“All you had to do was leave this the fuck alone,” I tell him sweetly. I can feel the coldness sinking into me. The familiarmalice that always hits before I’m going to do something awful. The worst part is that the feeling is a welcome one. Ienjoyfeeling this way, and I’m starting to crave it. “But you just had to keep pushing.”
“No, I didn’t—I’ll stop,” Flanagan pants. “I won’t tell anyone about this. I’ll—” His words end in a gasp when I simply plunge the box cutter into the side of his throat. His eyes widen, his mouth falls open, and he releases a soft, almost whimper of pain as his eyes bulge in their sockets.
“No, you wouldn’t,” I sigh. “You’d push and push. You’d go to the cops and Esme would end up in jail for something she didn’t do.” Casually, I rip the blade from his neck then shove it back in, earning another whine from him. Blood sprays from his neck, spattering the ground, and distantly I’m glad it’s supposed to rain in the morning.
There won’t be any evidence of this once the storm is done.
Flanagan’s mouth moves, though all that passes his lips are a few bloody bubbles as he chokes on his own life leaving him. He gurgles and his eyes glaze over. Then when Larkin lets go of him, his body sags to the ground on its side.
He thrashes weakly once, then again, while the two of us watch, and my fingers curl more tightly around the weapon in my hand.
“You know,” I muse, still looking at him. “I feel like as far as a weapon of choice goes…?” I finally look up at Larkin who lifts his brows, waiting for the rest.
“Mine really sucks.”
Chapter
Twenty-One
Larkin laughs suddenly, covering his mouth as he snickers at my words. “Fuck,” he snorts. “I didn’t expect you to say that.” He shakes his head and steps around Flanagan’s body on the grassy cliff top, grabs my shoulders, and yanks me to him to kiss me soundly. My bloody hands come up to grip the front of his hoodie, and I wrench him downward to give myself better access to his mouth.
“Feral little thing,” Larkin praises. “With the worst sense of humor I’ve ever seen. Seriously? That’s what you say when you’re standing over a man’s body.” Shaking his head again, he snickers softly. “Pathetic, Sierra.”
“Tova.”
“Sierra.”He eyes me reproachfully as he says my name, a note of finality in his voice. He kisses me again, causing me to stumble, and when the body at our feet twitches, both of us look down to see Flanagan choking on a last wheeze of life.
“That’s awkward,” I murmur, but Larkin scoffs.
“He can watch.” Smiling down sweetly at the mostly dead man, Larkin shoves his hand off my ankle where the private investigator grabs for me weakly. I don’t know how he’s stillbreathing, but then another rattle leaves his lips, causing more blood to bubble there, and his eyes go dark.
“Is he dead now?”
“If he’s not, then he will be soon enough.” Larkin’s hands go to my hips and when I look up at him and his wolfish grin, my heart dips in anxiety.
“What are you—?” I yelp as he picks me up, though it’s only so he can throw me gently down on the grassy cliff, a few feet from the cooling body. “Larkin!” I yelp.
“Sierra,” he purrs with a chuckle, his eyes dancing. “You aren’t this dumb. Youknowwhat I’m doing.”
“Next to a dead body?”
“Be happy I’m not about to fuck youona mostly dead body.” He attacks my mouth with teeth and tongue, snarling promises against my lips as his hand goes to my throat. My legs kick out at him, though it’s more reflex than anything. I certainly don’t fight Larkin as he slots himself between my thighs and pins me there with his weight.
“But first…” He sits up, one hand still on my neck, to settle on his knees. His other hand strokes up my thigh, and the way Larkin catches my gaze in the moonlight gives me pause.
“First, I need to hear you say it.”
“Say it?” I parrot.
“Yeah.” He crawls forward until he’s braced on his hands over me, blocking out most of the light from the moon. The illumination shines around him like a halo, making him look like the most dangerous kind of angel to ever grace the earth with his presence.
That, or hell’s most beautiful devil.
“Tell me what you are, silly girl,” Larkin coaxes when I only gaze at him. “Tell me what. You.Are.”The way he repeats it sends a shiver down my spine. I drop my hands to my chest, shivering in the wind coming off the water only a few feet away.
The realization of what he wants creeps up my body, causing my toes to curl inside my sneakers. But I don’t give him the answer he’s looking for right away. The air around me feels charged with something more than the wind, and I feel frozen under him, under the killer with endless patience and vast charm.
As if sensing the sudden reluctance surging in my chest, Larkin moves his hand to cup my jaw. His thumb traces my lower lip, and the roots of false regret fall away like he’s personally burning them back with the fire of his own fucked-up desire.
