Chapter 2
CHAPTER
TWO
Rowan gritted her teeth as they strode past the intake room.
The room where—if her boss hadn’t demanded Delilah be brought immediately to her—Rowan would currently be performing a thorough search of Delilah and her belongings.
And where Rowan would have stripped Delilah of her sinful outfit and transferred her into bland scrubs.
But no. The facility director, Adele, wanted to see Delilah first to go over the rules.
It’ll be fine, Rowan. It’s not like she’ll have anything she shouldn’t. Not coming from the prison.
And that was how Rowan found herself leading Delilah straight through the metal detectors and down the sullen, fluorescent-lit hallway to her boss’s office.
Delilah’s gaze never shifted off of Rowan, burning into the side of her face like she was trying to dissect every detail of her tanned cheeks, thin lips, and hazelnut eyes.
Like she was trying to bore into Rowan’s brain and memorize her thoughts. Or destroy them.
Rowan’s grip on Delilah’s arm was firm and steady.
The metal chain linking her handcuffs clinked as they walked.
Her heels clicked loudly, echoing against the walls.
Rowan’s boots scuffed the pristine tile floor, and the two flanking security guards' heavy breathing was unwelcome in the tense silence.
“You’re a cute one,” Delilah purred a few minutes into their walk, apparently deeming the silence over. Her sultry tone sent shivers up Rowan’s spine. It was the first time Rowan had heard the voice in person. “What’s your name?”
Darting a quick look, Rowan side-eyed her.
Despite their close proximity and the fact that Rowan had a steel grip on Delilah’s bicep, she hadn’t met her gaze since they’d left the receiving room.
Rowan opted not to answer, knowing that Delilah was, without a doubt, the kind of killer who fucked with her victims. And the type of person who loved a challenge.
“Aren’t you going to search me?” Delilah asked when it was clear Rowan wasn’t responding.
The way she said the word “search” set Rowan’s blood on fire.
It was rife with implication. “I know it’s standard procedure when a new patient arrives.
Or was it that you liked the outfit too much to make me change so soon? ”
Rowan side-eyed Delilah again but didn’t bother responding.
“What if I told you I have a weapon?” Delilah whispered, leaning in. Rowan clenched her jaw, her gaze darting around, debating the necessity of using an empty patient room for a perfunctory search.
Rowan stopped without another thought and shoved Delilah into the closest unoccupied room, silencing the officers following them with a look and shutting the door behind her.
Delilah raised a delicate eyebrow, taking in the overturned bed and empty desk.
It was clear this was not an intake room, clear that Rowan had let Delilah manipulate her.
“Turn around. Hands on the wall and spread your legs,” Rowan ordered, ignoring the way her heart rate increased at the upward curve of Delilah’s lips as she so easily complied.
“I love a woman in charge,” Delilah said, throwing a seductive look over her shoulder and arching her back so the already tight skirt accentuated the curves of her ass more.
Rowan ignored the movement, pretending like this entire act had no effect on her in the slightest as she ran her hands up the sides of Delilah’s silk blouse, pressing into her ribs and sliding between her breasts.
She followed the standard outline for searches.
She’d done this hundreds of times with hundreds of patients.
None of them had felt like Delilah. Like the room was vibrating with tension so taut that a single breath could snap it.
Desire sparked through them, charged with electricity that Rowan was certain Delilah felt it too.
When she bent to slide her hands up Delilah’s legs, in between her muscular thighs, Delilah turned abruptly, trapping Rowan’s hands and bringing her crashing to her knees.
Delilah’s eyes flashed and the cuffs clinked as she grasped Rowan’s chin, tilting her face up before Rowan had even processed the development.
“I love breaking women in charge,” Delilah clarified with a smirk, her thumb running over Rowan’s bottom lip.
Adrenaline coursed through Rowan, heating her body and momentarily freezing her in place. It took her too long to speak, she knew that. She’d given Delilah another win. Rookie mistake.
“This is your only warning,” Rowan said, her voice dangerously low as she gripped Delilah’s thigh and pried her legs apart. “Do not do that again. And don’t touch me.”
She stood up slowly, dragging her hands along the insides of Delilah’s thighs.
She let herself linger until the stockings ended and she was touching bare skin, showing Delilah that she wasn’t bothered by any of it.
Rowan held Delilah’s gaze the entire time, refusing to break even as she pulled her hands back then unnecessarily thumbed over the waistband of Delilah’s skirt.
Delilah was toying with her, and Rowan would show her that she wouldn’t be intimidated.
Rowan hadn’t been paying attention to a single word coming out of Adele’s mouth since they arrived in her office.
Unsurprisingly, Delilah didn’t have any weapons on her, and now she was sitting temptingly, perched on the edge of the hard wooden chair in front of Adele’s shitty metal desk while Adele droned on about conduct and expectations—the same speech she gave to every new prisoner transfer when they arrived.
Stay out of trouble. Put even one toe out of line and it’s back in front of a judge to be shipped off to god knows where.
This was a compromise. This was to help them.
Don’t stray from designated areas—though, that one she might have skipped since Delilah would never be unattended.
Don’t touch the officers or other patients, etc.
It was a speech Rowan had heard hundreds, if not thousands, of times. But that wasn’t the reason for her drifting attention.
She wasn’t sure why Delilah had thought it necessary to bend over to look at something on Adele’s desk, but Rowan was moving before she even registered what was happening.
Her firm grip on Delilah’s shoulder as she forced her back down into the chair started a burning sensation from her hand all the way to her clit.
Delilah’s breathy gasp and seductive smile didn’t help one bit.
Delilah Watson was a serial killer, a certified genius, diagnosed psychopath, and, unfortunately, painfully attractive.
Something Rowan couldn’t help but notice as she forced herself to breathe normally.
