Chapter 10 Reverie #2
“I’ve always thought having a deeper understanding of forensic science would make someone a better serial killer, don’t you think? They’d know all the evidence not to leave behind.”
I know what the dickhead is implying, but I have no interest in entertaining him.
So, I type out another note, hoping he doesn’t notice how many times I misspell the word ‘preservation’ but already knowing he did.
I don’t want him to know he’s succeeded in making me anxious, but the tips of my fingers have gone numb from anxiety, and I’m struggling to remember if the American version of ‘analyze’ is spelled with an S or a Z. I’m pretty sure it’s a Z.
“Didn’t take you for that type of woman,” he drawls, a hint of amusement in his tone. “But if you beg real pretty for me, I'll help you out.”
I give him a weird look, but when he only stares at my screen, I follow his line of sight and instantly realize what he means.
Fuck, why the hell did I stop typing after ‘anal’ while trying to figure it out? It's been on the screen for at least twenty goddamn seconds.
“Shut up,” I mutter, feigning indifference while I quickly type the remaining letters.
My heart is thumping too fast, but there are only eleven minutes left of class.
You can make it.
“Have you learned about toxicology reports yet? I would’ve loved to know what mine looked like a few weeks ago after you snuck out of my bed,” he continues casually.
My eyes widen, and I glance around to ensure no one heard him. The asshole is going to make people think we slept together, for fuck’s sake.
“But I’m sure you don’t need a report to know what was in my system, do you, darling?”
I work to swallow, staring at Dr. Camry hard enough to laser a crater into the side of his balding head. Heat blooms across the back of my neck, and, within seconds, sweat forms along my hairline.
I’ve been waiting for him to bring it up again. He said he wouldn’t let it go in the pool house, and, of course, there’s never retribution without confrontation first.
“Don’t call me that,” I mumble, attempting to shift the conversation from my crime.
It’s fruitless, though.
He’ll never let it go. I could’ve killed him or, at the very least, destroyed his career.
It doesn’t matter that he nearly killed me first. It only matters that I gave him a taste of his own medicine.
Literally.
But if Dread can prove I drugged him, it would be very easy for him to turn the tables by getting me expelled and destroying my entire life instead.
I never had much of one after the wreckage Lionel left behind, but I managed to scrape together the broken pieces and assemble them into somewhat of a decent existence.
Nothing about it has been fulfilling, though.
At least not yet. Once I get my degree, I can give victims all the tools needed to do more than build a macabre rendition of a life from their brokenness. Instead, they’ll smooth out the serrated edges of those pieces and create something beautiful.
Except I will never get that opportunity if Dread decides to take shit another step further. And the most fucked-up part is, even though he doesn’t have proof, he doesn’t need proof.
This school will give him what my parents deprived him of as a kid.
Someone to believe him.
“Isn’t that how I show my devotion to you?” he asks with faux innocence.
“The only thing you’re devoted to is making my life miserable,” I grumble.
“I’m just making up for lost time,” he drawls lazily. “I think your life was a little too easy for my liking until I came around.”
Oh my God, he’s fucking insufferable.
My cheeks burn with irritation, and for half a second, I come close to slapping the shit out of him.
“You know nothing,” I snap, just barely keeping my voice hushed.
He leans toward me, the short sleeve of his gray T-shirt allowing his bare skin to brush mine. I suppress a shiver and force myself to stay still, lest he think I’m cowering from him. His proximity stirs up memories I’m still struggling to keep from the forefront of my mind.
Hot breath fans across my ear, and again, I shove down another shiver.
“I know you drugged me,” he murmurs, his tone dipping seductively.
“I also know what your pretty tits look like, and that you keep yourself bare between your thighs. What your tongue feels like wrapped around mine. What it sounds like when you moan for me as you grind against my cock. And how sweet your mouth tastes after you say my name. It’s almost as sweet as your tears. ”
My face burns hotter with each word, and my lungs tighten into strings, refusing to take in oxygen despite how hard I try to force it into them.
“I didn’t drug you,” I lie, pointedly ignoring the rest while also internally berating myself for how breathless I sound. “I dressed in the cold, wet clothing you stripped me out of, and then I left.”
