21

There's only one thing possibly more embarrassing than almost confessing my lust for a killer at therapy with Dr Keller.

And it just happened to me.

Mike walked out on me during our date. Not even ten minutes into it.I guess hetook one look at me and made a run for it when I went to the bathroom.

I guess I don'texactlymake myself look approachable. The monochrome dark outfits, the dyed-black bob of my hair. I guess I thought one daytheright person might be able to slip pastby shields. But maybe I'm destined to be alone.

The rain is picking upandthe streets are emptying as Itake the long wayhome on foot. I pull my leather jacket tighter around me stubbornly, fuming witha mix ofanger and self-pity. I'm in no hurry to return to my empty apartment with its blank walls and endless silence. I don't want to be left alone with my thoughts right now.

I only agreed to go out with Mike to proveto myselfthat I'm capable of normalcy. A normal relationship witha normalguy. And look where that got me.

Worst of all—alittlepart of me isactuallythankful that he walked out on me. I've been trying to resist the darkness that calls to me. I've dedicated my life to fighting for the good side as penance for my past.

But maybe it's time to accept that a seeminglynormalguy like Mikejustcan't hold my interest. What do I really want? An adrenaline high, not a safety net.

My confrontation with Hyde flashes back into my mind for the millionth time today. It feels like red-hotshame,but also an undeniable high. How I can still feel the touch of his fingers along my skin, like an intoxicating burn that's never going to heal.

A noise behind me stops my thoughts in their track.

What was that?

The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, a prickle of nerves running over my exposed skin.

It's a minute before I realize what I'm hearing. Two sets of footsteps: myown,and one some distance behind me.

Some cops are driven to paranoia; looking at dead bodies all day will do that to you. I try not to fall into that trap, but suddenlymyinstincts are on edge. This neighborhood is safe enough, but I'm a woman alone on the street at night. I know what kind of sick bastards are lurking out there.

I speed up my pace a little, glancing over my shoulder. My stomach lurches at the sight.A dark figure is far along the street behind me,justvisible through the rainthat'snow soaking my hair and clothes.

Hyde.

Every cell in my body iscertainit's him. And every cell is lit up with intense, molten fear.

I quickly turn on my heel, heading down a deserted side street, furtively pulling out my phone to dial 911. My breath is fast and shallow as I force myself to keep walking.

My phone hums in my hand with the dial tone.

As I predicted, the footsteps follow after me.

Ipause,under the shadows of a solitary, gnarled tree next to me.

The footsteps pause too.

My heart is racing as I slowly turn.

The familiar masked face looks back at me. The sight of it knocks the air from my lungs.

God, I hate it when I'm right.

Hyde is standing at a distance, unmoving.

His face is concealed by the veil of shadows cast by the nearby buildings, but I canjustmake out that same mask. His towering figure cuts the same powerful silhouette I haven'tbeen able to forget: black hoodie, leather gloves, combat boots. The faint glow of a streetlight reflects off the slick sidewalk, casting an ethereal sheen over his muscular frame.

The phone keeps vibrating in my palm.

"Put the phone away, Detective." He sounds amused. Like my attempt at calling help is a cute but obviously futile plan. Something that a child might do.

I plunge my phone into my leather jacket's pockets. My fingers make contact with thecool, metallic surface of the switchblade I keep in my pocket. But I need to find the right moment if I'm going to use it.

If you take a stab at a psychopath, you better not miss.

Raising my voice over the patter of rain, I force a cold smile. "Stalking is a crime, you know. One that can get you put away for a long, long time. So mull that over before you take another step."

He laughs.I suppress a shiver atthetwisted, distorted soundemanating from his mask."If you think the law scares me, you haven't been listening closely enough. I'll have to find another way to get your attention."

He begins to walk forward, each step purposeful and unhurried. The instincts in my head are screaming at me to run, but I stay rooted to the spot.I can't take my eyes offthechilling, lifeless gazeof his mask.

I'm barely breathing when he reaches me, his form looming over my body. Close enough to touch. The air crackles with tense, palpable energy hanging between us like an invisible barrier.

"You have my attention already, Hyde," I reply. "But you're underestimating the law."

"The law is a rigid, archaic thing. It's used for control, not true justice. Written by men hundreds of years ago and now wielded like a weapon by fools." He pauses, that same cruelly mocking tone creeping back into his deep voice. "No offense, Detective."

My voice is cold. I hope it conceals the intense heatthat'srising in my stomach ashestares me down. "Don't worry. The opinion of a lowlife killer isn't something I take personally."

He slowly cocks his head to the side. "Lowlife… Is that what you think of me? Crude and unsophisticated? Do youreallythink so little of what I gave you, Ava?"

My stomach turns. The carefully constructed crime scenes flash before my eyes. Why is he talking like it was a gift, likea normalman would give jewelry or flowers?

"I didn't ask for you to commit those crimes for me. That isn't what this is about."

"No, you're right. I had my own reasons for those men to die. But don't try to pretend you didn't find it beautiful."

There's a deep, dark lust in his voice when he pronounces the last word. I suddenly feel breathless.

