Shadowface

Chapter 22

CHAPTER

TWENTY-TWO

LINCOLN

I t’s Monday afternoon, and I’ve just finished my third appointment of the day and the only reason I’m still here is because I’m waiting for Summer to show up. Despite my avoidance strategies to keep her alive, my fingers slipped last night, and those two words flowed out of my fingers as if the thoughts were my own.

Pretty girl.

I’ve never thought of her as pretty girl—those are Mikael’s rudimentary, fragmented thoughts. Yet at that moment, I was the one who said it.

I wanted her to come see me in my office—this is where I’m in control. This office, this profession, the life I’ve built myself over the past few years while he was asleep, none of it belongs to him. Here, he’s muted, and it’s the only place I’m safe seeing her in person without the chance of him fronting and killing her.

I glance at my screen, hoping to find news of the anticipated return of Shadowface causing a frenzy.

There’s nothing.

Which means Summer is still sitting on the incriminating evidence I sent her. Not that it would make a difference, even if she reported it to the police, since the chief of police is one of them.

Even if she did run to them, they won’t take any action. He’s given his oath, killed his beloved, and he will cover up any evidence to protect me, but more importantly, he’ll protect the Order until death.

After a few minutes, as I’m preparing to leave, my heart races as Summer walks into the room, shutting the door behind her. Her lips are pursed, and her tight outfit leaves little to the imagination.

Mikael simmers in my blood, settling close to the surface at her arrival. The heat of him cools when I give him a stern warning not to overstep, especially not with my colleagues just outside and Dr. Garcia down the hall.

I should shut him out, but I’m becoming more comfortable with his presence in my head. I’m reluctant to admit it, but he’s making me more whole. The twinges of emotional bursts he gives me, some of which I’ve never truly experienced. Yet I still sense a foreign substance, as if some of those emotions belong to someone else—something more powerful and much more appealing.

I settle back into my chair and raise my eyes to meet hers, adjusting my glasses so I can get a good look at her. A wave of Mikael’s anger pushes into my peripheral vision. I keep my voice even and arch my brows, enjoying the electric current of emotions flowing through me.

My tongue slides across my lips. “Hi, pretty girl.” Not my words, not my voice. I’m not in control.

She gives me a sharp look, and my sight goes blurry, like my glasses are causing it. I take them off and she is a vision of perfection. For reasons I’ll never understand, I’m as blind as a bat, so when I’m wearing my glasses, I don’t think Mikael can actually see anything, his view is distorted. So when I can see without my glasses, I know that’s when I’m not in control.

Summer stands with her arms crossed and her bright red lips pursed.

My jaw ticks as dark thoughts ripple through me, and I have to admit the images of Summer sliced up are starting to turn me on.

That power pulses again. That growing fragment, I dare now call a split. One I haven’t yet killed, and I’m not sure I want to.

I have a theory about the split…that perhaps it’s taking away some of Mikael’s unimpeded anger. That perhaps the split is Mikael’s anger, and I want to see what happens to it.

She nibbles on her bottom lip, twirling a piece of her white locks. My eyes move to her throat as she swallows, and I shove Mikael down to the fiery pits of hell that are the inner workings of my mind to keep him at bay.

His primal instincts for murder are so strong, it’s overwhelming. His constant arousal at the thought of blood…

Feral darkness.

Summer’s hand moves to her throat, seeing my reaction to her. As if she knows instinctively what’s waiting just beneath my skin.

I lean back in my chair and study her reactions. The uptick of her breath, the pulse of her throat. Her eyes narrow, and all I can think about is slicing them out. I’m fully aware these are not my thoughts.

I blink a few times as my vision swirls once more, and I place my glasses back on and again, she’s clear. Mikael starts screaming inside. Luckily, he can’t see her with the same level of clarity I can.

Summer taps her toe and frowns, shaking her head, as if she can see the tug-of-war playing out in my eyes. The facade is over…and I have no reason to hide anymore.

“Summer…” I say carefully and wrap my hands around the back of my head, watching her. The same way I watched her last night.

The intensity that surrounds her is palatable, like a little bomb ready to explode. A smile hints at my lips, but I’m also not sure what she is going to do at this moment.

“You…” she says with venom lacing her voice, “are a liar.”

I rise and carefully step toward her, and she doesn’t flinch. Not a single tell that she’s frightened.

“And what am I lying about, pretty girl?” I enunciate the pretty girl, knowing it will confuse her.

She tilts her head and parts her perfect lips, and I slowly close the distance between us. “You’re lying about everything,” she breathes.

I take a step closer, and she shuts her eyes.

As I suspected, Summer isn’t a rational person. She’s hiding a darkness inside her I understand all too well…and that’s the side I want to see.

The thought of me choosing another victim doesn’t sit well with her. She hates herself for it, and she hates how much she wants me.

“Why did you kill her instead of me?” she says through gritted teeth. She holds her breath as I slide my hand near her ear, pressing her into the door. It’s not fear cascading out of her eyes as I move my hand near the curve of her waist and lock the door.

