Page 48 of Primal

“And yet you still love me, no?”

She opens her mouth to protest, but nothing comes out. I know she loves me; she just needed space to figure things out, and I was glad to give it to her, but now that I’m back, I’m not fucking going anywhere.

I step closer to her until she’s pressed against the wall. My fingertips dig into the wall on either side of her head, bracketing her in. Much like our first night together, she puts her hands on my chest to push me away, but the effort is weak.

Pressing my nose to the side of her throat, I inhale her delicious scent. Her head falls back against the wall, giving me better access to do what I really want.

I open my mouth and clamp down on the delicate flesh of her neck with my teeth. Kiara cries out from the pain, but grips my shirt to pull me closer. Her breath hitches when I lick over the bite mark I just made.

When John groans again, I look at Kiara and ask, “So, what do you want me to do with him, baby?”

I could let him go, or I could let Kiara call the police, but my blood is thrumming with the thrill of a kill in my veins, and all I want is to dig my knife into his stomach and twist it until the life seeps out of him.

“I’m not watching,” Kiara says, turning around and covering her face with her hands.

“I wouldn’t want you to, anyway,” I assure her as I take my knife out of my boot and straddle John with my knees on his arms so he can’t try to hit me. When his eyes are finally able to focus on me, his face twists in anger.

“Who the hell are you?” he spits. “Get off me!”

I don’t say anything as I press the tip of the knife to the pulse point against his neck. His eyes are wide with fear.

Not so tough now, are you, asshole?

“Listen, man, I’ll do whatever you want. You need money? Is that it?”

I dig the knife a little bit deeper and twirl it around, causing blood to bead up beneath the blade. John whimpers like the pathetic bastard he is.

“Please,” he begs, crying now. “Please, man, just tell me what you want? Is it Kiara? You can have the bitch for all I care.”

Bitch.

That’s what he thinks of my butterfly?

A fucking bitch?

Kiara turns around and gives him an offended look. My anger must show on my face because his eyes widen to huge saucers right before the tip of the knife drives into the side of his neck.

His garbled screams are music to my ears, but it’s not enough. I need more. He needs to suffer.

Keeping the knife in place to prevent him from bleeding out, I go into the kitchen to grab another one.

“I thought you said you didn’t want to watch,” I tease Kiara as I come back out of the kitchen and return to my victim. She’s looking down at him—or rather, at the knife protruding from his neck—with something like fascination.

She takes a tentative step away from the wall and shrugs. “I got curious. And I can’t believe he had the nerve to call me a bitch after he tried to…”

Kiara wraps her arms around herself again as she comes to terms with the fact this is the second time she’s almost been assaulted—the second time I’ve saved her.

I hold out the knife to her. “Would you like the honors?”

“Absolutely not,” she fires back quickly, stepping back again.

I crouch down next to John and dig the knife into his neck even deeper. Amazingly, the fucker is still alive.

“Do you even know anything about him, Kiara?” I ask her, looking up at her.

She shakes her head. “Not much.”

Looking back down at John, I shove the second knife deep into his stomach and twist like I’d been aching to do all night. Blood squirts onto my face as he coughs and chokes on it.

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