"What was your reason for killing them?" I ask, ignoring his comment.

"You want me to give you a clue?"

I give a faltering nod. I don't know why Hyde is targeting meofall people. I don't know why I can't bring myself to hate it. But maybe at least I can get something from him that will help me take him down.

"Then beg for it," he answers.

Heat rolls through me, but I shake my head. "You disgust me."

Heexhales,a half-laugh. "I don't believe you. But speaking of disgust, what kind of man did you spend your evening with, Ava? Don't you know how dangerous it is to walk home alone? There are some real psychopaths out there."

I shrug, trying to seemas ifmy heart isn't racing in my chest. "Maybe I'm not going home. Maybe my boyfriend is expecting me down the street in exactly two minutes, and he'll come looking for me with the GPS on my phone if I don't arrive."

His voice instantly turns cold, losing the mocking tone. "If your boyfriend shows up, I'll show him exactly who youreallybelong to."

What?

My stomach flips.

"I don't belong to you," I breathe.

"You don't have a boyfriend, Detective. I've been watching you. All those hours at the police station. Then you hurry back home to your sad little apartment. Only your sister notices you exist, but she has a busy lifeof her own. Youjustspend the precious minutes of your life running in circles after evil men, hoping justice will fall into your lap."

I feel the treacherous sting of tears in my eyes. It's likehe'sripping right through all my painstakingly built defenses, verbally tearing through right to the vulnerable girl inside.

He reaches out, his gloved finger tipping my chin up toward him. The masculine scent of leather and cedar hits me and sparks flutter inthe depths ofmy stomach.

His distorted voice drops to a whisper. So low that it's almost a fucked-up kind of… tender. How is that possible?

"You could have so much more than that, Ava. You could do so much more. You deserve so much more."

I fight back against the creeping dread that's dawning over me. Why does it feel like one of those gloved hands is clenched around my racing heart, strangling the life out of it?

I force myself to ignore him. "Tell me who you are and why you killed those men, or I'll scream for help right now. I'll wake up this whole damn neighborhood."

"Scream for helpandI'll make sure you'll fucking regret it."

I open my mouth wide and drawina sharp breath, ready to defy him.

He lurches forwardandI freeze, the sound caught in my throat. He's pinning me against the rough trunk of the tree behind me.

"This is our game, Ava. No one else gets to join in. No breaking the rules."

I squirm under his weight. I can feel the taut muscles of his upper body against me. "Why are you hiding behind a mask? Show your face to me."

"You think I'm the one who's hiding? You're smarter than that, Detective."

"Coward." I spit the word, my voice full of rage.

"It's not the work of a coward to hide their face. The cowards are the ones who don't admit they're wearing a mask at all." He reaches out, stroking my cheek. The touch sends feverish chills along my skin, my core tightening with a coil of heat. "Take off your own mask, Ava. Show me everything that's underneath."

His fingers loop down to hook under my jaw. They dig into my skin. A flash of anxiety is quickly drowned out by a needy pulse between my legs.

To my horror, I realize I'm fighting against my body's need for friction.

The first time I saw Hyde, he cornered me and lit me on fire with shameful desire before suddenly disappearing. I told myself it was a crazy one-time fluke. Now I know I was wrong.

"Who are you really, Hyde? Why are you following me?"

"So many questions, Ava. Let's play a new game. I'll tell you all the answers. If…" He trails off.

"If—if what?" The words sound ragged. Heat burns in my cheeks. Thetreacheryof my body isclearin my voice.

His hips buck forward an inch. There's a white-hot pulse in my core as I realize I can feel his bulge graze against me. It's huge and rock-hard.

I should be terrified. But the need for friction, pressure, and releaseis overridingeverything else in my brain.

I shiver as his voice from behind the mask vibrates along my skin. "If you're not wet right now, then I'll give every answer to every question. Would you like that, little dove?"

My breath hitches.

This is so wrong. I feel like I'm being torn in two by my body and brain.

But the word slips from my lips in a moan before I can think twice. "Yes."

He murmurs against my skin. "Good girl."

I gasp as his fingers deftly pop open the button of my black jeans before pulling down thezipper,tantalizingly slowly. The leather glove grazes down toward my pussy, leaving a trail of fire on my skin. Every sense feels heightened to almost painful levels.

I twitch as he skims over my clit, then reaches my folds.

My stomach drops as his fingers settle. I can immediately feel just how completely slick I am under his touch.

"What a shame, my little dove. I was so looking forward to sharing all my secrets. Now all I'm left with is your soaking wet pussy."

His fingers return to my clit. Teasing but refusing to give me what my body is begging for.

The ache is almost painful. My spine arches against the tree, my head lolling backward as my vision grows soft and my eyes lose focus.

This man is dangerous. He's a goddamn criminal. You're supposed to be the one stopping him.

Utter intoxication is drowning out the voice of reason in my head. It feels like a whisper from another room, all too easy tojustignore.

This masked psychopath is touching me, and my body is on fire with how much I love it.

Broken.

