Page 50 of Cruel Pleasures
For the next hour, I lurked in the background as Klein grew more flirtatious and Imani drank her first, then started on her second drink. When she abruptly left Oasis, Klein left with her—and I did too, following among the crowd of other bar hoppers.
He bought her a drink at the Sunset Isle, a dance club known for its heavy partying. He gave a quick glance around the dancing tourists to see if anyone was watching and then poured spice into her drink.
It was in this instant that the scene darkened. My task was forgotten. My night would be spent otherwise occupied.
I stand up from the armchair, still holding the bloodied knife, and I wander over to Imani’s bed. She’s rolled over onto her side, tucking her hands under her pillow. The expression on her face is empty, her mind so far away.
It’s a contrast to how she’d looked the night Klein roofied her drink.
She’d been stumbling, much like she stumbled tonight, but he pulled her along. He fished the key to her room at the local B&B out of her pocket and dragged her inside. She was so out of it as he parted her thighs and wrenched off her panties, she couldn’t even hold her head up.
He didn’t get any further than that…
My gaze drops to knife that was presumably used to run Talia Weinberg through.
Ms. Vanderson had accused Imani of being the perpetrator, but I didn’t buy it for a second. Imani’s highly disturbed by bloodshed. She’s not capable of that level of violence.
Then again, Kaden hadn’t been aware Lyra was either.
I’m not clear on the full story, but I know enough about how they’d stormed a party at the Winchester together and murdered the Owner. Many of the details of the ordeal are still rumors. Unconfirmed speculation.
What would Imani say if she knew the truth about me?
How would she react if she found out what I did that night, as she lay passed out from the roofie?
The shock on Klein’s face was priceless. It faded for a few brief seconds as he laughed.
“You scared me,” he said. “I didn’t think you’d be up for my scheme. Come to join in? I’ll allow it but I get first dibs. You’re getting sloppy seconds.”
They were some of the last words Klein Fairchild ever spoke.
His jugular was sliced open and his tongue was cut out, and I relished his blood spilling all over me. My heart was pounding and I couldn’t stop as I wrestled the knife out of him then stuck it in again.
It would disturb the average person to know how good it felt. My adrenaline abuzz, I was high off the kill the way Imani was high off the spice.
That night and tonight.
She had murmured in her sleep, her body curling up, so clueless to what I had just done for her.
Blood was everywhere.
All over me. On the bedspread. On the floor. It had splattered onto Imani’s legs and thighs.
I had a messy dismemberment and clean up ahead of me.
She came first—I called up the front desk and reserved a new room. When the clerk questioned what was going on, I snapped at him to shut up and stop asking questions. I threatened he’d lose his job. Then I scooped Imani up and moved her to her new room.
Her belongings were brought over. Her clothes disposed of.
I scrubbed her clean the best I could without disturbing her deep, drugged sleep.
It was not lost on me how intimate the act was. How she didn’t even know me, yet here I was, cradling her nude body, cleaning her up from the bloody mess that had been made. Her face held my attention—full, round features that were soft and feminine—but so did her enticing shape.
Her breasts swayed with the slightest movement. Her thighs were thick and supple to the touch.
I bit down on my jaw, fighting off the dark lust spreading through me, hardening in my pants.
Though I didn’t know when, I knew I’d have her. I’d enjoy every inch, every curve of her.
