Chapter 13

T he queen of darkness lets me put on my pants. How nice of her. Maybe she's done torturing my cock and balls. I sit with my pants unzipped and unbuttoned, the fabric spread to expose the fine, dark hairs.

Speaking of the queen of darkness, where is she? She left pretty soon after my hand was inside her. I bring that hand up to my nose and smell the remnants of her sweet cunt on my fingers.

Who knew karma would smell so sinful?

I stare at the clock. It's pushing seven a.m. It's too late to get to the party now. Fuck me. She might as well kill me at this point. They'll do it if she doesn't, and I'd rather it happens at her fucked-up, pretty little hands.

I hear noises outside the closed door. Harsh whispers rise to a discernable sound, and I realize it's her voice saying, " Absolutely not. You can't do that."

What can't he do?

And then I hear a smack.

She shrieks, and I lean against the chain.

Here's the thing, I don't think I deserve much of anything in the world, but I could deserve her. If nothing else, I can treat her better than her current choice of man. Even with a couple holes in my nut sack, I still never thought to hit her, though she probably fucking deserved it in that moment.

The door whips open and her boyfriend carries a box into the room. What now? What new torture device has she come up with for me? Not that it matters. I'd probably give up the Exodus at this point because I'm going to die anyway.

But I won't give any information to him . Only her.

Karma skulks out from behind him, her hand on her right cheek. She drops it and raises her chin stoically, despite the red flush of his handprint on her face. I don't need his name on a list to want to kill him.

"Who do you work for?" his deep voice asks as he sets the box on the ground.

"Fuck. Off," I say.

"I thought you'd say that." He lifts the lid off the box, and two big black ears rise over the cardboard edge.

He didn't.

"When I found out you had a son, I thought he'd be a great bargaining chip. But then I found this."

He picks up Petey, and the rabbit takes a gnarly chunk out of his hand. He bites everyone but me.

"Fucker," Sam hisses as he throws my rabbit back into the box. He shoves the lid in place and turns his rabid eyes toward me as he draws a knife from his belt. He holds the blade down, twisting the sharp tip on the box lid. "Who do you fucking work for?" Blood drips from the wound in his hand and rolls down the knife handle.

He wouldn't.

"Don't!" the girl says, eyes wide.

She rushes toward the box to pull it out from under his blade, but he grips her arm to stop her. He puts the knife between his teeth and punches her in the face. Her body slides across the floor and lands with a bang against the dresser. The lamp leaps from the table and shatters at her feet.

I crawl to the very end of my chain and lean toward her.

Not my karma.

Before I can turn back toward the walking-talking piece of flaming-hot shit, I hear the sound of the blade slicing through cardboard. I close my eyes, almost too afraid to look, but I force myself. I turn and see the handle, so I reach for it, straining to catch a corner of the cardboard.

Not my fucking rabbit.

"You fucker!" I yell, straining against the metal holding me back. This is worse than everything else they've done to me. None of that mattered. What matters is that rabbit and that girl.

I hear a squeal as the metal pole strains against my weight and rage. Say what you will about the Exodus, but they made me into this feral animal on a chain. The sheer strength and willpower they forced out of me strains the metal's integrity until it gives, breaking off from the base and throwing me forward onto my hands and knees.

My eyes focus on him. I swing the pole and catch it, pulling my hand free. I draw my arm back and bring the pole across me like a bat, connecting the stout metal with his head. He flies to the side and lands on the ground.

"That's for her," I grit out, and she screams.

Why does she scream? I don't fucking know. Is she upset with what I've done, or is she now seeing me as a personification of her childhood nightmares? Am I the monster that just crawled out of her closet?

I take a moment to help her to her feet, and she just stares at me like she isn't sure if she needs to defend herself against me too. She doesn't. I won't harm her. Instead, I walk to her shit-stain boyfriend lying on the ground. He looks up at me, begging me, I think, but I hear only the hammering of my heartbeat in my ears. I stab the hollow end of the pole through his abdomen, sinking it deep enough to hit the floor on the other side.

"And that's for my rabbit!"

Blood rises and spurts out of his mouth, blending with the crimson coating his face. His head is split open, a shiny glimpse of his white skull showing beneath his blood-soaked hair. If that wasn't going to kill him, the stabbing sure will.

I turn my attention to the box. I don't hear any sound coming from it, no claws on cardboard or gentle snuffles. It's a silent, ominous rectangle sitting in front of me on the floor. I almost can't bring myself to check. If I open it up and see that my baby is dead, I don't think I can leave this house standing. I will burn us all down inside it.

I would burn the world down for that fucking rabbit.

I drop to my knees and lean over the box. I say a prayer to anyone who will listen. If it's the devil, so be it. I'll owe him one if Petey's okay. I'll do his fucking dirty work for him if it means I can hug my boy again.

With shaking hands, I lift the lid away, and my eyes immediately go to the knife blade. Blood covers the metal. My heart sinks as all my training and conditioning goes out the window. But then I see those two big ears twitch toward me, and my heart beats again.

"Petey!" I say, lifting him from the box.

There's a wet spot on his fur, and as my fingers wipe through it, I realize it's blood. I set him in my lap and spread the dense fur, but I see no injury. He wasn't hit. All the blood must have been from that piece of shit's bite wound—which he fucking deserved.

"You're crying," the girl says as she drops in front of me and hands my shirt to me.

I wipe the rogue tears from my cheeks. "I'm not crying. It's just a rabbit."

That crazy conditioning rears up and reminds me to be tough. Be hard. Be cold.

"It's not just a rabbit." Her eyes rise to mine. "He's your son."

I look down at his big, dark eyes. The whites have receded, and the fear leaves him as if it never happened. I wish things worked the same for me.

