Page 17

16

BENEATH THE MASKS

ASHER

I spent the morning slipping in and out of rooms, moving through the dim corridors, picking up snippets of conversations and stories. I’d become almost invisible—just another lost soul wandering the halls, forgotten, unimportant. The orderlies and nurses barely glanced at me anymore, and the other patients were too caught up in their own problems to notice mine.

It was the perfect cover.

“Hi, Asher. You seemed to have gotten up early today.” I nodded when Nurse Shelly sat in the chair opposite mine. “How are you feeling?”

How am I feeling?

I was tired, exhausted. I was always running, but I was stuck. I was suffocating within these walls, but I couldn’t leave. The rage in me was growing, twisting, taking shape, and I was afraid I’d lose myself to this seething creature slowly forming within me.

“Fine.” NOT.

She smiled before she walked toward Millie.

Nurse Shelly asked something, and Millie looked up from her sketchbook, gave her an empty look, and went back to her picture, her fingers steadily drawing more spiders.

I stared at the clock. It was five past eleven. I had a therapy session with the pretty and insane as fuck therapist at eleven thirty.

I wondered how she was now, after the kind of morning she had.

Sighing, I made my way toward Doctor T’s office. Just as I neared the office, the door opened from the inside. I slipped back, pressing my back against the wall.

Nurse Becca stepped out of the room, her eyes darting around as she quietly closed the door behind her. She turned and walked away, disappearing down the hall.

Becca?

She had been here for well over a decade, but… could she be the one I’d been searching for? I couldn’t imagine her selling a mentally unstable girl to a psychopath, but what did I know?

“What are you up to, sneaky little Pussycat?”

I jumped at the whisper, my heart skipping a beat. Whipping around, I found Diya watching me with a curious smile.

God, she was gorgeous.

She was art; she was abstract. Like a million colors spilled on the canvas. She was destruction. The wildfire moving through dead trees, bringing the forest down to ashes… and I… I wanted to paint her, I wanted to burn with her.

It was absurd and obscene, this need, this addiction, but it was entirely beyond my control right now.

I had relinquished my control over my body already. Now, she owned it, and she knew how to make me dance. The right strings to pull, the right buttons to push.

“None of your damn—” I started, catching myself. Oh, yes, the truce.

Her eyebrows lifted in a playful arch. “Oh, touchy, are we?”

I let out an exasperated sigh, trying to push down the tension prickling under my skin. “I was about to sneak into Doctor T’s office, and I saw Becca coming out of his room.”

“Becca?” Diya’s smile disappeared. “Could she be?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. Diya reached out, her fingers grazing mine. “I have known her for years, and she…”

“She could just be cleaning out his room.”

“She could be,” I said.

“Come with me.” Her voice was quiet but firm. “We can’t do this here.”

When we reached her office, she locked the door behind us, before turning to me.

“Pretty bold of you, Sharma,” I murmured, leaning in closer, savoring her delectable scent. “Dragging me all the way like this. Do you want me all to yourself?”

Her eyes sparkled as she crossed her arms, and her breasts became even more pronounced against her green silk blouse. For a second, I couldn’t think about anything except just wrapping my palm around her perfect breasts.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I just didn’t want to attract more eyes. Vincent is already on your ass, and if you go around like a reckless moron…”

“Worried about me?” I leaned against the wall with a grin. “Be still, my stupid heart.”

She shook her head, rolling her eyes, but I saw the faintest trace of a smile.

“Focus, Maddox. Becca might be hiding something, or she’s just doing her job. We don’t know, but we need to be careful. You can’t give Vincent more ammunition, Ash.”

“I’ll be careful,” I said, studying her. “How is the pain?”

“Much better after the pills. Asher…”

“Yes?” I looked at her.

“Thank you.”

My heart tightened and for a second, I was afraid I might be dying.

I thought I was unaffected, but I wasn’t.

“So, Becca… Did she have anything in her hands?”

“No. She just came out. Becca’s a good person. I’ve known her for a long time and—”

Diya cut me off with a shake of her head. “You’d be surprised what people are capable of when no one’s watching.” Her voice was steady, but there was a hard edge to it, and her eyes… they burned with something fierce. Doctor Diya Sharma didn’t trust anyone. That much was clear.

“You always expect the worst in people, don’t you?” I tried to sound amused, but her expression wiped the smile right off my face.

I, at least, wanted to give someone the benefit of the doubt, but not her.