Fuck, what is wrong with me? I feel so filthy for the pleasure that's pumping through my body. I hear gasping moans in the air and know they're the strangled sounds of ecstasy from my own mouth.

He pushes one finger up inside me. My pussy is wet and beggingbuthis finger still feels huge as he thrusts into me. I can feel the flex of the concealed muscles in his powerful forearm as he begins to work at me.

He presses a second finger into me, thrusting deeper. I whimper. I feel my walls clench around it as rolls of pleasure burn through my core.

In and out. Rough. Perfect. My shoulders press hard into the tree behind me. My hips jerk with the rhythm ofhispunishing movements.

His voice is deep and distorted as he commands me. "Be a good girlandcome on my fingers."

The sound is so inhuman. Yet impossible to resist. It's like being ordered to comeby the devilhimself.

He pumps into me. I'm reaching breaking point.

A silent scream leaves my mouth as the orgasm explodes in the depths of my body. Every cell in my body is on fire.

Everything is white, floating pleasure.

You're broken, Ava. You'll never be normal. You'll never be good.

My breath slows, reality crashing back down around me. The sensation of rain on my skin comes back into focus. I blink in the half-darkness of the empty street.

We're both frozen. Only the patter of rain breaks the silence.

He shifts, drawing his hands back from my body. I feel the hard bulge of his cock concealed behind his pants as he moves.

A dizzying realization breaks over me.Hejust made me come, but I still want more. I want to feel what it's like to be fucked by this evil demon of the shadows.

His voice is taut with unconcealed lust when he speaks. "That was the prettiest fucking thing I've ever seen. I knew you were beautiful, but you look even more beautiful when you're being my little slut. Coming tight around my fingers just because I told you to."

With a sick lurch in my stomach, something else terrible dawns on me. An ordinary man like Mike could neverprovide me witha high like this. Hyde has a sick obsession with me, but I think I might have one with him too—

No.I've worked so hard tomake sureI never go back to letting the darkness in. I've done so much to forget how Harvey's death stained me with guilt so long ago.

"I can give you more, Ava. Togetherwecan have every single thing we've ever wanted."

I stare into the lifeless eyes of his mask.

I hatethat part of me wants to say yes. But I can't give into this pull of darkness.

"Come closer, Hyde." My whisper is ragged, my breath still shallow. "Let me tell you something."

He leans into me. His scent makes me dizzy with need, but I focus.

My fingers close tight around the switchblade in the right pocket of my leather jacket.

I'm never going to be a victim again. I promised myself this much that day long ago at fifteen years old. When a man I was supposed to trust hurt me for the very last time.

I snatch the knife out of my pocket and swing the blade into the left side of his chest.

Thud.

The blade is small and blunt. But it slices through the layers of black fabric to reachhisskin. There's a fucked-up thrill deep in my stomach as I feel the tip of the blade sink into his flesh.

I expect him to scream or curse or start crying, but hejustlooks down at me, his head slightly cocked to the side. I swear I can somehow feel the twisted smile under his mask.

Nerves ripple over my skin. I just stabbed this manandhe's not even reacting.

I reach up to grab the knife handle, but it feels like an invisible hand stops me in my tracks. My body won't comply. Hot, potent shame burns through me. I don't want to be a killer.

And something else is stopping me, too.

I hate to admit it, but I'm not ready to finish playing this game with Hyde.

"Bad little dove." His voice is amused, with only the slightest edge of surprise.

I gasp as he grabs the handle of the knife, ripping it from his chest. He doesn't seem concerned by the blood that trickles from the wound.

Slowly, almost gently, he brings the knife out in front of my face. I flinch andbrace myself for pain. But hejustholds the weapon there.

"How do I taste, Detective?"

The tip of the blade hits my tongue.

My eyes widen in shock. Fresh warmth blooms in between my legs.

I stick out my tongue and obediently lick. My tongue caresses the blade.

I hear him groan softly under his mask. My core pulses again, feeling so hot that I somehow hold the power to make a man like this make an animalistic sound like that.

The sharp taste of iron fills my mouth. I wishI hatedit. Why don't I hate it? I feel the blood stain my lips like lipstick.

I snarl, as if to convince myself of my words. "You taste like pure evil."

He laughs. Cruel and low. "There's nothing pure about me."

Slowly, he draws the knife back. "Maybe I'll see how you taste next. I bet you're fucking delicious, my little detective."

Nerves explode inside me. I shrink back against the rough tree bark.

Slam.

With apowerfulthrust, he buries the knife holt-deep into the tree trunk behind me.

I flinch away, automatically turning away from the blow.But by the time I've spun back around,he'sgoneandthe knife along with it.

I'm frozen to the spot, my breath coming so fast that my lungs feel on fire.

My eyes flit to the side. The hole the blade made is half an inch from my face.

Either Hyde has very good aim.

Or very bad aim.

I don't wait to see if he returns. I bolt back toward the main street, not slowing my frantic pace until I'm within sight of my apartment.

One thought follows after me like an obsessive stalker: I'mcompletelyout of my fucking depth.