Page 12 of Psycho
He hated the fear in his voice, especially when, the truth was, he’d known this day would come eventually. It was only a matter of time before Kohn came to finish what that patient had started, or maybe he’d hired somebody, just like last time.
The stranger’s body shifted until only his face was in shadow. “Do you always wake up screaming?”
Tension drained from his body. Not Kohn. August. August Mulvaney. Theotherserial killer to enter his life. Equally as deadly, probably more so, but he hadn’t arranged to have Lucas killed, so he was still better than the alternative.
“How did you get in?” Lucas asked, gripping the knife handle.
August rose, prowling closer until he loomed over Lucas, partially illuminated by the slice of moonlight that cut through the bedroom. Lucas sat hunched over on himself, but he lifted the knife just enough to show August he was armed.
“Stay where you are.” There was no heat in his words. He was just so fucking tired. He wanted it all to be over already.
August’s voice was low, almost crooning. “You’re holding it all wrong.”
“What?”
August dropped to his knees before him, his face finally revealed. Lucas had to fight the urge to reach out and run his hands along the scruff on his chin. He’d never wanted to touch a person so badly in his life. Touch had always meant bad things for Lucas.
He shook the thought away. Normal people didn’t find murderers attractive. How had Lucas ever passed the FBI’s psych evaluation? They should have just locked him up on sight.
He sucked in a breath as August’s fingers began to trail over his forearm, the pads of his fingers tickling the hair there in a way that gave Lucas goosebumps. There were no flashes this time, just the barely-there caress of his touch that had his cock hardening. He watched, transfixed, as August’s fingers advanced slowly until he reached the hand holding the knife.
“Are you here to kill me?” Lucas asked, finding the thought didn’t scare him like it should.
August gave him a cryptic smile but didn’t answer. He gently unwrapped Lucas’s grip from the hilt of the weapon. He hoped he’d just plunge the blade into his heart and be done with it.
Instead, August turned the knife, point out, then closed Lucas’s fingers around the hilt once more. “Holding a knife like that will get you killed. The blade’s no good pointed at the floor.” He gripped Lucas’s wrist, placing the tip of the knife over his own heart. “Like this, you can stab here.” He moved the blade to rest beside his throat. “You can slice me open here. I’d bleed out in seconds. With the blade like this, every glancing blow will cut your opponent. Even if it doesn’t kill them, they’ll be in pieces before you finally end their suffering.”
There was no malice in his tone, only a trace of amusement.
“Is this funny to you?” Lucas asked, trying to make sense of any of it. “I’m not going to tell anybody, if that’s what you’re worried about. Like you said, who would believe me anyway? If you’re going to kill me, just do it.”
August gave him a pitying look, brushing the back of his hand along Lucas’s cheek. “Are you alright?”
Lucas choked on a sob. Was he alright? No. Of course, he wasn’t alright. He was losing his mind. He saw things, heard things. He’d lost his career, his credibility, the full use of his right arm. He woke up screaming each night and needed a dozen pills just to be a functioning human being. He didn’t want to do this anymore.
“Please,” Lucas begged, closing his wet eyes. “Just do it already.”
He waited for the pain to come, but it never did. Instead, warm soft lips pressed against his in a kiss that lingered. Lucas didn’t pull away. It didn’t even occur to him. But then it was over.
When his lids fluttered open, August said, “I work for an organization that eliminates dangerous people. People who slip through the cracks in our justice system.”
Lucas frowned. “You’re a genius, billionaire, crime-fighting vigilante? You’re…Batman?”
August grinned. “Exactly. You don’t have to be afraid of me. I’m a good guy.”
“A good guy who tortures people and kills them?” Lucas deadpanned.
“Yes,” he said, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
There was something so unsettling about August. He was trying so hard to be a person, but it just didn’t work. His smile, his intense gaze. He was a psychopath. That much was obvious. He’d suspected it in his office, but this confirmed it.
Still, Lucas didn’t want him to leave. He imagined it was like somehow befriending a wolf. He might eat him, but the thrill of being near such a creature was too exciting to pass up.
Lucas shook his head. “That’s… You sound crazy.”
August’s gaze met his. “Crazy is such a hurtful word. You’d think somebody with a degree in psychology would know that,” he chided. “Touch me. See for yourself. You can look around my brain for as long as you like.”
“Are you trying to get me to put down the knife?” Lucas asked, realizing how stupid that sounded, even to him. August could have disarmed him at any time. Lucas was basically a sitting duck. A big, half-naked sitting duck.
