Chapter 40

Renzo

The enforcer leaves laterthat morning, setting off on foot. My little rabbit goes to see him off at the door, accompanied by the professor and the smart girl with the pigtails. I remain in the kitchen, watching over the pig as I spin my knife around by its point on the tabletop.

The thoughts buzz around noisily in my head, and, for the first time, among those thoughts are my future spread out like a path in front of me. Never seen that before, never thought about it. It's always been one day at a time. Intrigued to see if I'd make it to the end or if that would be the day it all ends. Like a game. Like tossing a coin. Not caring how it lands.

Now, there are possibilities.

She said sealing the bond would be forever and forever sounds like a long, long time. All the way in the distance where I'm an old man with a walking stick and a fucking bad temper.

Huh! Me? Old? They always said I wouldn't make it past my 21st birthday. They said all sorts of shit.

Did I believe more of it than I realized?

The little rabbit walks into the kitchen – her eyelashes all wet, tear tracks run down her face – followed right after by the smart girl. They both stop by the pig and peer down at him. Then the smart girl scoops him up.

"I'm worried he's cold," and then she scurries away with the pig.

I take my opportunity and catch my little rabbit around the waist, pulling her onto my lap. She doesn't scuttle away, she leans against my body, resting her head against my shoulder.

I strain my fucked-up brain to come up with something nice to say. Because me and her, I want us to grow old together. Surrounded by litters of piglets. I like that idea.

For once my mind is empty, devoid of anything she'll consider nice. The only thoughts rattling around now are dirty, really fucking dirty.

I shake my head, trying to knock an idea free.

"I've seen the enforcer kill five men at once," I tell her. Because she's sad – I think she's sad. Sad about him leaving.

"What?" she says, sniffing.

"He fights well."

"I suppose," she says. She shifts her head backwards and looks up at me. Those crinkles all over her forehead.

"He can look after himself."

"Oh," she says, the crinkles melting away, "he can. But there's only one of him. I think it's safer when we're together. I don't like it when we're apart."

"You believe all that stuff about the five mates?"

She rubs at the wetness on her face. "Do you?"

"Five mates – six of us altogether. Six has always been the most powerful number in magic."

"Who taught you that?"

"No one," I say with a chuckle. "It's just something I know, like how I know breathing will keep me alive," I bite at her ear, "or stuffing you full of my cock is going to make you feel real good."

"Behaving, remember?" she says, although she's perching right over my cock – a cock that's now hard – so what the hell does she expect.

I flip my head back and growl at the ceiling. "Behaving is hard, little rabbit. You're asking too much of me. You can't expect me to be nice to those jerks and keep my fucking hands off you. It has to be one or the other."

"It doesn't."

I shake my head. "Compromise?" I say a word I've never used in my life before. "You can put your hands on me." I take her hands in mine and rest them on my cock. "And we don't have to go all the way."

"I don't trust you," she says.

"You don't?"

"You say one thing, do another."

Maybe she has a point, my cock is jerking eagerly against her hands. If it came to it, can I trust myself? Could I stop myself? It's not something I've ever had to consider before. I take whatever I want.

"You have a point," I say. Removing my hands, although encouragingly, hers stay right there.

I pick up the knife from the table and she stares at it, glinting under the kitchen light. I swivel it in my hand and offer her the handle, the blade that's made a hole in the tabletop, directed straight at my throat.

"Like before, little rabbit? You want me to stop, you have the knife to stop me."

She stares into my eyes unblinking. Then takes the knife in her hand, weighing it in her palm.

And fuck, doesn't that look good, my little rabbit with a deadly weapon in her hand?

"I missed this knife," she whispers, and her magic hisses in the air, a spark of that darker magic there too. Her eyes darken as she stares at the blade, her magic tingling against my skin.

She stands, knife hovering in front of me and then lowers herself back down on my lap, straddling me this time.

"You'd really let me do that?" she says.

"I'd let you do anything you wanted to me," I say, my voice dangerous.

"Even this," she says, and, not breaking our eye contact, she leans forward, bringing the knife closer and closer and pressing the point into my neck, the blade slicing against the point where my pulse thuds. I don't even flinch.

