Chapter 10 Knight Moves
Knight Moves
Time is nature’s way of keeping everything from happening all at once.
— JOHN ARCHIBALD WHEELER
COLLINS
Laurel once told me the dark side of psychology is far more nuanced, that we have to be delicate when wading through the deep waters of the mind.
When I asked her about the light side, she smiled and said, “What light side?”
When it comes to the mind, there is no region untouched by shadows—only varying depths of darkness.
Some run too deep to tread.
Delving into psychotherapy to explore a patient’s past requires patience and a tactful, respectful approach. Peeling back layers of trauma is not unlike a burn victim suddenly recovering feeling in damaged nerve endings. We need to take care not to shatter the mind.
But we also have to guard ourselves from being infected by the muck we wade through.
Sensitization can work both ways.
Just try not to be so damn tempting, angel.
Orion’s warning echoes through my mind, sparking an enticing thrill at the memory of his rough tone. Confirmation enough that I’m getting under his skin.
Meanwhile, Dr. Eugene Prescott is seated on the beige sofa in my office. Dirty-blond hair neatly trimmed and combed back, clean-shaven and smelling of expensive cologne, he wears his fine academic attire like a statement.
He keeps his phone held at an angle where he can view the screen as I take a seat in the wingback chair across from him. “Banner set you up nice here,” he says, giving the office an appraising scan. “Keeping you busy, apparently.”
I offer a practiced smile, hearing what’s implied beneath. I’ve been given a nice position.
Anything that is given can be taken away.
“I don’t care much for decoration.” My art prints line the wall, unhung. The shelves are sparsely filled with books that were already here when I arrived.
“I’m sure dealing with Night’s absurdity is keeping you plenty occupied,” he says with a baiting edge. “So, what can I do to help, Dr. Holbrook?”
“Well first, thank you for always being so cooperative. Especially in regards to this matter.”
“Of course.” He nods assuredly.
I lace my fingers together over my lap and cross my ankles, not missing the way his eager gaze slips over my legs. If this were a real session, I might call him out in reprimand.
But I’m here to wade around in the muck.
“Let’s start with your relationship with Dr. Night,” I begin. “How closely have you worked together over the past year?”
He expels a terse breath. “You don’t work closely with Night,” he states, snide.
“Do you know he hardly ever leaves the observatory? I think he even sleeps there. He requires everyone to prep—meaning disinfect every surface and themselves—for an hour before entering the facility. And the thing with the gloves… I can’t tell you how many projects have been delayed due to his contamination issues. ”
I reach for a folder on the table and bring it to my lap. “Is that why you went against his directive not to shut down the particle accelerator? Not wanting to face a setback?”
His features harden. He relaxes back into the sofa and rests his ankle across his knee. Taking a new approach, he says, “Look, like I’ve mentioned before, the science is complicated. You’ll just have to trust me on this. I was making the right call.”
I part the folder and flip to a page. “From what I understand—and forgive me, I’m not a scientist,” I meet his dark eyes briefly with a sweet smile, “but abruptly shutting down the accelerator causes unstable particle decay and can result in high levels of radiation. All that energy needs to be carefully dissipated first, correct?” I look up and tilt my head.
“Maybe it’s good we’re not dealing with worse consequences. ”
Mouth pinched in a tight smile, he runs a hand down his cobalt tie.
“He uploaded malicious software to jeopardize the unveiling and make me look bad, but again—” he raises a hand “—the science is complicated.” His gaze slides down my legs, more obvious this time.
“I’d be happy to show you the linear accelerator, go over the basics for your evaluation.
But I’d need access to the observatory outside of Night to do that, of course. ”
Message received, I sweeten my smile. “Of course.”
I set the file aside and cross my legs, giving him a peek at the slit along my thigh. I don’t need Dr. Prescott as an enemy. He’s been placed near Orion to keep tabs on him. Which means he’s been watching him closely for the past year. There’s a chance he could be useful.
“That could be arranged once we—” Without warning, the office door swings open, halting me mid-sentence. “I’m in session,” I say, my eyes clashing with the heat in his. “Dr. Night.”
Orion darkens the threshold like the night itself, taking up all the air I need to fill my lungs. He closes the door behind him, and the sharp snick of the latch firing home sounds loud in the tense stillness.
“Shit. What is he doing here?” Prescott directs an accusatory glare my way before he stands opposite the man dressed in all black.
