Chapter 14
Icouldn’t stop shivering.
The way that woman had looked. . .
I smelled a mix of sharp, acrid smoke and cool breeze, as I woke up with a jolt.
Gabriel was in the recessed window seat watching me.
“Good,” he said. “I fucked you once while you were asleep. Now I can fuck you awake.”
“Is it you?” I whispered.
“Is what me?”
“Killing all those women?”
He frowned, making my stomach turn upside-down with fear.
“You think I’m going around the fucking countryside at 5 am murdering women? That’s some pussy bullshit, Lark.”
“Well? Is it true?”
I couldn’t stop shivering as he stood up, his bulk blocking the flow of autumn light into the room.
“You really think I’m out there hunting women?”
His full lips twisted up in a grin and under the lock of dark hair that fell into his face, I saw the glitter of his psychopathy in those dead dark eyes.
“I think you don’t care who you hurt to get what you want.”
“I don’t recall telling you it’s your job to think. It’s your job to grow my babies in your belly.”
“Oh, fuck you!”
In an instant, he had crossed the stone floors and pounced over me, caging me in with both arms as he split my thighs with his knee and sunk his cock inside me.
The cum inside squirted out onto my thighs, and I held onto his arms, felt the corded bands of muscles underneath.
“What I want is you. I’d hurt anyone or anything to get you.”
He had me pinned and trapped and he grabbed a handful of my ass in his hand so he could glide in and out, hot wet sounds of his domination.
“Tormenting fucking randoms would do nothing for me. Never did. Tormenting you is what makes my cock hard.”
“I hate you,” I gritted out.
He yanked my hair up so hard I squealed in pain.
“I love you.”
I gasped in outrage as he fucked the defiance out of me, gripping my ass, hips, back, his hands rough on my breasts, up my throat.
Why had he said that? Since when did a psychopath feel love?
Afterwards, he turned on his game controller, placing me firmly between his legs on the bed.
I moved to grab my dress, but he slapped my hand away.
“Don’t bother getting dressed. I’ll want to fuck you again.”
But the image of the broken, twisted bodies still haunted me.
The one in the barn.
The one at the rink.
Both of them connected to Gabriel.
What if he really was the killer?
Maybe it was smarter to stay quiet, say nothing about it.
After all, he was dangerous, and I knew that damn well.
Was he telling the truth? Or lying?
Could there possibly be two fucking psychopaths living around Ashgrove village?
And if so, what could be done about it?
I thumbed through one of my textbooks, trying to think of ideas.
Someone had a fixation. What was driving it? How were they choosing their victims?
The killings seemed random, unconnected. Just someone doing it for the thrill.
What if Gabriel could be convinced to help me hunt the killer down? Combine my knowledge of psychopathy and his cold brutality?
“We should do something about all these deaths,” I said as I watched him play, the strong fingers holding the controller lightly in his hand.
“Who the fuck is we? Not you. If I catch you trying to fucking Nancy Drew some murderer I am going to beat your ass, Lark. You already have a tracker so don’t fucking test me.”
I wriggled uncomfortably, feeling the rub of my sore ass against the bed.
“Well, what about you doing that?”
“No.”
“Think about how many more people could get murdered.”
“I don’t give a fuck.”
“What about me?”
“What about you?” he asked sharply. “You’re not allowed out at night without me so what are you worried about?”
“I mean you could find the serial killer and . . . make him stop or something. Or we could turn him over to the police.”
He snorted.
“I only give a fuck about knocking you up and hockey. Nothing else.”
I tried to be surprised by his fixation, but I felt nothing except a sick fear in the pit of my stomach.
“I have to go back to the university and teach in the spring, you know.”
“No. You’ll be traveling with me.”
“But—"
“Why the fuck would I want to travel without you? I’m going to need fucking sex, Lark. My cock in your cunt.”
“But--groupies—”
“Shut your mouth,” he thundered. “What do you need to teach for? You can do your research on the road. You can study me. I’m a psychopath.”
“I can’t study you,” I said indignantly. “You won’t even tell me anything about the inner workings of your brain.”
“I’ll tell you about my brain. It has your pussy in the center and my need to fucking wreck it.”
“You’re making a mockery of my chosen subject matter,” I said, although it was true.
All my years of research seemed pointless when I was totally unable to break Gabriel’s fixation.
I’d been such an overconfident fool to think a psychopath could change.
His lips grazed my skin, then bit deep.
“I love you. I’ve never loved anyone before.”
I gasped at the words. He tasted like sin, like fear and danger.
“Say you love me.”
“I don’t.”
“Fine. I love you.”
I hesitated, wondering if he would be pissed that I didn’t love him, but he only continued to play his game, both arms around me. What would motivate him?
“I want to make a deal,” I said, looking up at him, the strong jawline, the uncanny perfection of his features.
“What kind of deal?”
“To get my love.”
“I don’t need you to love me. I can get whatever I want from you.”
But I knew this was bullshit by the flicker in those dead black eyes.
“You can’t get my love. You can’t get it willingly from me.”
“With you, I don’t care if it’s willing or not. As long as I get it. I’m bored of this conversation, come suck my dick.”
I said nothing, but as his breath skimmed over my throat, I turned around obediently and bent to his cock, taking the thick rod in my hands and wrapping my hands around the base so I could guide it into my mouth.
His fingers brushed the tracker on my neck, then tightened so they surrounded my throat.
“And what would you do differently if you loved me?”
I felt like floundering. What inducements could I give a psychopath?
“I’d—I’d want to talk to you. Want to ask about your day and tell you about mine.”
It seemed lame to my ears, but a muscle throbbed in his jaw, and he said jealously,
“I can get that now. I can make you talk to me.”
“It’s not the same,” I said, gasping, as he ground my head down over his cock so I couldn’t speak.
I fought my gag reflex as he slid down my throat.
“Talk to me. Tell me your motherfucking feelings.”
Drool ran down my cheeks as I struggled to take his cock until he erupted without warning in my mouth, shooting jets of hot cum down my throat as I swallowed desperately.
“And what would I have to do?”
“Find the serial killer.”
He made a rude noise at me.
“What a prissy little do-gooder you are. How about you do me some good by turning around so I can put my finger in your ass and listen to you squeal?”
“Those are my terms.”
He scoffed, but for a moment. . .
Just a moment. . .
I thought he had wanted that.
Without waiting for me to obey, he twisted me around on his dick so I faced away from him and gripped my ass before pressing a thick finger inside. I wriggled, rolling my knees back and forth to try to make it easier to take him.
“I love that my baby is in that belly and you can’t do shit about it, except grow it good. Now I don’t want to hear any more about some killer.”