Pulling his gaze away from the mangled bodies, and back to Zai, Kyle's stared into her warm brown eyes. Ones which to him had remained warm, even when she'd clawed out those of Ian. Both of them painted in blood, the sensation of it seeping through their clothing and melding them together, felt natural, and there was no hesitation in his words, or the heat of his embrace and passion of his kisses. "Yep, hot." His blue orbs twinkled, and a crooked smile lit up the Army Veterans face. "And, you're right, they probably would've just pissed us off, and then we'd have had to murder them."
The smile transformed into a grin as he slid a hand down to Zai's waist, and displayed the bag of pills in his other. Kyle wasn't a man who sought out drugs, but nor was he inexperienced in their use. There'd be many an occasion on his tour of duty in Afghanistan where he and his comrades, implicitly condoned by his superiors, had required assistance to ease the effects of an adrenaline and endorphin rush come-down following a mission, when they were likely to collapse in exhaustion before the debriefing, or fight between each other. That high was addictive.
When the build-up of chemicals in his bloodstream dissipated, the muscles in Kyle's arms and legs quivered, and he sensed the first strains of mental exhaustion begin to claim him. He didn't want to sleep, he didn't want to collapse to the floor, he didn't want the darkness to pass, and for the time to fly where, before either of them knew it, they'd be woken by the breaking of dawn, and required to leave. Kyle Evans wanted nothing more than to spend until the early morning hours awake talking to and holding Azairah, and savouring the completion of the first act of their depraved play.
Zai didn't hesitate when he offered her what was, he knew from experience, an ecstacy tablet, and slipped it between her lips before she kissed him again. Kyle's mouth opened to hers, and he moaned softly as her tongue danced against his, barely noticing the bitter taste of the pill through the sweetness of her mouth. "I couldn't have done it without you." The room appeared to close in, leaving only space for him and Zai, and nothing else existed in that brief moment as the drug dissolved. Then their lips parted, and all came back into focus when his gaze followed hers to appraise the scene.
No mercy, no remorse, simply excitement at the acts they'd perpetrated. "That was only a warm-up," he replied, nodding at the duo when she stepped back and tugged on his shirt. He liked that. As she pulled him closer, he lifted a hand and caressed a scar on her cheek, flecked with the life-blood of one of the men who'd caused them. "You think I'm violent, then you should have seen yourself. Remind me never to anger you, Ms D'Amici. You're terrifying when you're mad, but so fucking sexy." Kyle teased as he briefly slipped his tongue into her mouth, and nipped at her lower lip. "I'm glad you enjoyed the show, and believe me, your own was just as arousing. Cole Douglas is going to rue the day he was born."
An image entered his mind of the poor, and as yet unaware of his doomed future, Cole, being crucified, arms and legs spread and screaming in agony as Zai drove six inch nails through the palms of his hands and the soles of his feet, although he didn't mention it to Azairah. She was sure to have her own plans for the asshole. By the time the image cleared, she'd released him, and Kyle was greeted with an enticing sight. That of the fabric of her shirt sliding off her body, leaving Zai in naught but shorts and a bra. Kyle lowered his gaze, and allowed it to linger for a few moments, before he pulled his attention back to her face, a mischievous smirk playing across his lips. "You did great Zai, and as gorgeous as you look in red, I think I could grow to appreciate that view even more. Promise you won't kill me if I stare?"
Kyle wasn't aware when the full effect of the E kicked in, if it happened gradually, or at a particular instant, but suddenly he noticed that the world appeared brighter and clearer. The crimson splatters that dripped down the walls and off the ceiling constantly changed shape and formation, telling their own story, whilst the bodies, which had been left as they'd died, took on an artistic pattern. Outlined in the light filtering through the drawn curtains, the corpses perfectly aligned with the moon's beam, as if it were a spotlight being shone onto a painter's canvas at an angle designed to best show off the perfection of his creation.
That concept elicited a laugh as, with a glance at Zai when she folded to the floor with her back to the couch, he theatrically squished through a pool of blood, wrapped his fingers around the blade embedded in Lauren and, in an effort reminiscent of King Arthur extracting Excalibur from the stone, placed one foot on her thigh and drew it free of her torso. Dead flesh further ripped and tore, and Lauren's body lifted in the air with the impetus, but Kyle didn't notice as he turned towards Ian.
"A present for our friend Cole." Every movement and action heightened in his drug-induced state, Kyle gripped Ian by the hair, and lifted his head up to stare into the black hollows that had once contained his eyes. A second later, he placed the serrated edge of the knife to Ian's left ear, and sliced through cartilage and tissue. "Maybe a third will help him hear the next time a woman says no." The Army Veteran displayed the grisly trophy to Zai, then nonchalantly tossed it on to the coffee table, and approached her.
In contrast to the emotionless way he'd just further degraded their victims, Kyle's eyes welled with tears when he dropped down beside Zai and threw an arm over her shoulder. He remained silent for a few moments, then gently cupped her cheek in his palm, and held her gaze. "I'll never leave you, I'll never hurt you, because, and I never thought I'd say this to a woman again, I love you, I need you. You complete me." The words came out in a whisper, and were followed by a soft, lingering kiss, before the drug once again swiftly dragged his mind off in another direction.
"Now, how about we take some shots for posterity." Breaking the kiss, and sliding his cell phone from his pocket, he snapped a picture of the incredible woman beside him, then focused on their victims. "You know, they are gorgeous. Once we're done, we could have our own photographic exhibition." Kyle spoke in a tone of pure amusement, and he began to laugh as the shutter clicked again and again, capturing the death scene in all its gory, bloody, beautiful glory, "A real-life Jackson Pollock tribute."