"SOME DEATHS COME SLOW, DISGUISED AS TIME"
I paced about the quiet living room in anticipation, nervousness and excitement fueling my bones. The sound of Omari's fingers rapidly tapping his keyboard filled the space.
"Omar, are you done yet?" I asked for the umpteenth time.
"Vel, for the hundredth time—no," he said, frustration evident in his tone. "I'm a computer whiz, not a magician. Give me a fucking break."
His irritation was justified, but I hadn't the time to care. It was almost the end of the day, and I hadn't submitted my application yet. It was announced this morning on the news that the company was accepting the first twenty qualified applicants to move on to the next step—the interview phase.
That meant if I was going to make it on the list, I had to be among the first twenty to have applied.
Which I would have been… if my goddamn résumé was ready.
"Are you done yet?" I asked Omari again.
He ignored me this time.
"Why the hell is it taking so much time?" I whined. Getting this position is a huge part of my mission. We couldn't afford to miss it.
If we did, I'd have to kill another executive. And while I'd enjoy every second of using my tools on them, another executive dying not too long after the first is bound to stir up a frenzy.
And what if the company then decides not to hire? I couldn't risk that.
Omari looked up from his laptop and glared at me. "Whose fault is it?" he asked, annoyed. "I had prepared a stellar résumé last night. If you hadn't spilled your boiling coffee on my laptop and wiped the entire drive, I wouldn't have to start over and we would've submitted it since."
I paused for a while. I knew it was my fault but, like I said earlier, I didn't fucking care.
"The deed is done, is it not, Omari? Quit crying over spilled coffee and get to work!" I said, knowing fully well my words would annoy him more.
"Get off my back, bitch," he said as his eyes shifted back to his screen.
I deserved that.
I walked over to the bar and poured myself a drink to calm my nerves.
My thoughts went back to the conference yesterday. To the look in Carter's eyes when I asked that question. When I went against him.
It was obvious he didn't get that often.
"Well, that's why I'm here," I muttered. "To give him all of his unexpected firsts."
Ugh, that sounded way cooler in my head.
"Vel, I'm done," Omari said, cracking his knuckles.
"Oh goodie. Have you emailed it?" I asked.
"Nope."
"Well, what are you waiting for?" I exclaimed, walking over to him.
"Wouldn't you like to go over it or—"
"I don't fucking care. I trust you. Send it out," I said hurriedly.
"Alright, here goes…" he said, then tapped the enter button. "Sent."
I heaved a sigh.
"What now?" he asked.
"I guess we wait for a response." I shrugged.
"And while we wait?" he asked, cutting his laptop aside and relaxing on the couch. He lifted his arm and dropped it behind the couch, his eyes roaming my barely dressed body.
The shorts I wore displayed almost half of my buttocks, and the tiny sports bra revealed my entire cleavage. Dressing this provocatively was nothing out of the ordinary. At least for the two of us. This was how I always dressed at home.
Especially because I loved catching glances of Omari's eyes worshipping me.
"Velmora."
"Uhm," I hummed, taking my wine glass to my lips to stop myself from smiling. I knew what he wanted. But it was fun acting clueless.
"Come here."
He said it in a gruff tone. Fuck.
I moved instinctively, my legs having a mind of their own. Why did he have to say it like that?
I got to the couch, standing in front of him.
"Sit," he said.
I turned toward the space next to him.
"No, Vel," he said, stopping me in my tracks. "On me."
My knees buckled, and the next thing I knew, I was straddling him.
He sat upright, cupped my butt cheeks, bringing me closer to him. He then used his index finger to tilt my face to his.
"Vel…" I could feel him, rock-solid beneath me. "Let's finish yesterday's game while we wait, shall we?"
Before I could respond, he took my lips in his. His hunger was evident in his kiss. I could tell he was hanging on a thin thread. One could only endure so much temptation.
His hands began exploring as he drew me in closer, trying to fill every bit of space between us. I didn't resist, didn't protest. I couldn't even if I wanted to.
In no time, he tore open my tiny bra. I wasn't surprised by this. I knew firsthand how beastly Omari was when he was this hungry—for me.
He tossed the bra aside and stopped to stare at me.
The expression in his eyes was different. Something cold. Almost dangerous. Something I had never seen before.
And it almost seemed like he was in pain trying to conceal it.
I subconsciously reached for his face. "O–Omar. Are you okay?" I asked, worried.
He averted his gaze. "I'm starving, Vel," he said through gritted teeth. "I'm fucking starving."
I smiled, forcing myself to believe he was talking about sex, even though I could tell it was more than that. What else could it be?
"I guess I'm sex-starved as well. Let's feed off each other," I said playfully, hoping to erase the expression I saw in his eyes.
"No, you don't understand, Vel. It's more than that. I thought I could fight it. I didn't feel it yesterday, so I thought it was gone. But now… I'm fucking starving."
The look in his eyes made my heart ache, but my curiosity was stronger than my concern. "You thought what was gone?" I asked.
Before he could answer, a notification sound came from his laptop, cutting him short.
"I have to check this," he said without looking at me. "It could be them."
"Sure," I said, standing up and watching him closely as he visibly did his best not to look at me. Now I was a hundred percent sure Omari was hiding something from me. Something seemingly big. I knew he wasn't going to tell me now that the moment was ruined. But I swore to find out—one way or another.
"What does it say?" I asked when he kept staring at the screen silently.
"That the first twenty have already been selected. There's no slot left."
I wasn't mad. I already had a plan B.
"If there's no slot left, we'll create one."
"How do we do that?" he asked, finally looking at me.
"Simple. We eliminate one or two of the applicants and voilà! An available slot," I said dryly.
Omari raised a brow, then nodded.
"I'll prepare the torture room," he said and walked out of the room before I could respond.
I laid back down on the couch, the excitement of my next kill slowly creeping in.
It's about time I sent another soul to hell.