Page 32 of No Asylum Here

“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.”

Chapter Fourteen

Patient Seventeen

While my body was held down by chains, the darkness inside my mind ran wild.

Tuesday was everything I wished she wasn’t: an unknowing victim of Rook’s sick games. But regardless of her cluelessness about what this place was, she hadn’t come here by accident.

You had to have done something they saw as bad.

As much as I hated it here, I couldn’t pretend it wasn’t what I deserved.

I’d done something bad.

Very, very bad.

My first dream of Tuesday was fuzzy, but I wouldn’t forget what she’d told me.

She’d killed someone.

Doubt had my eyes narrowing on my new psychiatrist. At first glance, she seemed too sweet and sensible to be a killer. But there was no hiding that wicked gleam behind her eyes. Not from me.

I suspected part of her wanted to obey me—to spread herself for me as I asked. Whether it was just so I’d spill my secrets, or because that bit of mayhem within her was drawn to me like a magnet—I didn’t care. Whatever the reason, it had her leaning back on the love seat with a furious blush burning her cheeks. She parted her legs, her gaze foisting from mine. Palpable shame radiated from her, making the air buzz with delicious intensity.

“Satisfied?” she snapped.

I grinned. “Hardly. Pull your skirt up.”

Tuesday’s blush deepened. A rebuttal burned in her glare, but instead of firing it, she shuffled in her seat and pulled her pencil skirt up to mid-thigh.

My mouth watered as I caught a glimpse of her cotton panties, white and thin enough to just make out the cleft of her center.

She was soaking wet.

The thin piece of fabric covering her pussy was so soaked, it was nearly see-through.

I licked my lips. It was nearly torture ripping my attention from under her skirt to her eyes, yet I managed it. Worth it to see her beet-red face and how she was failing to hide her emotions now.

“There. Now, what’s this secret? And if I find out you’re lying⁠—”