Chapter Thirteen
Tuesday
I deserved a goddamn Oscar for the straight face I was able to keep through Patient Seventeen’s psych evaluation. My brain, my body—fuck, my whole world—was on fire. Those orderlies had seen Lauren. Which meant…
No. I had no clue what it meant.
I couldn’t just blame it on the pills this time. Too bad there was no time to unpack it.
One of the most dangerous men in the country was in my office, bound and masked as I’d fallen into an alternate Silence of the Lambs parody.
If I let my guard down, he’d eat me alive. And somehow, I believed his Houdini remark. The mask may not stop him from gobbling me up if he resolved to do so. By the dark hunger gleaming bright in his steely eyes, he would.
He saw me as a particularly delicious meal, surely.
I hated how that had my thighs clenching, forbidden thoughts swirling like a dangerous storm at the back of my troubled mind.
No matter how much I lied to myself that his face was obscure—that stranger coincidences happened all the time—there was no denying that his face was the one from my dreams.
I set down my pencil and flattened my shaking hand on my legal pad to steady it. It would be a mistake to show any weakness, and I was too distracted to take notes anyway.
“How long have you been here?” I asked.
“Feels like forever. Time means nothing here.”
“How old are you? Your birthdate is missing from your file.”
A bitter cackle escaped him. “I imagine a lot of things are missing from my file, Dr. Beckett.”
Unease settled in my bones. “Why did you kill your father?”
“Because he was an evil bastard.”
“And why did you eat him?”
Something I could only parse as amusement glittered behind his eyes. “Eat him? Is that what the story is now? Funny.”
“I don’t think it’s funny at all. It’s why you’re here. You’re a dangerous criminal. But if we can get you the proper medication, and I can find the papers on your case, we could perhaps make an appeal to the court, and maybe you don’t have to die in this horrible place.”
“Wake up, Doc. No one is getting out of this place alive.”
His gravelly drawl, so low it was nearly a constant growl, seeped into my blood and spread through my system like a drug.
Just like in my dreams.
With a deep inhale, my eyes fluttered shut as I tried and failed to collect my nerves.
At first glance, it was easy to believe this man was a dangerous killer.
I’d been prepared for that. What I hadn’t been prepared for was how deeply intelligent he seemed.
Beneath his messy hair, weary eyes, and the jaded spirit of a man reduced to fewer rights than an animal, there was a cunning, well-educated man.
I both hated and craved the way he looked at me, as if I were the most interesting thing he’d ever laid eyes on. It was like he was evaluating me, and not the other way around.
“You’re not in your right mind,” I said as calmly as I could. “This is a mental asylum. Just like any other hospital, there is hope of regaining your freedom.”
“Dr. Beckett. You’re as na?ve as you are beautiful.
There’s no asylum here at Saint Bart’s. I might be the one in the straitjacket, but at the end of the day, we’re all damned.
You’d better figure that out fast, or you’ll be eaten up in a place like this.
” He smacked his lips hard, grinning beneath his mask like the psycho killer he was.
“And I promise you, I’ll be the first to take a bite. ”
Unwanted heat swirled low in my belly, making my thighs clench.
This is not the same man in my dreams.
Logically, I knew this in my mind. My body wasn’t getting the message. It had been forever since I’d had sex, but that was no reason for this kind of physical reaction. It was like I was in heat.
I’d come to Saint Bartholomew’s for redemption. Now here I was, lusting for my first patient—the most dangerous one here at that.
Seventeen’s intense glower cut me to the quick, as if he could see straight through me. “You’re having a mental breakdown, aren’t you?”
“I’m a millennial buried in debt, my entire life is a mental breakdown.”
My attempt at brushing off his terrifyingly accurate assessment had his jaw tensing, and thick tendons straining in his neck. “You’re a good little actress. But I can taste your fraying nerves, just as well as the arousal pooling in your panties.”
My fist clenched so tight my pencil snapped, and the slits of Seventeen’s eyes glowed with malevolent arrogance.
“Really, Doctor? Lusting for your patient?” He clicked his tongue in mock admonishment. “You look so innocent, but beneath your shine, you’re a filthy sinner, just like the rest of us trapped here. Aren’t you?”
There was no way he knew that I was aroused by his intelligent yet cruel eyes and the way they scraped over me like I was a rare bug pinned beneath a microscope.
Tension electrified my office, and suddenly the room felt so much smaller. Like the walls were closing in on me.
He was just trying to psych me out. And to my distress, it was working.
Calm down and breathe, Tuesday. This was only the first session. I couldn’t allow it to end with him thinking he’d gotten to me. If he thought me weak, he’d never open up.
“What was your major at Brown?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“I believe the things we’re passionate about always matter. Even if you’re not using your degree.”
He expelled a jarring cackle. “Passion? More like pressure. I wanted to fuck and drink and make art.”
I perked up in my seat. Now we were getting somewhere. “What kind of art?”
“I like to paint. Or, I did.”
“You don’t anymore?”
“The hospital barely provides us with edible food, let alone art supplies. However, I’ve recently done a portrait in my cell. On the wall. One of the orderlies supplied the paint. You should come and see it sometime.”
It was an innocent enough answer, but for some reason, his words had my gut twisting into knots. “And I take it your parents wouldn’t allow you to pursue art as a career?”
“My father wouldn’t allow it. He wanted me to go into medicine. Just like him and his father before that.”
“Medicine? What was your specialty?”
“Neurology.”
I nearly swallowed my tongue in shock. “You’re a neurologist?”
“Was a neurologist. And fuck you for sounding so surprised.”
How could a piece of information like that have been missing from the black file?