"You like that, little one?" I whisper, sliding my tongue along my bottom lip and tasting her magic as it sizzles.

She nods her head and then she grinds her hips against me, like she's riding me, except, there are two layers of fucking clothing between us.

And a knife.

I lift my hands to reach for her waist, but she presses the knife deeper into my throat, the pinch of the blade delicious.

"No," she says, "keep your hands by your sides."

I swallow.

The knife stings. Her core grinds against me, fondling my cock.

Pleasure and pain. Pain and pleasure. The two are forever intertwined.

She works harder. Up and down my cock. The friction doing something to her too. Her brow's all damp. Her breath panty. Her skin flushed.

I keep completely still. Let her have her control.

Moans bubble in her throat, and she moves faster. Wilder. Grinding her pussy against me.

"Oh fuck," she groans.

My fingers twitch.

I want to pick her up, throw her on the table, and bury myself between her legs.

As if reading my twisted mind, she leans forward, her forehead pressed to mine, the knife shaking at my throat.

"No," she tells me.

"Let me touch you, little rabbit. Let me taste you. Just one little bite." I snap my teeth together and the little thing comes, jolting around on my lap like I just electrocuted her. (Only without the aroma of burned flesh and the accompanying death gurgle.)

The knife slips under my skin, pain radiates through my veins. I close my eyes and groan.

Nothing ever felt so good.

Her hand rests on my shoulder.

"I cut you!" she pants.

"You did, little rabbit," my lips curl upwards, "you did. I like it when you're bad."

Then I feel something wet against my skin. I open my eyes. The little rabbit has caught the droplet of blood racing down my neck with her tongue. Holding my gaze, she scoops it up and trails her tongue back up to where the knife sliced me. Then she sucks at the wound. I grunt, grinding at her from below.

"Think you could suck that next, little rabbit."

And to my fucking delight, she slides off the chair and kneels between my thighs.

For all her words, her actions speak louder. Roar into the silence. She can't keep her hands off me. She wants me. It's only a matter of time before she has me.

With the knife still gripped in her right hand, she frees my cock with her left and then she takes the head of me into her mouth, her lips crimson with blood like the hint of that magic pulsing in the air.

This little rabbit has a dark side. One that wants to come play. One that wants to come play with me.

She sucks on my cock like something possessed. And I was wrong. A knife in my little rabbit's hand isn't the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. My little rabbit with a knife in her hand and my cock in her mouth is.

Someone should fucking paint this. Hang it in some gallery.

She swirls her tongue around my cockhead, and then takes me further into her mouth, sucking up and down my shaft, until my legs are shaking and I'm vibrating on the fucking chair, my nails deep in the wood.

I lift my hips, thrust inside her sweet mouth, and she pulls away, my cock leaving her mouth with a pop that reminds me of bubblegum.

"Deep throat me, Renzo," she growls, waving the knife dangerously close to my cock, "and I will castrate you."

"But little rabbit," I whine, because I want to stuff my cock right down her throat and have her choking on it.

"I mean it."

She rests the blade against my thigh.

"All right," I say. "All right."

I like pain. I also like my cock. And my balls. My thigh? She can fuck that up as much as she likes.

She keeps the knife resting where it is and takes my cock back inside her mouth, continuing right where she left off, only now she sucks me harder, the sounds she's making delicious and dirty.

Pleasure radiates around my body, more pleasure than I've ever experienced before. But it's not the same without the pain.

"Cut me, little rabbit." Her eyes leap up to mine and for a moment she does nothing. Then she presses the blade into my flesh and I come, grunting as loud as I can so that the fucking professor can hear wherever the fuck he is.

My little rabbit swallows all my spunk down her throat, and when she's done, she rocks back on her heels and licks her lips.

"Satisfied?" she asks.

I lean forward on my seat, taking the knife from her hand, and wiping the blood from the blade with my finger, pressing my finger between her lips in the next moment. She licks away the crimson liquid.

"Yeah," I say, eyes all over her, fascinated by this girl.

But I'm lying. She's right not to trust me.

I won't be satisfied until I'm bound to her for eternity.

Dramatic? I always have been. It's my greatest asset.