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TWISTED DESIRE

ASHER

I t had been one hell of a day, and it wasn’t over yet.

Sheriff Poppycock and his deputies had been running around all day, questioning everyone. And they didn’t look like they’d be done with this anytime soon.

I was in the reception area, watching the chaos unfold when Vincent walked in with Diya. They looked cozy together, and she was smiling.

“Can I, at least, question him?” Vincent asked.

Diya shrugged.

“Asher,” Vincent said, eyes narrowed.

Diya shifted from one leg to another next to me—I still couldn’t understand why she wasn’t already blurting my secrets out to him.

Vincent, Riley and I were friends once… but we stopped being friends when he abandoned Riley.

“Where were you last night?” Vincent asked, crossing his arms.

Diya scoffed before she turned to Vincent, flashing him a bright smile.

“He doesn’t talk,” she said, her voice dripping with mockery, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. She was trying to get under my skin and wasn’t trying to be subtle about it.

I clenched my jaw, and her eyes flashed with happiness. She saw me, and she was enjoying this little fucked up game too much.

“Ah, I see he’s still pulling the same bullshit,” Vincent said. He crossed his arms, staring me down like a criminal he’d caught in the act. But this wasn’t a court trial, and I wasn’t his perp. “You’re not fooling anyone, Asher,” he said.

He wasn’t about to let anyone—especially me—off the hook without digging deeper.

I shrugged.

“I know you’re hiding something and I’ll find it,” he warned, taking a step toward me.

“Good luck,” I muttered under my breath. I didn’t expect him to take the bait, but Vincent, of course, could never resist trying to prove something.

His eyes widened for a split second, and then his hand shot out, grabbing the front of my shirt.

“Sheriff Bricks, please let go,” Diya said, her voice firm. “This is over. You need to leave.”

Vincent barely glanced at her. “Don’t trust him,” he growled.

“I don’t,” Diya said. “But you can’t do this. If you have any evidence of his guilt, come back with it. Now go.”

If she could, she’d gladly hand him a box filled with irrefutable evidence of my crime, gift-wrapped with a bow. But something was stopping her.

What?

No rational person would ever hide a murder. But here Diya was, holding her ground like a pro, acting like she was just another bystander in all of this. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she didn’t know who killed Doctor T.

I knew better.

There was something she wanted to keep buried. If I figured it out, I could control her—at least for a while. Everyone had a breaking point, even the unshakable Diya Sharma.

What exactly are you hiding, Doctor Sharma?

“Fine,” Vincent snarled, shoving me back. “But this isn’t over. I’ll come back, and when I do, I won’t need a damn confession to bring you down.”

I sighed when he turned away.

As soon as he left, Diya turned toward me, a frozen smile on her lips.

“You are a smug fool, Maddox. You’re not fit for… this,” she said, her voice low, almost too calm.

I arched an eyebrow.

She crossed her arms, leaning slightly forward, her voice hardening. “You just gave him a good reason to come back swinging,” she said with a frown.

“He’ll try. He’ll fail.”

Her eyes narrowed just a fraction. “You’re too cocky for your own good. Just remember one thing, Asher. If push comes to shove, I’ll shove you straight into Vincent’s loving arms.”

I smirked. “You wouldn’t dare. Not unless you want your own little skeletons to come out of hiding.”

For a second, her composed facade cracked, and I saw a flash of something—Guilt? Fear?—before she masked it with a smile, but it wasn’t quite as convincing this time.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, her voice tight. “Here’s some friendly advice. Don’t give Vincent too much reason to doubt you.” She turned away and stopped again. “Oh, and just so we’re clear… as long as you don’t bother me, I won’t bother you.”

“I think you do know what I’m talking about, Doctor Sharma. I don’t think I’m the only one with a secret.”

Her jaw clenched. “Fuck you.”

“Well, I don’t think it’s ethical to fuck your therapist, but if you want it so bad…”

She glowered, nostrils flaring before she walked away.

Later that night, I sat in the dark, waiting for the right time to sneak out of the asylum.

Hannigan was just one of the many spiders tangled in this twisted web. Maybe even as insignificant as Doctor T, but he would take me to the man who was behind all of this—the one who orchestrated this horror show.

I still didn’t know the full story behind what had happened to Riley. But I knew one thing for sure—she hadn’t taken her life by choice. Someone pushed her. Someone broke her until there was nothing left of her.

Her letters were all the proof I needed.

Riley deserved justice. I couldn’t save her life, but I would do this for her. I’d find the monster who did this to her. I’d find them all, and butcher them.

Now that I finally had another lead, I couldn’t let anyone stand in my way—especially not a psychiatrist with a knack for stirring up shit. This woman was insane. And mad people? They had a special talent for ruining everything.

When the quiet settled and the lights went off one by one by one… when the ancient walls creaked and cried with ghosts of the past… when the darkness swallowed the place whole… it was my time to get the hell out of my room and find Diya Sharma.