It wouldn’t help much with his treatment, but it would have been helpful beforehand to know I was speaking with a doctor.
Especially a neurologist. Both psychiatry and neurology were closely-knit, with one focusing on mental health while the other on physical aspects of the brain itself.
No wonder he sounded so astute and cunning. He was. And the sly bastard knew it.
“Now you have to tell me your last name.”
His expression hardened again, made chilling by the leather mask. “I told you what to call me.”
“But you’re a doctor.”
“Do I look like I still have a medical license to you? Though if it’s my medical opinion you’re after, I think you’re the one in need of an examination, Dr. Beckett. I’m happy to do it.”
I caught another wolfish grin through the bars of his leather muzzle, and he wriggled, the chains wrapped around his arms clicking. “But you’ll need to come closer. I’ll need the use of my hands.”
“Do you think I’m stupid?”
I hated it when men underestimated my intelligence. It happened too much in school and residency.
“Not at all. I almost wished you were. Would make the nasty little secret Rook’s keeping from you much easier to swallow.”
“What secret?”
“I’ll tell you, but I’m going to need something in return.”
My heart fluttered at the wicked inflection in his words. “What do you want?”
“I want to show you something. But you’ll need to remove my restraints and take me out of this straitjacket.”
“Out of the question. You’ll bite me,” I said, breaking the burning silence.
Chains rattled, and straps groaned as he leaned forward as much as his restraints would allow. He was giving me his complete and utter attention, leaving me in a fog of disquieting awe.
“Would you like me to bite you, Dr. Beckett?” His suggestive rasp sent an electric thrill through me, zapping straight to my core, leaving me red and flustered.
I wasn’t hiding my discomfort so well anymore, and I got the sense that he was reveling in every moment of it.
“I’m going to have to pass. I’m pretty attached to my nose.”
“Oh, you’re funny. So what’s it gonna be, Doc? I’ll let you in on the dirty details of the green poison he shoots up all his minions with.”
“The Treatment?”
“How many doses has he given you?”
All the moisture evaporated from my mouth and caused my voice to crack. “O-one.”
“I almost hope that you’ll survive both. Normally, I don’t give a shit when new souls break under the stress.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The mutation reaches their brains and they…” He trailed off, and I knew he was leaving me in suspense on purpose to bait me into taking his deal.
“I’m not taking off your chains or your jacket.”
The look he gave me might have been enticing if it wasn’t for the leather and steel muzzling his defined jaw and taunting mouth. “Have it your way. You’ll find out eventually, after the second injection.”
“If there’s something I should know, you’ll tell me, or—”
“Or what? There’s no threat that’s going to work on me, Doc. You can’t do anything to me that hasn’t been done before.”
There was a dark bend to his tone that suggested he didn’t believe his own words. I took mental note of that. “I’m going to prescribe you medication that will help you ease the symptoms of your schizophrenia.”
He bared his teeth, eyes flashing with anger. “Figured you were like the rest of them. Keep me sedated so I can’t fight back when you come for me in the night.”
I frowned. “No one is coming for you. We’re here to help you.”
“Were you trying to help me when you crawled into my bed with the face of my father?”
“Now you’re talking complete nonsense.”
He paused, head canting and black hair spilling in messy locks over his insidious eyes. The high collar on his straitjacket stretched to his jaw, and the topmost leather strap around his throat groaned as tendons and muscles flexed in his neck. “Am I, or are you just woefully uninformed?”
My head swirled, like a shaken snowglobe. This bastard was charismatic, cold, calculating…and unequivocally deranged.
“This secret you have, I want you to tell me. I’m not going to release you from your restraints. Tell me what else you want.”
At that, his eyes lit up. He knew he had me on the hook. So much for not taking his bait, but I needed some answers to the questions swirling around Patient Seventeen, my strange dreams, Lauren’s ghost, Saint Bart’s and its noseless director.
There was something dark at play here, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that some of it was connected.
“I want to get removed from the isolation ward and put back into general pop. On level two.”
“Can’t do that either.”
“Why not?” he growled, teeth gnashing in frustration behind his mask.
“Because Rook has you in isolation for a reason. The same reason why I can’t unchain you. You’re dangerous. To everyone, yourself included.”
“Fine. Lean back. Spread your legs and show me your pussy.” His tongue wedged between the bars in his mask, teasing a slow lick up the breath-fogged metal. “That’s my final offer.”
I ripped my eyes away from Patient Seventeen—the first time since I removed the bag from his head—and settled my focus on the window to the unkempt lawn.
I rubbed my sweaty palms into my skirt and began to count beneath my breath to center myself.
“One, two, three. One, two, three.”
“Are you alright, Doctor?”
I hated the smug smile in his deep and silt-smooth cadence. “I’m fine. I’m just… My head is whirling. It’s the altitude; I haven’t adjusted yet.”
“It’s not the altitude.”
My gaze whipped back to lock with his. The secrets roiling behind his eyes kindled a burning curiosity within me. Deep down, I’d known it wasn’t the altitude making me feel this way, maybe it wasn’t even the pills.
Meanwhile, my chest was inexplicably heavy with a twisted urge to do exactly as Patient Seventeen said because, whether he was crazy or not, he might be the only one who’d tell me the truth.
“You look so damn delectable like that, Dr. Beckett.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re damn near drowning in contemplation.” His eyes were stark with a disturbing combination of lust and violence. “I’d give my right testicle to know what’s running through your head right now.”
“And I’d give your left testicle to know what’s going through yours.”
“How about we leave my balls where they are for now and you show me your cunt instead? Then, I’ll tell you everything that’s going through my head.”