“If you want to believe people are better than they are, you might end up paying the price with your life.” Her voice was soft, but there wasn’t a hint of softness in her eyes. “Don’t let your guard down. Trust is a weakness, especially now.”

“Can’t I trust you?”

A faint, almost sad smile touched her eyes. “You can’t. I don’t trust you either. But for now, the deal we made benefits us both.”

She turned away, slumping on the couch.

“Sit.” She motioned to the single chair across from her. I ignored her and instead settled onto the couch right next to her. She stiffened but didn’t move away.

“Good to know,” I said.

Her lips curved into a smirk, and she tilted her head. “Did you expect something more ?”

“I don’t expect any promises from you.”

“Smart man,” she murmured, her voice like silk. “People who make promises rarely keep them anyway.”

“I know. That’s why I don’t trust you either.”

But it was a lie.

“Guess that makes us a perfect match, doesn’t it? For now.” She leaned closer, until her lips were against my chin, softly tracing the skin of my throat.

“Or a disaster waiting to happen,” I whispered, my fingers buried into her skin as she sucked the sensitive skin where my pulse pounded. “I don’t know, but I want to find out. It has been a while since I’ve had any reckless fun.”

She chuckled, her laughter vibrating down my bones, slowly, studiously trying to bring my walls down.

NO.

“If you think I’m fun, Maddox, you’ll be sorely disappointed,” she murmured, biting the underside of my chin, a low groan escaping her as she moved closer. “Just be careful.”

I slid my hand around her waist, pulling her closer until there was no space between us. Her lips hovered inches from mine, her gaze smoldering, daring me to close the distance. Slowly, deliberately, I did. My mouth brushed against hers, soft, tender.

Her body softened, and her hands slid up my neck, fingers threading through my hair, pulling me closer.

Every taste, every soft sound she made… sent a thrill through me. Diya Sharma was someone a man could easily get addicted to.

I shouldn’t, though.

Her hand slipped down, fingertips trailing along my chest before her arm wrapped around my neck. She broke away for a breath. “If we get caught…”

“It’s part of my treatment,” I said with a grin, leaning once again, taking her lips.

She tasted like she was laced with poison and honey. I dug my fingers into her hips, and she moaned, the sound muffled between us, her lips pulling away only to press back with urgency.

The kiss turned even faster—each press of her lips, each brush of her tongue, each bite… was a dare, testing how close I could come to unraveling. Her fingers slid from my neck down to my shoulders, her breath hitching as I tilted her head back.

I unwrapped the scarf and opened the blouse. Her bruise had turned slightly purple.

“Does it hurt?” I asked, softly running my finger along it.

“A little.”

“Do you want me to kiss it better?”

“Yes.”

I kissed her throat, and my heart strangely hurt.

“Ash.”

“Ssh. If you scream now, you won’t get to enjoy me,” I said, moving my lips lower.

I pressed my right palm between her lips. She bit back a groan when I slightly bit on her nipple.

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath. “I can’t… be quiet. Fuck, stop. Ash…”

“Already? I haven’t even started.” I pushed my hand between her thighs, feeling how heated she was. She rubbed herself against me, moaning as she did.

“Later. Later. I can’t… We have a group session. I need to…”

“I love the way you look right now, Little Poison. Utterly unhinged and desperate for more.”

She pulled back from me, panting.

“We have things to do.”

“Your eyes tell me you need more,” I said, teasing the lock of hair curling down her neck, and she let out a soft mewl, leaning closer to me and my heart felt… fucking weird.

I cupped her face, brushing my thumb over her cheek, my eyes watching her every reaction.

This wasn’t the stoic, utterly unmovable Diya Sharma.

Her eyes burned golden as her lips parted.

I leaned in and pressed my lips to hers again, wanting more, knowing that it would be impossible to stop after what I had started.

Soft… softer… slow… slower.Almost torturously so.

This time, there was no desperation in the kiss. Only the knowledge that I could kiss her whenever I wanted.

Like I have all the time in the world.

But I did NOT, did I?

I didn’t care. I’d take every moment I was given until I couldn’t.

When we finally pulled back, she looked bewildered as if she didn’t understand what just happened.

I was just as bewildered.

It wasn’t hunger. It wasn’t lust. It wasn’t the desperate need to break each other, or a fight to show who had more control.

It was… something I couldn’t name.

Something that made my breath snag, my skin burn.

She stood up, lips quivering. She buttoned her blouse and shook her head, blinking.

“Let’s get to work then.”