She pointedly ignored Delilah’s focused attention until Adele finally—mercifully—dismissed them with a wave of her manicured hand.
The quiet of the hallway engulfed them once again as Rowan led Delilah down the wing that had been restricted solely for her—though calling it a “wing” was a bit of a stretch.
It was really only one hall. There was still no other patient in sight.
No nurses, doctors, janitors. Rowan, Delilah, and the two guards behind them were the only people there.
Rowan couldn’t begin to imagine the financial hit the hospital had taken when they cleared out the fifteen patients who used to reside there.
Luckily, most had been temporary and quickly discharged.
She could only assume the board was counting on making up the loss with the fame and notoriety of hosting a serial killer.
They claimed it’s for “safety” anyway. It looks good in the press.
Rowan saw the news with the reporters lauding the boards’ commitment.
It all tasted sour. They’d also decided that Delilah’s permitted human interaction would be restricted to Rowan, her therapist, and one rotating guard should Rowan be unavailable for any reason.
The two officers stationed at her door twenty-four seven would not be speaking to her. They were barely even allowed to look at her, sliding her food through a slot in the door to minimize escape attempts.
No one wanted to fall victim to Delilah Watson.
“Play time’s over,” Rowan announced when they reached Delilah’s new home.
The small, windowless, grey room that every patient was greeted with upon arrival included a single bed already made up with shitty bed sheets—the kind that wouldn’t be able to hold the weight of a person, should someone attempt something—a desk and chair, and overhead lights built into the ceiling.
Directly opposite from the bed was a doorless bathroom with a toilet, shower, and sink all crammed into the smallest space possible.
Basically, the room they were sticking Delilah in was one step short of a padded cell.
Aside from the hooks in the wall. There was one at the back of the room near Delilah’s new bed, and another between the bed and the desk, closer to the door.
These were only present in rooms where the patients had more of a tendency for violence.
A necessary precaution for what Rowan was about to do.
While Delilah inspected the sparse area, Rowan removed the belt holding her defensive weapons and radio, handing it to the officer waiting by the door.
Anticipation curled in her gut as the door clicked shut behind them, jolting Delilah’s attention back to Rowan and leaving them entirely alone. There was no escaping her now.
A predatory smile spread across Delilah’s face. “Alone at last.” Her smile only grew when Rowan slipped the key to Delilah’s cuffs off the ring on her belt loop. “What do you have planned for us, officer?”
What we should have done when you first got here.
Without a word, Rowan led Delilah to the far wall and unlocked one wrist, cuffing her to the closed hook embedded in the wall instead. Delilah watched with open interest while Rowan knelt down and unlocked both cuffs around her ankles before standing and taking two quick steps back.
“Strip,” Rowan ordered emotionlessly.
Delilah looked like Christmas had come early.
Her face lit up as she slowly unbuttoned her silk blouse with one hand, shimmying it down her shoulders and letting it catch on the cuff hooked to the wall.
Her red-lace bra matched her lipstick and was padded enough that she would have to remove that too.
But they both knew that already. Delilah’s lip twitched in amusement as she watched Rowan try not to look at her chest.
“I need help with the boots and stockings. Officer.” Delilah bit her lip, batting her eyelashes and looking seductively at Rowan. “Or… you could uncuff me all the way.”
“Other hand against the wall,” Rowan’s order came out as a harsh whisper, her insides scorching as Delilah’s free hand smacked loudly against the cement.
Rowan didn’t bother with restraining her further—a test, perhaps; an invitation. She was stronger than Delilah, could beat her if she tried anything, but she knew that wasn’t the reason. Delilah wouldn’t do anything. Not while she had Rowan exactly where she wanted her.
The tile floor was hard beneath her knee as she knelt in front of Delilah for the third time that day. The weight of Delilah’s gaze keeping her down, and their position too intimate, Rowan took one of Delilah’s booted feet onto her thigh and started untying the laces.
“This is so hot,” Delilah whispered, leaning back against the wall as Rowan worked too slowly, with fingers that almost felt numb.
She swallowed, refusing to rise to the bait this time.
She slid the boot off then carefully slipped her hands upward, feeling for where the scratchy stocking fabric ended and smooth skin began.
The contact was electric, fueling the blood pounding through Rowan’s veins when she skimmed Delilah’s bare thigh just under the edge of her skirt.
It took all the focus she possessed to hook her thumbs under the stockings and roll them down instead of continuing upward.
“You know,” Delilah hummed, breaking Rowan’s trance. “I should really know your name if you’re going to be undressing me like this.”
There was no reason not to tell Delilah her name—not exactly.
All the other patients knew it. Hell, she was on a first name basis with quite a few of the lifers and one or two of the regularly returning patients.
But there was just something about Delilah’s frustration at not getting what she wanted that made Rowan want to withhold it.
Something about making Delilah work to get the information out that stoked that flame inside her.
She was making Delilah fight for her. But then again, if Adele found out that Rowan was making Delilah’s life “difficult” then she’d be pissed.
And if Rowan wanted to stay in charge of Delilah, she couldn’t piss off the boss.
“Rowan.”
“Rowan,” Delilah repeated slowly, rolling the name around on her tongue, as if tasting it like a fine dessert. “Handsome.”
Rowan’s gaze snapped up. There was fire in Delilah’s eyes, and a knot weaved and twisted inside Rowan’s stomach, churning until sparks ignited throughout her body.
Delilah was the one to break the strange hold she’d claimed over Rowan’s nervous system.
She slowly removed the foot Rowan was clutching, the stocking falling the final few inches to the ground and replaced it with her still-booted foot.
Directly on Rowan’s chest. There was so much raw power flowing between them now that Delilah had laid claim to.
Rowan was quickly losing whatever game they were playing, even as she slowly undid the laces on Delilah’s boots.