.

"You weren't cooperating," I tell her, rubbing my fingers together.

"And that's how you operate, huh? Every time someone disagrees with you, you knock them out."

"Nope," I say, flicking dirt from under my fingernail. "I kill them."

She jolts, then sits up straighter.

"So I'm lucky? Every time we don't agree on something, you'll simply render me unconscious so you can get your own way?"

I shrug. Seems as good a plan to me as any other. But one I'm gathering she doesn't like.

She throws my jacket down to the ground in irritation and peers around into the darkness.

"Where are we and where's Pip?"

I point to my lap where her little pig is resting his head.

"Pip!" she snaps. The pig's head jerks upward. "You can't be serious?"

"He agrees with me. He doesn't think it's safe to return to Los Magicos."

"He's a pig," she says, her bottom lip protruding slightly, begging me to come bite it. "And not a very smart one at that."

"Huh," I say, rubbing my knuckles against the little man's head. "I might be wrong but I'm not sure that's a very nice thing to say."

She gapes at me, her mouth now hanging open. "You tried to kill me. Do you think that was very nice?"

"You tried to kill me back."

"I was defending myself!" She rolls up onto her knees and jabs her finger my way. Is this foreplay? Because it's turning me on. "Plus, you also just knocked me out without my permission. Do you think that was nice?"

I scratch my cheek and make a wild guess. "Err, no?"

"No, it was a complete dickhead move to make."

"There are people out hunting for you. I don't want them to hurt you," I tell her for like the twentieth time. My little rabbit is smart. Smarter even than the pig. I don't understand why she doesn't get this.

"You think there are people hunting me. You don't know that for sure."

I huff, pick up one of the sticks I gathered for the fire and toss it into the flames, watching as they curl around the wood, engulfing and smothering it completely.

"Little rabbit," I say, deciding it might be time for some truths, "I don't think I've been the only one looking for you."

She eyes me, fiddling with the zipper on my jacket that now lies by her feet. "You haven't," she agrees.

I push the pig from my lap. Hot fire licks through my body.

"Who else?" I ask. "Who else has been looking for you?" How close did they get? Did they lay hands on her? Did they hurt her?

Her hands stroke the leather of my jacket in a way that makes me fucking shiver.

"The chancellor."

"The chancellor?" I say, sitting back. That wasn't what I was expecting. The thoughts crash together in my head and then my eyes flick back to hers.

"Because you were an unregistered."

"Because of my mom."

"Ahhh," I say. "Your mom."

I guess I say it in a way that piques her interest, because she shuffles forward on her knees, closer to the fire, closer to me. The light from the flames dances across her skin, turning it golden.

"Why did you say it like that? Do you know something about my mom?"

I could tease this out, dangle this in front of my little rabbit and make her leap and jump and stretch for it, struggling to clasp it between her paws. I like teasing. I like torturing. I like making people suffer. It's so … entertaining.

But with her, it's different. With her, every fucking thing is different.

As much as the scowl and the hissy eyes are a turn on, I want her to be pleased with me. I want her praise, her thanks, her adoration. Mostly I want her. Want her close like she was in the bed, her warm body lying flush against mine, and I suspect I'm only going to get that in two ways. By force or by pleasing her. Force would be my normal preferred choice of action, obviously. But she's strong, stronger than she was, and there's a chance I might not be successful.

Then there's this strange desire – one I've never felt before – the desire to have her touch me back. And I don't just mean her mouth around my cock. I mean, really touch me.

And so I'm straight with her.

"I told you I'd find out about your mom and I did."

"Wh-why?" she says, lifting her hand to stroke her pig as he comes sidling up to her.

Why? That wasn't the response I was expecting. Then again when is the response ever the one I was expecting? People are fucking complicated.

"I like helping you. I like caring for you." I want you to want to do those things for me.

The wrinkle reappears between her brows.

"Why?" she repeats, this time her voice a whisper, her body very still – a frozen, frightened rabbit. What is she frightened of? The truth?

Yeah, I'm guessing I'm not anyone's first choice for a fated mate.

"You're smart, little rabbit, and I think you know why."

She stares into my eyes and it makes my heart pound. Bang bang bang.

But she doesn't answer me. She's not ready to admit it. That's fine. The thing about being an assassin is you have to be patient. You have to wait for the right moment to strike and kill. I don't have much patience for most things. But the important things. The things that make my heart pound like that – yeah, I can be endlessly patient for those.

"What did you find out about my mom?" she asks me instead.

I shake my head and pull out her knife – his knife – from my pocket, laying it flat on my palm and watching the flames flicker across the blade this time.

"It wasn't your mom I found out about, little rabbit. It was your dad."