Page 42 of Sweet Violence
Taj snorted, slanting a look my way. "You've begged me plenty before."
I glared, a pulse going through my clit. "Shut it."
He smirked, looking more relaxed than a few minutes ago, all attractive and casual in his sweatpants with loose dark hair around his shoulders.
"This is Bloodbath," he introduced, ruffling the fur of a cutie with deeper golden fur. "He's the oldest, he's almost thirteen now. I call him Blue," he added without prompting.
"Hi, Blue," I cooed, my heart melting when he turned his head, his tail giving a little wag. "You are so fucking cute, I'm keeping you."
"No, you're not," Taj argued instantly. "This is Butcher—Butch—and Mutilation—Tillie."
"Hi, babies," I said, crossing the room to be closer to the action and rewarded by a giant golden fur-ball plopping heavily into my lap.
"Tillie," Taj laughed, shaking his head, brown eyes soft with affection for his puppies. "You're not a lap dog; I keep telling you."
"Don't listen to him," I told her, stroking her and grinning when her entire backside wiggled, her tail going crazy. "You aresoa lap dog."
"And what about those three?" I asked, pointing at two dogs in a cuddle pile in the corner and one sleeping on their own, watching us with sad eyes from a distance.
"The clingy fuckers are Cruelty and Chaos," Taj replied. "And that's—"
"Hang on a second," I interrupted, burying my fingers in Tillie’s fur. "What are their actual names, and don't think you can skip over it."
Taj scowled, giving me a look that told me in no uncertain terms he was picturing taking on his demon form and ripping me apart with his claws. "Chaos is his full name, no nickname."
"And Cruelty?" I pressed, already smirking at the pissed off look on Taj's face.
He snapped his teeth at me, but it didn't have the same chilling effect in this form. He was just too damn pretty. "She's just Cruelty."
"Yeah, why don't I believe that?"
I let out an oof when a dog—Blue, I thought—slumped down at my side, throwing their head on my knee hard enough to bruise. Big, clumsy baby.
Taj muttered something under his breath, scowling so hard his cheekbones were pronounced.
"What was that?" I asked. "I didn't quite catch it."
I did however, catch a mouth full of fur when another dog—I'd lost track of the names, I wasn't too proud to admit—knocked Tillie aside to nuzzle me, smelling heavily of dog.1
"Teetee," Taj hissed, giving me such an intense glare that I nearly missed the smile on his face. Ohhh, he was enjoying this. So was I. We were so completely fucked in the head.
"Hi, Teetee," I cooed, and jolted when she headed my way with an alarming amount of energy. She was smaller than the others, younger, and jumped right on top of Butcher, knocking me onto my back.
"I, ah, may be in trouble," I told Taj.
He rolled his eyes. "You'll figure it out."
I was trapped by puppies. Okay, so it wasn't the worst way to be murdered. If this was how I went, so be it.
I watched Taj cross the room to drop down beside the dog laid on her own, stroking her fur.
"Hi Mallie," I said, but frowned. She flicked a look my way but didn't so much as wag her tail. "Is she alright?"
"She's been quiet since the attack. I know that fucker didn't hurt her, but he scared the shit out of her. That's why I brought her home; I thought being around the others would bring her out of her shell."
Well, no prizes for guessing which of the dogs was Taj's favourite. He rarely spoke as much as he had just now. Usually what he said to me were insults. Last night when he'd acted out of character, he hadn't spokenat all.
"So, what've you tried?" I asked him, balling my hand into a fist and miming throwing a ball.
