Page 68 of Shadowface

Not urges, I remind myself. I don’t desire this woman.

These are his memories. Memories.

My skin burns, arousal thickens, and my chest expands.

He’s a killer.

He’s killed multiple women while Dr. Garcia had him in her clutches. She brought him prostitutes and transients, people who didn’t matter, to see what he would do with them when left to his own devices.

He was thirteen, and what was left of those women was carnage.

Before I can fully comprehend what I’m doing, I slide the razor blade over the flesh of her arm. I just want to see how much blood spills out.

She screams—luckily the music spilling from above mutes her—and I jolt back.

Fuck. What am I doing? Why is this so natural? So satisfying.

Using all my willpower to keep him at bay, I step away from her. A dark laugh fills the room and a small flicker hits my center.

That fucking flicker, flying around my head like a moth I can’t catch. The little angry split.

I take a deep breath, watching the blood trickle from her arm, and she passes out. I take off my sweater, but before I wrap her arm with it, I snap a photo of her. I can’t help myself because the blood is so beautiful.

Coming to my senses, I wrap the sweater around her arm to stop the bleeding. Once I’m done and satisfied she won’t die in the next hour, I leave the room as quickly as I can before we kill her. Mikael’s so embedded in me now, I’m unsure where the lines of our subconscious lie.

This girl will be the key to saving Summer’s life, so I need her to not end up looking like a scarecrow. And frankly, I do not want to deal with a corpse.

CHAPTER

TWENTY

LINCOLN

My breath catches as I reach the top of the stairs and slide into the kitchen, keeping myself as calm and composed as possible considering I mutilated Cali’s arm moments ago. It was me, all me, in that moment.

The clatter of plates and the swish of water fills the air as Lucy, the housemaid, scrubs the dinner dishes. Lucy’s in her seventies; her family worked for Dr. Garcia’s parents before she handed the house over to us, and Lucy right along with it. I’m certain she’s well-aware of the girl in the basement.

Over the years, I’ve come to realize that Lucy knows everything and says nothing. She’s aware of every single thing that happens here.

She dries her wrinkled hands on her apron. She fixes her gaze on me and a flicker of movement crosses her eyes. She helped raise Mikael before I took over; she knew him first, yet welcomed me with open arms. Xander’s parents ran off and abandoned him, so Dr. Garcia and Lucy raised him, too.

Lucy pauses before she says, “Would you like a drink before joining the others?”

I wipe the sweat building on the back of my neck. I flash her a smile, unsure of where my threshold of sanity lies. “Please,” I say to her calmly. “Make it a double.”

She pours whiskey into a crystal glass—neat, how I like it—and hands it to me, but doesn’t quite let the glass go as her fingers graze mine. Her eyes penetrate me, seeing right through my facade.

She gives me a cautious smile, seeming to sense my racing heart. My palms are sweaty and my adrenaline is still high—these are not normal reactions for me. Just the sweat alone should make her weary. Finally, she releases me, as if confirming what she needed to by her lingering touch.

As Summer and I grow closer, Mikael’s getting stronger and his triggers are getting worse. His emotions are blurring with mine, and my impulses are loosening because of it.

And that is a big problem.

For now, I ignore it. Being around people helps. He won’t come out if he’s uncomfortable, and at least for now, he prefers to watch.

“Let me know if you need anything else,” she says.

“I sure will, Lucy.”