He hums, clearly not believing my bullshit for a second, but I’m certainly not stupid enough to admit to my crimes. Or, at least, not the ones that could land me in jail.
“I did attempt to hack into your phone,” I continue, shrugging a shoulder with forced nonchalance. “But you can’t blame me for trying.”
He’s quiet, though his stare burning into the side of my face demands every bit of my attention.
“I can blame you for a lot of things,” he says finally.
“Add pressing charges against you for revenge porn to the list, should you ever show anyone that video,” I quip, forcing boredom into my tone as I boldly meet his stare. “Everyone will know it’s you based on the dates you wrote all over me.”
“You want to discuss crimes, baby?” he challenges. “What about the white residue at the bottom of my Gatorade? I still have plenty of bottles you tapped, and all it takes is showing them the metadata of that picture to prove you were there that night.”
I shrug nonchalantly. “Doesn’t prove I actually did it. You could’ve done it yourself to frame me.”
He chuckles devilishly, light impressions of his dimples forming above his cheeks.
I hate them.
They’re incredibly ugly. So is his face.
His heart, too.
“Who are they going to believe, darling? You or me?”
My upper lip twitches into a snarl, barely containing myself from punching him. I’ll happily create new dents in his face that’ll actually make him ugly.
With great effort, I force myself to face forward instead, refusing to take the bait and let him rile me up. He wants me to react, and I’ve done enough reacting without thinking where he’s concerned.
“That could’ve ruined my entire career,” he continues, his tone turning serious once more.
“You sure it wasn’t one of your conquests?” I query.
“I don’t bring women into my room,” he bites out.
“You brought me into it.”
Another soft chuckle, and the sinister sound slithers through my ear canal before making its way down my throat, leaving an oily residue in its wake.
“Baby, we both know you’re no woman. More like a cockroach.”
I try to ignore how those cruel words materialize into a fist and clench around my heart, along with the sharp, stabbing pain that follows suit.
I notch my chin an inch toward him and pin him with a glare. He hit the target he intended, so I shove that hurt down and focus on my anger instead. But it’s hard when he’s close enough for me to make out the dark blue rings around his irises, or that his lips are mere centimeters from mine.
I’ve had e-fucking-nough of those lips.
“There are no cockroaches without filth,” I hiss. “And you’ve already proven that you have no issue sticking your tongue down my throat, so what does that make you?”
One corner of his lips curls wolfishly, just enough to hint at those dimples around his eyes again.
A loud clap snaps me out of the trancelike state I’ve fallen into. I hadn’t realized the entire world disappeared around us, and the sharp sound sends me barreling back to reality with a harsh shove.
But I refuse to remove my glare from Dread, which only seems to amuse him more.
“Okay, folks, that’s it for today. Don’t forget to submit your articles by the end of next week.”
I hear Dr. Camry’s voice, followed by the rustle of students closing their laptops and gathering their papers, then the scrape of metal legs against the thin carpet.
Even so, I hold his gaze.
You should never turn your back to an undomesticated beast.
“It took me a full day to sleep off the meds,” he tells me quietly, his gaze dipping to my lips before returning to my eyes.
The briefest of flickers, yet it instantly sets the acid in my stomach aflame.
Heat is supposed to rise, but instead, it’s pooling lower and lower until it works its way down between my legs.
Those flickers of memories of his tongue licking mine are more vivid and insistent, making them harder to ignore.
He raises his hand to brush his knuckles across my cheekbone softly, evoking a static charge that has me bristling.
“All I dreamed about was you.”
I can’t tell if it’s condescension or reverence in his tone, but both easily trigger my flight instinct. Whatever is keeping me glued to my chair is deteriorating, and the need to run strengthens.
As if sensing that, Dread allows his stare to drop to my lips once more, though the journey back to my eyes is slow and deliberate. My heart flips when they reach their destination.
“You never needed to drug me, darling. If you wanted to fuck with my system, all you had to do was say my name.”
My mouth parts, shock and confusion battling for my attention. I’m frozen solid as he pulls away in one sweep, there and gone in an instant.
When I finally manage to blink myself out of the stupor he shoved me into, I turn my head to glance around.
Only Dr. Camry is there to meet my stunned gaze.
“Is there a reason you’re still here, Ms. Adams?”