She leans her head back as I press my other hand near her other ear, caging her in. “Jealousy looks unbelievably sexy on you, baby.”

Her lips part as I lean my head to get a whiff of her. She smells of lilacs and summer wind.

Her eyes open, and I can see now just how distraught she is. The confusion is suffocating her, because it’s clear what she should do, but she can’t do it. The mind control we have over her is too powerful. Her body can’t resist us, even if her brain is telling her to run.

“I hate you,” she breathes. “I hate that I want you. I hate myself when I’m with you.”

I gently grab a piece of her hair, and she hitches a breath. “Don’t lie, Summer,” I tease, pressing my lips to her neck, nuzzling her. “I think you rather enjoy me.”

She shakes her head. “I have no idea who or what you are anymore.”

A burst of emotion overcomes me, and while I maintain control, the lines between me and him are blurred. Nefarious ideas take over my thoughts; his memories of watching her as a young girl infiltrate my mind.

I reach over and tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. “It’s me, Summer. You know who I am.”

My hand moves to her shirt, down to the swell of her breast, appreciating her heartbeat.

She presses her hands over mine, stopping me, as if that would stop me from taking what I want. “Why are you lying to everyone, Lincoln?”

I pull away and her eyes flash, keenly aware of how close she is to me.

“Define lying. I’m curious as to what your definition is.”

She narrows her eyes, keeping a steady gaze. “Who is Mikael?” she whispers.

My lip curls into a snarl as he infuses with me. While I’m enjoying some of the emotions he invokes, I dislike hearing his name from her lips. I’m also not sure how she knows his name. Perhaps she knows a lot more than I give her credit for.

I keep my hand on the nape of her neck and trace my finger up her skin. The pieces of him are still lingering within.

“Mikael lives inside my head,” I growl. “And I’m the thin blanket between you and death. I’m the only reason Mikael hasn’t killed you twenty times over.”

Finally, she trembles, and a small squeak leaves her lips. “I shouldn’t have come here,” she says, and her hand finds the doorknob as if I’m actually going to let her leave.

I watch the bob of her throat as she swallows. Her body shifts and a sweet aroma radiates out of her. The scent of her fear, the smell of her arousal.

I bite my lip and keep my hands on either side of her, pinning her in and catching my breath. “Well, you did come to see me, and I gave you every chance in the world not to.”

She’s quiet as a church mouse and I keep my gaze down, but I can sense her watching me curiously.

“What do you want to ask me, Summer? It’s on the tip of your tongue, so out with it.”

She shifts beneath me. “How many women have you killed?”

I blink at her a couple of times and push my glasses up my nose. “Precisely none.”

Truth. I answered her question truthfully because she didn’t ask the right one.

Her breath falters and she pauses before she says, “How many women has he killed?”

Well, that’s another question entirely.

I pause before saying, “He’s a psychopath, Summer. Do you really want the answer to that question?”

I stare down at her and my vision flickers as it does whenever we are around her. We fuse into one. That fragment is spinning around like a wild banshee, affecting both of us in ways I can’t even fathom.

She pulls her hand to her mouth and tears well in her eyes, as if she is only now realizing what I truly am.

“Do you want to kill me right now?”

I snap back to myself when I hear her heart beating so hard. I suppress the hot twinge engulfing me as I focus my attention on her lips. I grab her hand and interlace her fingers with mine and move it to the painful erection I’ve developed in the past two minutes.

She gasps and I whisper in her ear, “Do you feel this?” Her delicate fingers graze my erection. “Do you understand how much I don’t want to kill you?”

She opens her lips and breathes heavily. I lean down and kiss her. I smile into her mouth as she moves her hands to the back of my neck and pulls me in. Summer Landry is officially the most fascinating girl I’ve ever encountered.

She has emotions—clearly, lots of them—just not the ones you’d expect being the target of someone like me.

She moans softly as I cup one of her breasts. She leans against the wall, pressing her knee into me like the little tease she is. Her heart rate is beating uncontrollably now, knowing she can’t resist me.

She tastes as delicious as she looks, and I’m tempted to rip off her clothing and fuck her right here, and there is nothing stopping me.

Certainly not any moral compass.

I grab her by her ass and lift her, moving her to my desk and angling her so I can get better traction between our bodies. I keep kissing her and he starts to take over, but I pull him back, wanting every second of this for myself.

A fierce battle of our psyches rages within me, each fighting for dominance while being intimate with her. I’m able to snuff him out, push him down, and untangle him from my veins, but it takes every ounce of my energy.

I move her hair out of the way and kiss her ivory neck. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to do this?” Her chest rises and falls so rapidly.

I reach down and undo the buckle of my belt. Keeping our lips on each other, I grab my dick, positioning myself between her legs. Voices echo from outside my office door, then a small knock, which I ignore.

