Page 56 of His

“Are you going to finish that?” Gav reached over and forked the last piece of my omelet into his mouth. “You know, psychopaths really aren’t that dangerous.”

“Really.” I frowned. He was acting like it wasn’t a big deal. And he seemed so normal now, in the daylight. It made me feel sick. Sick that I had been falling for him, sick that even now, I didn’t know if I hated him or if I was pretending to hate him.

“It’s only around three percent of all violent crimes that are committed by psychopaths, you know.” He chewed on one side of his mouth thoughtfully. “The vast majority of murders are done by irate spouses, or gangs, or whatever. Not by people like me.”

“I’m sure that’s a relief to all the people you kill.”

“No, I suppose not. But everybody always worries about the psychopaths coming after them, and never about the wife they’re cheating on, or their drug dealers, or their disgruntled employees. It’s just notlikelyfor a serial killer to get you.”

“You got me.”

“Not like that, kitten,” Gav said, chuckling.

“Don’t kill him today.”

He swallowed. The smile faded from his face.

“Excuse me?”

“You asked what I wanted. Another trade, right? I want you to not kill him.”

“You don’t know this man,” Gav said, his lips pressed together so hard that they were turning white. “He was convicted of spousal abuse two years ago and bought the judge. All he had to do was pay a fine and attend some bullshit counseling sessions. He’s been fucking his intern—”

“I don’t care,” I said, my voice shaking. “Don’t kill him. Don’t leave me again today. Don’t do it.”

“Kitten—”

“You asked what I want. That’s what I want.”

Anger clouded his face. He stood and picked up my plate, stacked it atop his, and dropped both of them into the sink. My shoulders jerked at the noise.

“Upstairs.”

He grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me out of the kitchen. His face was dark, as dark as it had been after I’d tried to kill him with the razor. He pulled me back up the stairs and into the bedroom. My heart was racing. What had I done?

“Lay down.”

I sat on the bed, but I wasn’t quick enough. He shoved me down and looped the rope around my wrists.

“Gav, you promised—”

“You’re hurting me with this.”

“But you promised—”

“For today. Yes. I won’t kill him today. There’s your trade.” He spat the words bitterly as he tied my ankles roughly, not caring how tight they were.

“Where are you going?”

“What does it matter to you?”

“Don’t lie to me.” I thought of my parents, about them asking me to come home. I didn’t have a home. I never had a home, not with them, not with anybody. And not here.

“I’ll be back soon,” he said.

“Gav, don’t kill him! Don’t kill anyone, don’t—”

But he was already gone.

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