Page 17
“Good evening, mister,” I coo in a gross, overly young-sounding voice. “I heard you wanted to buy some cookies—”
My feet stutter to a stop as my eyes stab across the room to Judge Beckford.
…Who is lying naked on a metal surgical gurney, its feet end raised and head end almost at the ground. Plastic wrap is wrapped around his forehead, bulging gut and feet, binding him to the table as he chokes muffled sobs into the ball-gag stuffed in his piggy mouth.
“I hope you brought enough for the whole class.”
My heart lurches into my throat as the voice cuts through the dark bedroom.
Not just any voice.
I whirl and level a withering glare at Damiano as he steps out of the shadows and offers me a smug smile.
“Cookies, I mean.”
He casually walks over to where Beckford is saran wrapped to the metal gurney, his blubbery body and tiny dick poking through the gaps in the plastic.
When he gets to his victim—which should have been mine—Damiano turns and flashes me an even smugger smile.
“What the fuck is this?” I snap.
“Well, not the low-budget porn set you were clearly looking for,” he says as his gaze drags over my slutty outfit. “So...scamper off.”
My eyes narrow. “You knew I was coming.”
Damiano’s eyes say all the things his tight lips don’t.
Of course he knew I was coming. That’s why Judge Beckford is angled toward the door. That’s why he’s not dead yet. That’s why Damiano was waiting in the shadows to rub my face in it when I discovered him with my target.
“You were so good as to show me what it feels like to walk in on someone else fucking up your carefully laid plans, I thought I’d return the favor,” Damiano says with a cold, cocky smile.
“So this is retaliation?” I groan, glaring at him. “What are you, twelve?”
“I’m not the one in the schoolgirl outfit.”
I roll my eyes. “Joke's on you, Lamiano. I don’t do plans. And I really don’t do carefully laid ones, you fucking control freak.”
“How shocking,” he sighs in a bored, sarcastic tone. “Next you’ll be saying you struggle with impulse control.”
“Are you always this much of a dick?” I snap.
“No, I’m making a real effort for you.”
“I’m touched.”
“Modern psychology calls that 'mentally ill' now.”
I smile icily at him. “You have no idea how right you are.”
“Oh, I think I’ve got a pretty good understanding—”
“You don’t know what I’m capable of,” I rasp demonically, lowering my voice to a creepy whisper as I stare at him like a true lunatic. “What darkness lives in me. The hunger I have…for flesh.”
I bare my teeth at him. Damiano’s brows arch as his body goes still.
Aaaaand pissing his pants in three, two—
“Wow,” he croaks, blinking. “That was…”