He wants off my lap, feeling the urge to go explore the room as he would in our own home, but there are nails and shit somewhere, so I don't let him. The room needs to be rabbit proofed before I'll let him wander around. I stick him back in the box, rip the knife from the lid, and set the lid back on top.

I stand up, and she mirrors my movements. She reaches out and grabs my arm. I pivot, pushing her against the wall as my hand rises to her throat, the chain still dangling from my other arm.

"Tell me your name, karma."

Her wide eyes go white with fear. She swallows, and her throat moves beneath my hand.

"Allister," she whispers over my grip. "Why did you kill him for me? After what I've done to you?"

I push the hair away from her face and brush her cheek, then continue downward until I reach her mouth. I ease my fingers past her lips. "Remember what I said? The moment I got off this chain, I said I'd be inside you. I don't make promises I can't keep."

My knee juts between her legs and spreads her thighs. The hard head of my cock peeks from beneath the black fabric, still unzipped and unbuttoned. I pull it downward, freeing it. Fuck the pain in my balls. Nothing can keep me from her now.

I tug her panties aside and lift her thigh. I lean in and kiss her, hard and fast, like I need her lips to survive the next hour. The next minute. Maybe the next second. I devour her chest as I nip at her flesh. I would have fucked her whether her boyfriend was dead or alive, but she seems to only be welcoming my touch with his dead body beside us.

Then the warm sting of metal presses against my throat.

I release her, and a devilish smirk crosses her face. Clearly, she hasn't forgiven me like I'd hoped. I should be the one who needs to be coerced to forgive her ! She's the one who nailed my balls to the floor.

I lift my hands, and she backs me up until I tumble onto the bed. Scratchy cotton sheets nip at my bare back. She climbs over me, the knife still at my throat. Any normal person would look for ways to unarm their assailant, but I just keep my eyes on hers as she threatens to kill me.

She raises her skirt and cuts off her panties. That was my moment to escape, with the blade so far from my neck, but not even the imminent threat of death could take me from the promise buried within that motion. She puts the steel back to my throat, and I throb at the heat of her over me. On me. Soaking me.

"Tell me who you work for," she says, putting weight into the blade.

"After I fuck you."

I draw my hips back, tracing her slit until I know I'm right against her entrance. I push my hips upward, and her pussy envelops me. She wraps around me so fucking tightly that I release a raspy groan. It's as if all her hatred for me is squeezing and strangling my dick.

There's a flicker of pleasure on her face before she becomes as steely as the blade at my neck.

"I should kill you," she says, moving herself on my lap. She rises and comes down on me, using me and selfishly rocking her hips. My piercings disappear inside her.

"Cut my throat, karma. Bathe yourself in my blood as you fuck yourself with my cock."

Did I just say that? Absolutely. Did I mean it? Without a doubt.

She leans back, taking the knife from my throat and putting it between her legs, right against my hard flesh.

"What if I sever your dick while it's still inside me?"

"You're crazy, but you're not dumb, baby. You want the blood right where it is, filling my cock so I can keep you stuffed."

"Don't call me crazy," she says, still moving on my lap. She cuts into me, and I bite my lip to keep from screaming out. Warm blood trickles down and nestles in the pool of my pelvis.

Why does this girl insist on mutilating my genitals? And why doesn't it make my dick recede into my body in fear for its life?

I guess we're both a little crazy.

Allister eases down my length, putting pressure on the cut with the walls of her pussy. She uses my blood as lubricant, and no amount of pain could keep me from enjoying that sight. Each downward movement gathers more and more scarlet liquid until she's covered in it.

I roll her onto her back. Judging by the way she grits her teeth, she hates losing the control, and being beneath me is clearly beneath her.

"Listen to me," I say. "Hate me all you want, but don't let that keep you from coming on my dick. You don't have to like me to get the release you so desperately need."

"Fuck you!" she screams, and the tone wrestles with pleasure as I pin her arms above her head. The knife remains in her clenched fist.

My dick hurts. My balls ache. And yet I hammer her the way I know that fucker never has. A woman like her doesn't go feral if she's getting dicked-down the way she needs. It's also easy to forget the pain when she moans.

"Play with yourself," I say, releasing one of her hands.

She reaches over and grabs the knife, and I think this is it, that she's going to cut my throat and bathe in my blood, but she brings the blade to her mouth and runs her tongue up the shining edge. She clasps it between her teeth before dropping her hand to rub herself. She's so wet and bloody.

Who knew karma could be so unhinged?

She tightens on me as she rubs quick circles around her clit. Her lips spread, and she whimpers, exposing red-tinged teeth still clamped on the knife. It almost feels like a test. As if she's wondering if I'll take the opportunity to turn the tables and put that blade against her pretty throat.

She comes around me, her back arching beautifully as her chest lifts into mine. I grab the knife from her, wrapping my hand around the handle as I tug it from her mouth. The look of fear momentarily blips across her face, but she relaxes as I run the blade across her breasts.

Then I look karma dead in the eyes as I fuck and fill her.

I stay in her for a moment, savoring the feeling of her before I pull out. We're a bloody mess, and yet I drag the blade down her body until it lands between her legs. I stuff the handle inside her, and red-tinged come rises up as I fuck her with it until she's screaming.

"Knox," she says on the next moan.

I bury my face between her legs. The tip of the knife rakes against my shoulder as I devour her bloody, come-coated clit. The salty, metallic taste assaults my tongue, but I can think of nothing more I want to fill my belly with. I eat her while thrusting the knife in and out of her until she's dripping all the remnants of our pleasure onto the floor.

My tongue curls around her clit before flicking and sucking on her. Her moans rise and intensify, growing with every thrust of the knife and lash of my tongue.

"Come again, karma. Coat my chin, and I'll tell you everything you want to know."