I removed my lab coat and his black, greedy eyes sank into my tattoos. The further his stare lingered, his emotions intensified into pure, undeniable lust. Warmth shot over my bare skin straight down to my centre, my body humming in expectation.
“Stop looking at me like that,” I snapped. My physical response was always in conflict when we were together.
Psycho gave a smug smile. “You’re stripping off the wrong garment, Doctor.”
“It serves a purpose.”
“What purpose? To distract me with your feminine charm?”
“For some reason, I don’t think that would work.”
Psycho wanted me. I had no doubt. However, I could also feel his rigid will and ironclad resolve. Psycho did not trust me, and would never let his idled desire overshadow the potential threat I posed. He wouldn’t budge. Not without incentive or compromise.
I tilted my head in contemplation, assessing my next move. How was I supposed to gain information from a man that would never trust me?
“Why did you attack Zack yesterday? His face was unrecognisable. Did he take the last sandwich?”
“I don’t like people touching what’s mine,” Psycho said.
Although we’d had minimal contact or conversation, Psycho was shockingly honest. Every word that he said in my presence rang with truth.
I leant forward, crossing my arms over the desk surface. “You have a reputation, Psycho. Not just in Oakview, but in Junction City. Did you have the same reputation in the Ludus Maximus, I wonder?”
Psycho mirrored my actions, leaning in to meet me halfway. I ignored the innate warning and continued with my outspoken inquisition.
I lifted a hand to trace the air above his arm, not quite making contact. “Rumours say that you have an alter ego buried within you. That you only let him out when you want to destroy or inflict pain.” Psycho’s eyes narrowed on my fingers, his muscles tensed to the brink of snapping. “That isn’t true though. I understand now. There’s more underneath it all, isn’t there? You’re not quite whole,” I whispered the statement with hardly enough breath to formulate actual words.
He'd heard. Psycho slammed his fists against the surface, the table vibrating from the resounding echo.
My brow lifted at his outburst. “It isn’t a threat.”
I needed more insight into his core. I was desperate for a glimpse into his inner sanctum, and for that, I required physical touch.
When I reached for his wrist, his hand whipped out to tighten around my throat. “Don’t fucking touch me,” he seethed through his teeth.
Psycho’s entire entity shoved forth with aggressive assault, my Variant flaring to life. When I identified his ardent need, Psycho shoved me back, my neck tender from his grasp.
Without contemplating the consequences, I pulled a vial from my pocket, the stark red of blood shining brightly in the grey room.
I twisted the thin glass between us. “This contains an elixir that can counteract the suppressant barrier surrounding this asylum.”
“This gives you access to your Variant?” Psycho asked, his attention never deviating from my hand.
“Not its full effect, but yes. You will gain access to your Variant for a short period of—”
Psycho pulled on my wrists, hard and fast. My top half crushed to the desk, arms extended, my wrists held firmly together with one of his large, unrelenting hands. With the other, he leisurely brought a cigarette to his mouth and lit the tip.
“Stop playing with me, Golden Girl, or you’re going to get hurt. I’m not your whore that you can bend over and fuck whenever you please.”
“I can feel the battle within you, Psycho. This will help.”
“Why should I not shove this vial down your fucking throat?” He snatched the ampule from my limp fingers and examined the contents. “For all I know, this shit is laced with Devil’s Flower, and my days have come to an end. Why should I trust you?”
“You shouldn’t. You’d be a fool if you did.”
“Who are you? What do you want?” His interest was genuine. He was legitimately asking, searching for an honest answer. Any reservation I held dwindled before his sincere intentions.
I tugged on his hold, using his tight grip as leverage. Twisting my body upward, I lurched over the desk to crash into his lap, my legs straddling his hips.
Psycho hid his surprise well, exhaling smoke directly into my face. He released his hold to band his arms tightly around my waist, nil room for escape.
For this mission to be accomplished, his trust was a requirement. What I hadn’t anticipated was me wanting that trust. I desperately wanted him to believe in me—for me—and to gain that I had no choice but to make my own sacrifice.
I slowly raised my hands and placed them on either side of his face, restraining my fingers to tangle in his midnight blue hair. My Variant soaked my skin in blissful warmth, as if I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
Gazing directly into his boundless eyes, I gave him a glimpse of myself in return.
“My name…my true name is Micah King. And what I want is what this world revolves around. Revenge.”
I reluctantly extricated myself from his lap and turned for the door, away from his grasp, vacant of his touch. He didn’t stop me.
Chapter 8Psycho
Micah King. Ever since she had uttered those two words, I couldn’t stop pondering her existence. The admittance was undeniable; the significance of giving me her name, trusting me with her identity. I couldn’t fathom why she would give up such valuable information.
King…it rang a distant bell in my memory. The name once belonged to one of the four main powerhouses of Junction City’s underworld. The brutal sacking of the Sovereign was legendary, and to this day it was only whispered in warning.
Besides old rumours, my knowledge was limited. As the Sovereign was wiped off the map, I was a minor fledgling fighter in the Caverns, not yet inducted into the Ludus Maximus.
