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What am I doing?
Why is she not dead yet?
She nervously picks at a loose thread on her jeans before combing her hair in her face and reaching for her water. She takes three big gulps, which is exactly what I needed, then sets the cup back down.
Good. This is good.
Now this can end.
A sigh rushes past my lips as I relax into the couch, my arm moving to rest over the back of it.
“I think you should leave,” she says, her voice full of disappointment.
I stare at her one-year chip on the table. “Soon.”
“What?” She stands and crosses her arms over her chest. “I want you to leave.Now.”
“Sit down, Olive.”
Her eyes widen like she can’t believe the command. The drug hasn’t hit yet, but any minute, she’ll start to lose control of her muscles, so she really should sit down. If she were to wake up tomorrow, she wouldn’t remember a thing.
“If you don’t leave, I’ll?—”
“How long have you wanted me to fuck you?”
Her jaw hangs open for a solid three seconds before she averts her eyes, her face reddening.
“Is that why you’re so nervous around me?” I ask, finally at ease. Almost over. Any minute now, those doe eyes will close.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“How long, Olive?”
When she sways, her brow furrows, and she looks around like she’s confused as to why the floor is moving. Her hands reach out for the table as she leans over, looking at me with a sweet innocence that makes me want to bring her face closer, kiss those lips again. Even now, she doesn’t look at me like I’mthe wolf about to eat Little Red Riding Hood. She looks at me like I have all the answers in the world, and she’s come to me for help.
I bolt forward to catch her just before her legs give out and cradle her head while dragging her to the couch.
She blinks up at me. “Wh-what’s happening?”
I pull her onto my lap while stroking her head. “You’re going to sleep now, gorgeous.”
Panic ignites in her eyes as she wriggles in my hold. “Alik, no, I?—”
“Shhh.” I run my thumb over her enticing lips to silence her. “Don’t fight. Just sleep.”
She whimpers and continues to struggle, her arm twitching but going nowhere without the drug’s permission.
I shift and lean down, my eyes closing as I replace my thumb with my lips on hers. I know it’s a mistake before I kiss her this time, but it’s already been made. Her whines enter my mouth while I run my palm down her face, her neck, over her breasts hidden by a thick layer of cotton.
The buzzing her protests made against my lips ceases as her movements slow to a stop. My lips pressing harder against hers, I run my hand back up her neck and prod my fingers against her carotid to feel her calm heartbeat.
I’m not a necrophiliac. I’ve never even considered Sleeping Beauty sex. But right now, with the DEA princess I’m about to murder in cold blood, I don’t want to stop. I want to sink myself deep inside of her and tell myself it doesn’t make any difference anyway.
I slip my hand beneath her hoodie and kiss along her neck while I jerk the material up. Her skin is warm to the touch, and after pulling the hoodie over her head, I run my hands down her sides and drink her in, pausing when I spot tiny birds flapping their inky wings beneath her bra.
My fingers trace the flock, leading me underneath the nude material when a phone dings.
I find the hoodie on the floor and pull Olive’s phone from the pocket. She has a text from someone named Creeper, and all it says is,come over. Creeper sounds like the name of a horror flick monster. Or a guy who wears wife beaters.