Orion looks only at me. “You said to be in your office today.”
The way he says this, so matter-of-factly, I have to curb a smile. I don’t point out that I told him this days ago. “Dr. Prescott, I assure you this is a misunderstanding. Dr. Night’s appointment isn’t until later.” I relay the last part directly to Orion with a slight widening of my eyes.
An arresting smile curves his full lips before he defiantly removes his leather jacket and hangs it on the wall hook.
“I think a joint session could be therapeutic. Work out some aggression.” His gloved hands fist at his sides as he smirks at Prescott.
“Nothing was really resolved the last time we were in a room together, was it, Eugene?”
A flash of fear registers in Prescott’s expression. “You know what, it’s fine. I have some pressing matters to tend to anyway.” He swipes up his phone and heads toward the door, glancing back once to say, “But my offer stands, Dr. Holbrook.”
The door shuts, and I level Orion with a severe glare. “I don’t understand why you want to make things difficult for me.”
A flash of something uninhibited ignites behind the blue-green current of his eyes.
He folds his arms over his black oxford, a smug grin slanting his mouth.
“Making things easy for you wasn’t stipulated in the parameters of your extortion, starling.
Besides, you won’t get what you need from him.
Prescott’s a narcissistic sycophant who’d say anything to steal my position. ”
I uncross and recross my legs, deliberate and slow. “Yet you did try to push him out of a window.”
Orion doesn’t remove his eyes from mine. “Next time I won’t try. What offer?” he demands, dismissing my remark.
I rise from the chair and return the file to my desk, slipping it behind my open laptop before I face him. “To further my eval, I need to see the observatory. Since Dr. Prescott has already been so helpful implementing my protocols, he offered to show me around and explain some of the equipment.”
In his own slow and deliberate way, Orion swipes his thumb across his bottom lip, eyes stealing down my body before his gaze solders to mine. “That won’t happen.”
“He was more than eager to give me what I need,” I say, driving the metaphorical knife deeper.
Something dark and menacing surfaces in his expression, and my skin sparks everywhere his heated gaze touches. “If you want to test the theory of whether Prescott can fly, then by all means, take him up on his offer.”
His possessive tone coasts down the curve of my spine, inducing a shiver. “You don’t sound at all disturbed, Orion.”
“And you don’t sound at all like a psychiatrist right now, Collins, but here we both are.”
“Here we both are.” A smile breaks across my mouth. “Do people talk like this?”
“We talk like this.”
His intense gaze holds mine captive, his eyes so vibrant and blazing, I’m breathless in the wake of their unhurried descent over my body.
And I study him right back. The way he flexes his long fingers. Shifts his stance. Rolls his head along his shoulders to work out his neck. He’s not wearing a tie, the top buttons of his shirt undone. A turbulent ocean rages beneath his stony veneer.
“Dr. Night, you seem…bothered.” I smile as I echo the words he once said to me back at him.
“You made damn sure of that.” His tense frame practically vibrates. “Unfortunately, I have a curious nature that’s not easily pacified.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Is this your way of agreeing to therapy,” I say questioningly.
He cocks his chin. “And if it is.”
“I won’t be gentle.”
“Fuck, I hope not.”
I bite the corner of my lip to hold back a smile. Orion might as well be trying to impress me with his flash pattern. Aggressive. Possessive. A primal alpha male marking my office as he prowls toward the sofa to claim his territory.
He casually folds his tall, leanly cut frame onto the seat, and I have to refrain from touching the place where my heart knocks like percussion against my breastbone. After the sharp pain subsides, I saunter to my chair and sit across from him, cross my legs.
When his direct gaze targets the slit in my skirt, a pulse of heat descends between my thighs. It feels nothing like when Prescott did so just moments ago.
“Tell me the last time you were intimate.”
“Intimate,” he repeats, his gaze flicking up to touch mine.
“Sexual intimacy,” I clarify, just to goad him.
“Fucked.”
I try not to blink as I hold his gaze. “Fucked.”
He swipes a gloved hand over his jaw. “Since before the accident.”
His confession compresses the cool air between us. It’s been over six years since Orion last had sex. This knowledge stirs something darkly tempting in my veins, the power of it seductive.
With a careful approach, I ease into the tenuous silence. “The person you lost,” I say delicately, “the one Banner alluded to before. Was that her?”