That cool and calm expression snapped back on her face. “Are you actually going to do something or bore me to death with your theories?”
Even now, she was trying to take control of the situation. How cute.
“Sorry, Little Bird, you don’t call the shots.”
That wasn’t how this game worked. She’d learn that. In the meantime, I could have a little fun.
“But who knows.” I let go of her chin and sat up. “Maybe you’ll get lucky.”
“Luck has nothing to do with it.”
I’m sure that was what she thought. “The fact that you drugged some idiot in a room full of people would say otherwise.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She added a defiant chin lift with that statement.
It was so fucking adorable I couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Are you really trying to play the innocent game with me?”
Her lids narrowed as a spark of anger flashed through her eyes. “You’re hardly the person to talk about innocence.”
“Touché,” I said while wagging my finger.
“Besides, it’s not my fault some random guy decided to take drugs.”
Decided? That made me laugh. “That’s an interesting word choice, though I suppose it’s not completely inaccurate.”
He did decide to chug back the drink she dosed. The random remark, however, was a flat-out lie. Marnie went to that party with a goal in mind. The smirk on her face when he collapsed told me that. Not that I particularly cared about her motives.
I had much better things to occupy myself with, like the sweet tinge of her honey in the back of my throat. The flavor was so intoxicating that I couldn’t help but dart my tongue out to lick my lips. My cock ached with need, yet I stayed where I was and pulled my eyes down her flushed face to the lovely red bite mark next to her pert nipple.
Something was nagging at the back of my brain. A question that wouldn’t go away. What made Marnie Dupire tick? It was fucking annoying. My prey was strung up, ready to be used. I should be enjoying the way her pussy squeezed my cock. Not sitting here searching for answers. What the fuck?
“Who looks confused now,” Marnie sang, drawing my attention to the snarl on her face.
“Well, aren’t we the observant one? Careful, Little Bird,” I leaned down and whispered, “curiosity killed the cat.”
“I’m curious, which of us is the cat in this analogy?”
I couldn’t help but smirk at that one. There was a reason I let her follow me around town. I liked knowing she was watching. It was amusing when the prey thought they could become the predator.
“You think you have me pegged, Little Bird.”
“I know what you’re capable of.”
“Is that so?” I snickered.
While I was sure she thought she knew what I was capable of, she had no idea. The problem with that word was the limits. Capable implied guilt or empathy. A conscience that would stop someone before they went too far.
I didn’t have that problem.
“Lindsay Manheim.” She shot back.
There was a name I hadn’t heard in a while. My interest was officially piqued.
“What about her?”
“She was last seen at prom.”
