Closing my eyes, I stand still and concentrate. My breathing, my heartrate. I totally tune in to my body and my surroundings. The sounds of the night. The feel of my pulse, the rush of adrenaline. My mask. The mindset of the wolf. The masterful hunter, sleek and cunning. Bloodthirsty and dedicated to its prey.
“Ready or not, Rabbit, here I come.”
I stalk forward, my every step a calculated advance toward Rabbit. My movements are silent as I listen for her, her soft footfalls, her scared little rabbit energy.
Rabbit’s smart. She’s going to circle around and try and watch me, come after me. That’s one of the things I’d do, and she’s got the same killer instinct in her.
Unfortunately for her, she’s untrained in those particular arts. She’s pure instinct, so I also need to counter for the expected unexpected. She might run, but it won’t be that far if she does.
I’m both danger and safety. The car is safety, but I’ve got her keys, wallet, gun, phone, and coat.
Yeah, I’m stacking the deck in my favor.
In the opposite direction, the street she ran down heads into a cluster of well-lit condos. The houses provide more cover, so I choose a strategic spot and crouch, my muscles coiled like a predator ready to strike. I wait, my heart pounding in anticipation as I plot my next move.
A sound catches my attention, and I go completely still.
There. Across the street.
A flash of white. A rabbit mask.
She’s fucking good. She sticks mainly to the shadows and her shoes are off, rendering her silent. Rabbit moves like a hunter in prey clothing, and it fucking excites me. I’m hard as I try to focus on her in the dark.
A cat yowls and dashes out and across the street.
She doesn’t make a sound.
But she’s there, edging forward.
I can just make her out now. She’s heading to where she can see the car.
I don’t follow yet.
Rabbit slips through a gate and into someone’s property. There aren’t any lights on, just the one from the porch, but she’s not heading up there. She’s making her way across the grounds, keeping close to the fence.
Clever little rabbit.
I follow, moving fast and silently. I skirt up and around and come down behind her as she reaches a gate. She stops and frantically looks around. Can’t see the wolf, can you, baby? She senses me, though, and shoots off running to the right.
I walk to where she just stood and inhale. I can smell her perfume. Her fear. It’s sweet, but her excitement is even sweeter.
I let out an almost maniacal laugh, my heart pounding, and I give chase.
The sound of my feet hitting the ground echoes through the night, spurring Rabbit on even more. She runs with a grace and speed that is truly magnificent. But there’s no way she can outrun me.
I can hear her breathing, feel her fear, her excitement. It fuels me, thrills me.
I’m getting closer now, closing in on her with every passing second. I could end this game right now if I wanted to, but I don’t. I want to keep playing, to keep her guessing. I want her to feel that rush of exhilaration, that sensation of being alive.
“Come on, Rabbit,” I call after her. “Give me everything you’ve got.”
She stumbles and falls forward onto the grass, and I take that as my cue to pounce. She tries to get up, but I grab her waist and pull. Without a word, I slap my hand over her mouth and pull her against me. She struggles, but her heart thumps hard and her ass comes in against my cock. It’s electric. Pure fucking sex.
“Got you, Rabbit. Punishment time. On your fucking knees.” I don’t give her a chance to do anything but obey as I tangle my hand in her hair and push her to her knees.
She could use her word.
Of course, she fucking doesn’t.
Maybe I should push her a little more.
I pull the gun from my back, and her eyes behind the hot as fuck bunny mask go wide. Flicking off the safety, I place the muzzle against her temple. Fear burns in those beautiful crystal irises of hers.
“Got something you wanna say, Rabbit?”
Her lips part, and for a second I’m sure she’s going to say it. Savage.
But instead, she licks her lips and shuts them.
Good God, she’s magnificent. One of my favorite things about Poppy? Her sheer, fucked-up defiance.
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Sassy Redhead Book Reviews 