Lowkey Purge

three

"So..." I said, putting my hands behind my back and slowly walking toward Paul. I tried being sexy and seductive in my walk, but I'm pretty sure I failed. He must be a real weirdo since I could see his Adam's apple bob in anticipation.

Pfft. Loser.

I plopped myself down on the couch and crossed my leg over the other. I ran a hand through my hair, ruffling it and moving the parting to the opposite side to create more volume.

He must be real thirsty, since he was frantically sucking on his straw even though there was no apple juice left.

"So?" he breathed, trying to keep eye contact with me but his eyes kept lowering to look at my body. Well, shit. Do I look like a McDonald's quarter pounder to you? It looks like you wanna eat me up, and I was not into that in the slightest.

But I gotta keep my character. Do it for the kill.

Or vine.

Whichever works.

I reached over and took the juice out of his hand, putting it on the coffee table in front of the couch. He was staring at me, unmoving. Seriously, his hand was still cupped in the air like he was holding the juice box. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

This was the infamous Zane Fowler? How could he have killed that gorgeous Kelly Woods girl if he had a hard time even focusing on looking at my face? And he was having a very hard time if you know what I mean.

I brought my hand to his, pushing it down and into his lap, making him look like less of an idiot. I felt his fingers shiver in pleasure as our hands touched. I haven't even done anything yet and I had this guy wrapped around my finger. This was going to be too easy. I was looking forward to the challenge.

What a pity.

I pushed him by his chest, and he had no resistance to lay back on the couch. He propped himself up on his forearms. I could hear his breathing intensify. I was a bit surprised, to say the least. I expected him to stay calm and cool, knowing what he's done and how many times he's done it. But there was a lust for me radiating off of him that caught me off guard.

Should I feel bad for not feeling the same?

... Nah.

I crawled on top of him, putting my left hand by the left side of him, hovering over his body. I kept my right hand out, wanting to put it in my butt pocket so I could retrieve my small knife that I had tucked away.

His eyes were wide with excitement and I tried hiding the confusion on my face with a seductive smile. Something didn't feel right.

I licked my lips and began to lean in closer to his face. His breaths quickened and I felt his hand snake its way to my waist, curling his fingers around it and securing a light grip. His eyes fluttered closed and his lips puckered, awaiting for mine to reach them.

I think the fuck not.

I slipped the dagger out of my pocket and flicked it open, the satisfying shing of the metal ringing through our ears. I brought the weapon to his throat and he gasped at the cool metal coming in contact with his warming skin. His eyes flew open and they were clouded with...

Fear?

That's not right.

Zane Fowler, assassin, murdered hundreds of people over the course of a few years is scared of a relatively small woman holding a knife to his throat?

Wow! I gotta give myself more credit! I knew I was cool but I didn't know I was this cool.

"W-what are you doing?" He shakily breathed out, heart beating out of his chest practically. I smirked and flipped the knife on its flat side, sliding it across his neck painfully slow. Goosebumps pricked at his skin as I did so.