Page 48 of Run, Little Rabbit

His sandy blonde hair comes into view, and I don’t wait. I don’t even think. I just move.

He doesn’t see me until it’s too late. I kick the back of his knees, and he falls to the ground with a yell. But then I squeeze his neck between my forearms. He wriggles and bucks, but I hold tight.

“Hey, Angel. Did you miss me?” I goad, a little breathless with the exertion, but I keep my hold.

He throws an elbow backwards into my ribs, and I grunt.

I lick my tongue up the side of his face. “You’re gonna have to do better than that, sweetie.”

“Fuck you,” he gasps and throws himself backwards, slamming me into the ground.

The thud knocks the wind out of me, and I have to fight to keep hold of Angel. I wrap my thighs around his ribs and squeeze, constricting his ability to breathe. I might not be in the family business, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t trained by the best.

My father hired the best tutors that money could buy and ensured that I could take care of myself should anything like this ever happen. I can handle a gun well, but I much prefer blades. It’s the intimacy of killing with a blade that got me. How closeyou had to get to someone to kill them with a knife. It’s poetic or some shit.

I spent a lot of time learning how to attack people who were bigger than me, how to use their momentum against them and disarm them with ease.

The easiest way to get someone unconscious is to hit them with something hard. But that would be against rule number two: no maiming. And I kind of like Angel. He’s sweet and dark, two of my favourite things, and I don’t want to seriously hurt him. So instead, I need to steal his ability to breathe, which I can do by impersonating a boa constrictor. Can’t get oxygen to your brain if you can’t expand your lungs.

He starts to tire, and his attempts to break free are getting sloppy. His hands are barely gripping my forearms, and his legs have stopped trying to find purchase on the ground.

I know it won’t be long until…

Angel’s body slumps and goes limp.

Perfect.

I stay still a few moments more just to make sure he isn’t playing me for a fool, and then I slowly let go. I don’t want to kill the guy. I have my own rules when it comes to murder, and poor Angel doesn’t fit the bill.

If I’m taking a life, I want to make absolutely sure that they deserve it. They’ve either done something truly horrific and gotten away with it, or they’ve disrespected me or my family. Outside of that, I don’t touch them. I don’t need to. There are plenty of assholes that fit into those two categories without me having to look for my fun elsewhere.

But I do sure love the fact that I’ve managed to take one of the Volkov boys down. It’s thrilling. Exciting. Makes me want to fucking jump and dance and sing.

An idea pops into my head, and I bend down to find his phone. I pull it out and hold it in front of his face to unlock it, then find the camera. Setting it to the video function, I hit record.

I lie down beside him and film myself licking the length of his face.

Fuck, he tastes good. Like strawberries and cream and something a little wicked.

I look at the camera. “Hey boys, come find me. I want to play.” Then I blow them a kiss and drop the video in their cute little group chat.

The phone buzzes immediately with a response.

MAXIM:

You’ll pay for that, pet.

ANGEL:

You’ll have to find me first??

NIKITA:

??

I snort. There’s something about the fact that Niki uses pictures that is actually quite endearing.

But how boring is Angel using their actual names?! That needs to change.Andthere’s no title for their little group chat. I chuckle as I amend their contact details and the chat group name.