Page 21 of Karma

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 offthis 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 forgiveher! 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.

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