Fire burns inside me, making my fists clench. The only thing on my mind is the urge to have a physical connection with her. My fingers brush against the hem of her dress and her hand instinctively reaches for mine.

Feelings of rage and anger consume me. It’s my emotion, not his. This is that foreign entity I’ve been sensing…except, perhaps, it’s not foreign at all.

It’s me…my feelings are surfacing.

My fingers curl into her hips. “Lincoln.” She manages to pull off my lips long enough to capture a breath. “Please stop.”

I quirk my head and appreciate her eyes—a perfect mix of fear and desire. “I don’t want to stop,” I say, breathless.

I slip my hand up her dress and she opens her thighs, giving me access to her. I brush my lips against her cheek, wanting that perfect cunt.

“Who are you?” she finally whispers between our desperate kisses. “You have to explain yourself, Lincoln.”

I’m so fucking hungry for her, I’d ravish her with my eyes if she’d look at me, but she keeps her gaze down on her legs as she lifts them up and down my leg to distract herself. It’s smart of her; my vision starts blurring, shifting, morphing…twitching.

I suck in a breath and swallow down these chaotic desires. I’m stronger than this; I’m stronger than him.

“I understand you have questions, and when I’m inclined, I’ll give you answers. For now, you will have to trust that I don’t want to hurt you.”

Her eyes finally flick up to mine and her pupils dilate. “Trust you?” she hisses. “You killed a girl. You’re a murderer, and I shouldn’t even be here.”

I give her a deviant smile and cup her cheek. “Do not pretend that you care about anyone else other than me and you, baby. If you did, you wouldn’t be spreading your perfect legs for me right now, would you?”

“I won’t spread my legs for you anymore,” she says, clenching her fists. “I already told you to stop.”

I step back and take a calm, deep breath. “I’m not sure when you’re going to realize you have no control right now. I own your mind, Summer Landry. When I ask you to open your legs, you open your fucking legs.”

She draws in a quick breath, pulls back slightly, then regains her composure. Holding on to the desk, she softly curses. “I’ll scream. I’ll let everyone in this building know what you’re doing.”

I lean toward her ear and whisper, as I have so many times before, “Do it. Summer…scream right now. If you do, I’ll unleash him. And wasn’t it just last night you were professing your love for me? Didn’t you say you’d do anything for me?”

Her face contorts as if it pains her to do it, but she leans back and lifts her dress just over her thighs, spreading her gorgeous legs wide.

Something within me snaps.

A split second of true satisfaction washes over me as I look at her splayed out. He wasn’t the only one who whispered to her in her sleep the nights we stalked her room.

I was there, too.

I had a goal of seeing if it’s possible to have total mind control over someone.

Apparently, it is possible…

I slip my fingers around her lace and pull down her panties, slipping them down so they wrap around her thigh, and shove two fingers inside her. Her eyes widen, but she moans, arching her back.

Slowly, ever so slowly, I let Mikael back in. His fusion is the final touch I need, like I can truly do anything. Pure power hums through me. This novel sensation of feeling everything.

“Just relax, baby,” I breathe into her mouth, and for a moment, our air is intertwined.

She tenses, but I press my thumb over her clit, which calms her down. I rub my thumb in a circular motion, but she’s already glistening.

Mikael withers inside me, having his psychotic meltdown because I still have control. His emotional tantrum is pushing every button.

His voice echoes around me. Jagged and half-formed thoughts.

“So pretty.”

“Mine.”

“Mine.”

“Mine.”

I spend a few seconds admiring the cut Mikael gave her. He did it with such precision, such love.

“What does it feel like?” I ask her.

She arches her back and moans. “What does what feel like?” She can barely speak, her body shaking.

“The pleasure I’m giving you right now. Does it burn?”

Her cherry lips part and total fear radiates out of her eyes. The paradox between her brain and body, a burning desire driven by total manipulation.

She shouldn’t have feelings for me—everything about Summer and I is wrong, and that’s what makes it so special.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” I whisper, and she nods, knowing she can’t fight it.

Fighting it hurts.

Her pussy is already wet by the time I press inside her, and she is as amazing as I expected.

Mikael’s memory of fucking her all those years ago comes rushing back, as if it was my own. His tendrils grip me, they tug and latch so hard my world slowly shrinks and everything drifts. Everything softens. Everything goes black?—

I get utterly lost inside her. I fuck her so hard, so deeply on my desk. I can’t get close enough to her.

“Lincoln,” she murmurs, her arms wrapping around me, her lips tracing a path along my neck.

Her voice jolts me back from my brief lapse, bringing me back to reality and control.

“Lincoln…fuck,” she moans.

I don’t hold back and fuck her silly against my desk. I could have sex with her for hours, and it would still never be enough. Her legs wrap around me, squeezing her knees against my torso. She’s also trying to release some indescribable pressure as I pound her, and just as I’m about to come, dark laughter consumes my soul, bouncing off the walls.

Fuck… I will not let him have her. I press my hands on either side of her, but I can’t stop it.

I’m already gone.