The dreariness seemed to, momentarily at least, melt from his face and he gave a condescending sort of grin. He seemed amused at her complaint, and she shot him a glare. Was he mocking her? She wasn't bothered by the means she had to use to get her job done. Sex was as much a weapon to her as her knife, and she had no shame in it. But Lena couldn't tell if Derrek's remarks were meant to tease her or tease with her.
She certainly didn't like being teased. The growling something in her bristled, and her limbs itched for some sort of release. Something to focus her energy on. "Yeah, fuck you," she snapped, taking another sip of her drink to avoid going into more details.
But then Derrek addressed the prospect of the kill and Lena's agitation was forgotten like a sudden change in the wind, her pretty face softening to a pleasant smile. "I'm not sure...ask me again tomorrow, and then the next day..." Her decision on the how to kill Westbauer seemed to change hourly. She doubted she would have a solid plan when the time came. Once she got the greenlight for his execution, she would wait for the perfect moment. She would feel when that moment came. No meticulous plan, just intuition. She would feel it right in her gut that this was it, that he had caught himself on her web precisely where she wanted him to be. And then she would dispatch of him with such ease, the hunter in her taking over with calm proficiency, like she didn't even have to tell it what to do.
Her tongue touched the rim of the stout crystal glass, thoughtful. Hmm...torture...she knew the tactics, of course. She knew how extract information when she wanted it. But it was just another means to an end. It was a slow and methodical process and often lost her attention. It never had the same satisfaction as the actual kill. Maim them and by the time you snuff the life from them they're already whittled down and weary. She liked to strike quickly. Hard and fast.
"Is that how you usually do it?" she asked Derrek. Glancing back at him she could see the eager glint in his eye. She could see the hunger there. He wasn't a terribly handsome man, she noted; his face was lined with some bygone cares. But there was something pleasant about that weathered look, and something pleasant about the clarity of his eyes. So often they just looked dull, bored, but now she saw that spark in them, and Lena knew there was nothing dull about Derrek. He was sharp. Always. Even when he wanted to look like he wasn't. Especially when he wanted to look like he wasn't.
Lena wondered how many people he had killed in the city of Philadelphia, and wondered if anyone would even notice. It wasn't the most serene of cities, that was for sure. Maybe their kind fit right into the City of Brotherly Love. Maybe she should kill...but she didn't typically take to wanton violence. She liked the sense of accomplishment that came with a specific goal...a specific target. She wasn't going to get any satisfaction by killing some worthless inner-city thug in Love Park for kicks.
Her musings were interrupted when she felt Derrek's fingers brush over hers, moving the glass to his lips to help finish her vodka. She let him, green eyes holding his, studying him. Reading his intention. Then his hand lightly brushed some of her silky hair aside, exposing her neck and collar.
His fingertips brushed over her skin and Lena felt her heart quicken--that flushed sensation of a foreign touch. Somewhere subconsciously she knew the danger, as his fingertips brushed over the line of her pulse in her long neck. She knew that he was like her. That flash in his eyes was the hunger of a killer, and she had such a little neck...it could fit so easily in his closed hand. Her muscles stiffened just slightly, but her lips curled into a grin. All he'd have to do was squeeze...maybe he would.
Just to see...Lena tilted her chin a little more, exposing her neck to him. Subtly her shoulders turned, orienting her body to face him, moving into the cusp of his hand, her pulse under his palm.
He must be feeling what she felt--this stir-crazy frustration. Cooped up here in this cold, wet city, sitting and just waiting, waiting, waiting.... She wanted to fight, she wanted to strike, she wanted to kill. Westbauer wasn't going to be a challenge. But Derrek could be. Derrek could match her.
They were close, and she leaned forward, their faces just inches apart. Coiled. Tense. Like the hunters that they were. Two vicious beasts with prey in sight--but was she potential prey in this moment? Was he even more frustrated than she was? Would he snap? The corner of her mouth curled up to a light grin, and when she spoke, her voice was low, little more than a whisper.
"How hungry are you?" she breathed.
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