Page 30 of No Asylum Here

“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.