4
“Hey, sexy.”
I flash my blue eyes at him, and he takes a step back, shaking out a hand like he’s been burned. “Damn. Who invited the ice queen to the party? Why did you come, princess, if you weren’t going to put out?”
I push past him, entering the backyard with its thumping bass that makes my head hurt. “I have no idea what any of the words you’ve just uttered mean. Let me through, brute.”
“How about a kiss, hmm? Down there?”
“I preferred it when we were strangers.” I sigh, wondering why I came here, to this party full of drunk idiots with raging hormones.
“Aww, come on, sexy. Give it a kiss.”
I roll my eyes, feeling pretty damn bored of the stumbling guy who’s currently cornering me against a wall.
“You’re so dirty,” I tell him, “that if you tried to clean that useless appendage of yours in the sewage system, you’d soil the sewage. I don’t kiss filth.”
“Huh.” He blinks in confusion, putting his arms down to let me pass as a shout of laughter sounds out behind him.
“Sick burn!” guffaws another guy. “Here, have a beer, Cassie.”
“It’s Cass, not Cassie. And I don’t drink. Especially not that. But thanks.” I add that last word as an afterthought. I guess the guy currently trying to wrap his arm around me thinks he’s saved me from Loser Number One. But I’ve never needed to be saved, and that’s not about to change now.
I’m aware most of these fools are from my high school, but I’ve never taken the time to learn their names. As far as I’m concerned, these rich Astley manbabies don’t contribute a thing to society, and I’m not about to waste a single second of my time on them.
I came here for only one thing.
Okay—maybe two. Truthfully, three.
It’s hard to admit any of the reasons but the first one to myself.
I want to hear exactly what they’re saying about the Dark Devil.
That’s what people have been calling the serial killer who’s been going around offing Devil Employees.
The town of Astley is terrified, and though these high schoolers are far too stupid to think they’re anything but invincible, the great majority of them have parents that work at Devil.
I want to know what they’re saying. And what better place than a party full of boozed-up idiots to hear the unfiltered truth?
I convinced Daddy my intention was purely to protect myself. But honestly, I came here to gloat. To soak up the fear, the cluelessness, the stupidity.
My smirk feels plastered on as I mingle with first one group, then another, and hear that the main conversation isn’t sports, or grades, or even sex. It’s me.
That is, the Dark Devil.
But the surge of happy pride is dampened somewhat by the fact that my other two reasons are nowhere to be seen.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I glance at the screen.
Daddy: Be a good girl, now. Don’t come home too late. Curfew is strictly at 11 p.m. If you’re late, I’ll have to punish you.
I quickly type my answer, making sure no one can see—I’m aware that most people might find this relationship I have with the man everyone in town believes to be my father a little odd. Even odder than the whole killing thing.
Cass: Don’t worry, Daddy. I’ll be on time. You won’t have to punish me.
Daddy: Okay.
Daddy: I might just punish you anyway.
What’s even odder is the effect those words have on me. I squeeze my thighs together as I continue searching the backyard for my two other reasons.
“Look who’s there,” a girl nearby whispers audibly. “I can’t believe Cass freaking Henley showed up. She always acts like we’re shit on her shoes.”
That’s because you are, I think to myself.
I turn lazy eyes toward her, and she blushes and turns away. I don’t remember her name, but I do know she’s the most popular girl in school. I’m glad my icy blue eyes have the power to make her blush. She’s never looked embarrassed by anything or anyone other than me.
“Hey… whatever your name is,” I say, wandering up to her.
She looks around in confusion, then back at me. “It’s Hannah.”
“Yes. I don’t have much memory for random names.” I smile sweetly at her, and she looks like she’d love to strangle me, but doesn’t dare. “Is Piper around?”
She scoffs. “Piper? As in Piper Day? No one would touch that girl with a ten-foot stick. She’s poor, ugly, stupid, lame—”
Her voice trails off as she catches sight of my expression, and she quickly turns away.
I guess that’s my number two reason for being here, and I’d rather admit that than number three. I should have known, when I heard about this party, that my unpopular lab partner wouldn’t have been invited.
I’ve come to realize that I’m the only person who talks to her.
If talking can describe the few words we occasionally exchange.
Still, she doesn’t annoy me as much as the rest of the school.
She doesn’t put on an act or care about her image.
She doesn’t try to hide that she’s—well, exactly how Hannah described her.
Poor, ugly, stupid. Still, I did want to see her.
I guess it gets kind of lonely, being a serial killer.
