Page 141 of The Cute Psycho

"Well," he grimaces, "I got too into it." He shrugs.

"When do younotget too into it?" I mutter under my breath, amused. "Okay, now what's the next step?"

"Hmm," he strokes his chin pensively, "depends on what you want to do with it. We can burn him, chop him up and throw him at the bottom of the ocean, or even better chop him up and scatter him across the city. Like a treasure hunt." His face lights up.

"And the evidence? Wouldn't that be courting danger?"

"Isn't that the beauty of it?" He tilts his head back, smiling. "Why would anyone kill without the thrill of being caught? It's like a drug." He takes a deep breath, controlling his excitement.

"Is that what you normally do?" I raise an eyebrow at him.

Vlad might be volatile, but he's also smart enough to cover his tracks every time.

"Sometimes," he shrugs, "when I want to play with the cops. I leave them a crumb here, or there. It's awfully fun to watch them take the bait and follow fake leads," he explains, a wide smile on his face as he reminisces about some of his encounters with the FBI.

"One time, I was even brought in as a witness, if you can believe it," he chuckles. "I had to put on the best act of my life as I tried to lookdistressed. I might have even shed a tear," he recounts, proud of himself.

While he might find these events funny, I find them rather sad. Is that what he does because he has no friends toplaywith? It certainly looks like a lonely boy trying to get some attention any way he could—even if it was from the police.

"Right," I reply drily, "let's do bottom of the ocean. I don't think we need any scrutiny right now."

Especially with my brother in the hospital, the last thing we need is the police knocking on our doors.

"You're no fun," he complains, but he does get in the driver's seat, putting the car into gear and leaving the parking lot.

"Okay, we need to drop by your place and cut off the recognizable parts," I add, having read up a little on the subject.

Vlad might enjoy the thrill of being chased by the police, but I like the thrill of knowing that a dead body staysdeadandunsearchable.

"Hell Girl, your knowledge astounds me," he praises, bringing my hand up to his lips for a kiss. "I might even let you do the honors."

"Why, Vlad, that might be the most romantic thing you've ever said to me." I bat my lashes at him, playing his game.

"Only for you," he murmurs softly, and I get a tingling in my lower region, the thought of him taking me on top of the car's trunk while my uncle's dead body lies beneath us, making me incredibly hot.

We're soon back to the compound, the moon high up in the sky as Maxim takes out Nicolo from the trunk, bringing him into one of Vlad's science rooms and laying him onto a table.

"What first?" I ask as Vlad starts the drain, the blood pooling under the table and into a system specifically built to get rid of bodily fluids.

"Hands?" He pulls on a pair of gloves, giving me one too.

"Come." He takes me into his arms, his back to my front. His cock is wedged right between my ass cheeks as he wraps my fingers around a blade.

His breath on my neck, he guides me as I push the sharp end of the knife into the dead flesh. His hand on top of mine, he supplements the strength needed for the blade to puncture the skin.

My breath hitches when he lifts my hand, bringing it down with somuch force against the bone, cutting through it, pieces shattering around us.

"Yes," he whispers, "just like that," he rasps against my ear, and I instinctively push my ass into him.

"Yes," I repeat after him, entranced by the way my uncle's body gives way to the pressure, more splintered bone flying through the air, the flesh breaking, but little blood pouring out of the open cuts.

"It turns you on, doesn't it?" Vlad murmurs, his open mouth trailing up my neck. "Death, destruction, devastation... it makes you wet, doesn't it?"

I whimper, unable to respond as my legs part of their own accord. Vlad is quick to tug his gloves off his hands, his bare fingers trailing the inside of my thigh. I'm almost bent over the dead body, my back arched as the tips of his fingers light the fire in my veins.

"Cut," he commands, handing me the butcher knife, while he picks up another skinnier one.

I comply as I push the blade into soft flesh, a gasp escaping me when I feel him part my ass cheeks, a foreign object sneaking between my folds.

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