Bloodlust | lrh

8. Methods of torture

To say Soka is letting loose would be an understatement. The girl is sprawled across the couch, relaxed and in bliss for the first time in weeks. She's already finished her first glass of whiskey, sitting up to take the last sip of the second. It gets easier the more you drink, and the girl is a little more than tipsy after another glass.

She's barely eaten and weighs next to nothing after her weeks with Luke, and add that on top of this being her first time drinking? You could say she's hammered, and Luke can tell as soon as she tries to stand up.

"Woah, sit down." Luke quickly gets to his feet to balance the girl before she falls through the table. He hadn't thought about all the variables, now realizing he's gotten her more intoxicated than she can handle. She plops back down on the couch, laughter erupting from her small frame. "What's so funny?" He stares at her for a moment, watching her laugh so hard she snorts. He turns away to get another drink as soon as he realizes he doesn't hate the sound.

"I'm going to die here. In the hands of a beautiful psychopath. It's ridiculous." Her laughter interrupts her statements, but Luke gets the gist of it. He wants to be glad that she feels this way, but something about it doesn't sit right with him. He's not as drunk as she is, but he's been sucking down whiskey all the same.

"I'm only going to kill you if you keep acting like that." He mutters, the girl not even catching it. He takes back his seat, letting Soka get it all out. Her laughter dies down, her body collapsing onto its side as she stares intently at the blond across from her. "So, I'm beautiful?" He asks, a satisfied smirk taking over his face. He wants to mess with her more than anything, but something deep inside him actually wants to hear a response.

"Your words not mine." She slurs, pointing at herself while saying 'your' and him while saying 'mine'. Luke rolls his eyes, writing her off as too drunk to function. "You're never letting me out of here."

Truth be told he's gotten used to having the girl around, even if they've barely spoken in the last two weeks. Now that she minds her own business and follows the rules, it's easy for him to coexist with her. This is the longest a girl has lasted in this house.

"You have it better here." Luke says coldly, downing the entire glass in his hand. The girl picks herself up, a look of disgust clear on her face.

"Tell that to all the cuts and bruises on my body. You tried to push me off a skyscraper wall." She can't keep herself from laughing. She's trying her best to be act mad, but she's too drunk to fixate on one emotion.

"You have more here than you ever would out there." The blond is having a hard time keeping a straight face, but he isn't one to really relax. Her incessant giggling sounds good when it fills the house and right now it's threatening to make him laugh.

"I haven't worn underwear in weeks." She starts, trying not to laugh again. "I have nothing here."

"We can change that." The boy's words sound sincere as he goes for yet another drink. Soka wonders how he isn't worse than she is with how much whiskey he's had.

"I want all my stuff." She crosses her arms over her chest, staring sternly at the back of Luke's head until he turns around.

"I'll send someone." He gave in that easily, which shocked him more than it did her. He doesn't so much as glance at the girl who he can partially see is now smiling widely on the couch.

"Wait, really? I had this whole speech lined up, I was going to convince you why I deserve it." She slurs, making Luke chuckle.

"Yeah? Why do you deserve it, then?" He calls her bluff, watching as her mouth flops like a fish.