It’s strange to realize it, but science class is the bright spot of my week. And it’s because of her.
Because she’s the closest thing to a friend I have. A girl who sits next to me and whom I speak three words to every two weeks.
Sighing, I enter the house, determined to at least find out about reason number three before leaving. The music isn’t as loud in the living room, but there are more people, and I get jostled around as I try to cross the room.
“Holy shit! It’s Cass! Having fun, Cass? Want some beer?”
“No… thank you. How about some ecstasy??
“Oh, damn. I didn’t know you were down to party like that. Finn’s upstairs in my room.”
And that’s number three. Not the drugs. The guy.
I tell myself, as I walk up the stairs, that I’m not actually interested in him. And yet, he does have a strange effect on me.
Ever since he started participating in the drug trial at Devil, I’ve been thinking about him far too much. I’m interning there, and I get to administer the Valeron, and his stupidly buff forearm occupies more of my thoughts than I’d ever admit.
I need to see him again, outside of school, outside of Devil, just to get rid of whatever stupid fluttering sensation I get whenever I set eyes on him. I’m sure that in this drunken cesspool, I’ll see him exactly as he really is—a drug-addled moron who’s not worth a second of my time.
I don’t have to search very long. There’s a long line of guys and girls waiting outside a door, and they all look either high or frustrated not to be. Stalking up with my head held high, I cut right to the front of the line.
“Hey, wait! You can’t do that! Oh, shit—it’s Cass.”
One withering glance, and they all shut up. I guess they know something is off about me. I’ve never had to do anything but blink my blue eyes for most kids at school to know not to mess with me.
“Okay, next!” calls out a deep, clearly bored voice, as two giggling girls stumble out.
I clench my jaw, and my stomach clenches, too—I don’t want to try to decipher what’s going on inside me, but it feels like an uncomfortable mix between jealousy and arousal, respectively. Sucking in a deep breath, I enter the room, closing the door behind me.
Finn Austen sits in the corner of the room on a chair, wearing a distressed leather jacket, his jeans tucked into combat boots.
His dark hair hangs in his eyes, and he’s got stick-n-poke tattoos on the side of his face.
He’s scruffy-looking, like he doesn’t bother to shave that often, and his eyes are a dark, undetermined color that swirl as he counts a thick wad of bills.
He looks up at him with a bored expression that immediately grows interested when he takes me in.
“Cass.”
Goddammit, I hate how unsettled he makes me feel. I have to force myself not to fidget.
“I’m here for some drugs. What can you fix me up with?”
His lips part into a lopsided smirk. “That depends on what you want, baby.”
Anyone else calling me baby would be dead, or at least, severely injured. The idiot downstairs who referred to me as sexy is lucky he wasn’t alone, or he’d be minus that appendage he wanted me to kiss.
But the word, spoken by Finn, makes my core twist.
Damn it!
“Well, I have a twenty. What does that get me?”
His smirk deepens. “Nothing.”
“Really?” I lift a brow. “You don’t have anything in that bag—” I nod at the leather satchel that clearly contains his drugs, “for twenty bucks?”
“Hmm, well, I don’t know, baby. Why don’t you come over and find out?”
I try to find enough saliva to swallow. But my mouth is dry, and it feels uncomfortable. “Fine.” I walk over with a show of bravado. “So?”
“So…” He pats his lap. “Take a seat.”
I’m gritting my teeth so hard it feels like I’m two seconds away from grinding them into dust. “A seat? On you? Please,” I scoff.
He looks up at me, and the dangerous swirling in his eyes take on a pleading quality. “Yes, Cass… please.”
This time, I do manage to swallow. The way he looks at me…
how much does he remember about the drug trials?
About the way I stroke his arm every week as I inject him?
I know one of the side effects of Valeron is memory loss.
Does he… does he know about the softness I show only to him for about thirty seconds every week?
“I’m… I’m very drunk,” I mutter, stopping in front of him, and allowing him to guide me over his lap so I’m straddling him.
“Uh huh. Sure you are, baby.”
I shiver as he runs his hand through my hair, tucking a strand behind my ear. I shiver even harder when his hands stroke down my sides, from my waist to my bottom. He digs into my cheeks, pushing me closer to him, so close I can feel the heat of his body against my skin.
And then… he starts grinding on me.
Oh, god. I can’t decide what I want—to be held by him, or used by him. Whatever it is, it needs to be him. Daddy has never been further from my mind. My core is on fire, and I rest my head against his chest, closing my eyes and letting him take the lead.