Rune by H.D. March Page A

wriggled. “What’s wrong?”
    “My clit, shit, Rune, it’s crying out loud for an audience with the President.”
    His smidgeon of a smile passed over her.
    Until he placed her on the bed and Rune discovered the material slashed on her thigh. “What the fuck? How did this happen?”
    “What?” Her body and thoughts fixed on her horny fanny and the instrument of seductive torture that clung to her clit.
    She gave a satisfied smile when he tugged her cat suit off. At last she would get relief. Jess blinked in shock at the blood dripping down her thigh. A splinter of glass wedged in her broken skin, it glinted in the play of light. She recalled a sharp stab of pain, one that she had forgotten. Instead, she’d channelled her fury into the evil bitch.
    A worried scowl crept over his face. Jess guessed he was probably wondering if it would interfere with sex.
    His golden eyes darkened and he shot her a glare. “No.”
    “No what?” Now, what was he talking about?
    He didn’t answer, instead gripped the glass between his fingers and tugged.
    “Jesus Christ, that bloody hurt,” she whimpered.
    “Thought it might.” He rose, dropping the shard into the bin, and disappeared into the bathroom. Two minutes later, he returned with a first aid kit and a bowl. She lay back wearing her thong, high heels, and collar, the cat suit coiled on the floor. Jess studied his features as he tended her leg and dragged in a hiss of breath. God, but she was relieved his vocation wasn’t that of a doctor.
    “Sorry.” Yet he didn’t look up.
    Yeah, I bet. “Who was she?”
    “Storm,” he answered without hesitation.
    “She’s your girlfriend?”
    “No.”
    Heck, he was hard work . “So, why did she say you’re her man?”
    “Probably because I’ve been fucking her over the last few months.” He placed a dressing on her thigh.
    Shit, why did I have to ask that question? “Regular?” She experienced a stab of jealousy. A mind-numbing, green-eyed monster screwed her.
    “Yep.” He glanced up and shifted the subject. “Why would someone try to kill you?”
    “When? What are you talking about?” Her eyes narrowed and wondered if he referred to the spat with Storm. If so, he was prone to exaggerating.
    He gave a snort. “When that knife hit where you were standing?”
    “What knife?” Jess wondered what he was talking about because she hadn’t switched her attention from Storm, her anger trained on the dark-haired cow.
    Jess had been busy giving rein to her imagination, how she’d torture her. Until Rune had scooped her up into his arms.
    Rune pulled a knife out of the back of his waist band. “This one.”
    Jess’s breath came out on a long whoosh; the blade glinted beneath the light. It looked sharp and deadly.
    “If you hadn’t dropped to the floor, it would be embedded in your chest.”
    Jess looked from the weapon up into Rune’s face. She quivered, a scramble of fear curled over her. Who would want her dead? An image of grey eyes rose, and she noticed the sudden curiosity on Rune’s face.
    “I don’t know; are you sure it was deliberate?”
    “No, it just slipped from someone’s hand and thumped into the wood.”
    Sarcastic twat.
    A muscle ticked along his jaw. “This was thrown with force.”
    “Well, I’ve no idea why. I mean, I don’t know that many people, and who would want to kill me?”
    She studied Rune in silence, thoughtfully chewing on her lip. He had to have got it wrong; it was an accident, nothing more. And besides it had missed her, she reasoned, and put his absurd suggestion to one side. Despite her injured thigh and near-death experience, only one thing remained on her mind. The clit clamp prompted her, and she shifted her hips, then wished she hadn’t when a burning heat grew in her belly.
    In silence, Rune took her hand, bringing her to her feet. She tested her leg out and discovered it was almost pain-free. Instead, her focus remained on the torture between her legs. She shivered