I slipped out the back door, careful not to make a sound, and made my way to the hiding spot. Digging a little, I yanked the dagger buried under the old oak, gripping it with shaking fingers.

I had come too far, sacrificed too much, to stop now.

And now that I knew she wasn’t someone who could be scared into silence with a simple threat… I had to do what I had to.

I hadn’t truly considered making the threat true until she decided to push me.

I walked past Doctor T’s cottage until I reached Diya’s.

A tiny, persistent voice in the back of my mind whispered that this might be crossing a line, but I’d stopped worrying about lines ages ago. My moral compass was broken beyond repair the day Riley died.

Right and wrong didn’t matter anymore.

My heart thundered when I picked Diya’s lock, fingers slippery with sweat.

She slept with the lights on. Like she was afraid of the creatures lurking in the dark.

“What monsters chase you in your dreams, Doctor?” I whispered, pulling the dagger out and walking into her bedroom.

She looked rather fragile, helpless… like I could break her with a finger, a single touch, but I had glimpsed past her sweet smile, her kind facade.

Helpless? Fuck no.

She could probably start a war with a well-constructed barb or a tempting look, and she’d watch the world burn, sipping a cup of chai, smiling.

“Sorry, Doc, but I’ve come too far to go back.”

My fingers trembled when I pressed the knife above her breast. Her brown skin was dotted with sweat and my mouth watered for just a lick. A taste.

She muttered something under her breath and turned, until the cover slid down her body, showing off her curves.

“Fucking gorgeous,” I whispered, my eyes glued to her long, curvy body. Like a moth drawn to an incredibly delectable flame that would burn me. “All that lushness…” My eyes widened when I realized my knife was now running down her stiff nipple.

To my shame, my brain had taken an unauthorized vacation to my cock.

“Fuck,” I cursed, and stilled when she stiffened and moaned, and then she fucking whispered my name like a prayer, a curse.

Maybe I hallucinated it.

By now, my thoughts were less about murder and more about what it would feel like to trace every inch of her skin with my hands. Or my tongue. Or both.

My gaze dropped lower, and I instantly regretted it, or maybe I didn’t.

The blanket covering her completely fell away, and I could see she wasn’t wearing underwear.

Killing was easy, and there were no messy feelings involved. But this? This was chaos. Primal, brain-melting, cock-tightening chaos.

I could already imagine her legs on my shoulders as I pounded into her wet pussy…

My hands itched to do something—grab her, touch her, worship her—but I didn’t move. I couldn’t.

Fuuuck.

She was going to kill me, and honestly, I’d die to have two seconds or perhaps two hundred hours of her body.

“Ash…” she breathed, as her legs fell open. My eyes darted to her soaked pussy, and the brain in my cock practically short-circuited.

This is hell.

I wanted to dive into the dream and touch her everywhere to stop the fire raging through my body.

A shuddering gasp left me when the dagger grazed down her breasts, then her stomach.

Would she wake up if I pressed my knife against her pussy, or would she enjoy it?

I had a feeling she’d enjoy it. Hell, she’d likely beg for it.

Carefully, I let the dagger glide lower, its dull edge skimming over her pussy. She groaned, louder this time.

The need to do more, have more… was desperate, unrelenting.

NO.

I took the dagger away, and she let out a whimper of disappointment. Groaning, I pressed the blade against my lips. The faint taste of her against the cold steel… was enough to unravel me, enough to obliterate the boundary between control and surrender.

Fuck. I had to get away before I gave in to this obsessive need.

“Fuck me, Asher. Oh. I want your tongue… in my pussy.”

“God damn, Diya Sharma.”

Wasn’t it completely unethical to… dream about one’s patient? This woman was madder than half the residents in the asylum, and that was a generous understatement.

I had no idea what I should do now. Murder, I could do blindfolded, but this…

“Asher?” She blinked and looked up at me, eyes hazy. Shit.

I stilled, half-expecting her to scream bloody murder. But…

She gave me a slow, predatory smile, licking her lips—a smile that could set fire to even the coldest of nights.

“Am I dreaming? You look so fucking real, you bastard,” she said, voice thick and sultry. “You still have that same brooding look.”

Her grin widened, and I wanted to cry.

“Doctor Sharma—”

She cut me off with a sigh. “Shh, quiet. Don’t ruin the dream. It’s better if you just shut up.” I blinked, as her smile changed into a groan as she pressed her fingers to her pussy. “I’m so… wet.”

My breath stuck. My whole fucking world tilted.

This woman was unhinged.

“Mmm…” Mumbling, she sucked her finger coated with her arousal, and my cock jerked.

Shit .

I had never come so hard in my twenty-eight years, and I wasn’t even touching myself. My cum stained the front of my pants, a big wet patch of shame and shattered ego.

“You’ll fucking kill me.”

“I taste so good. Do you want a taste, Asher?” she asked, thrusting a finger back into her pussy, shuddering as she did, and my cock stirred awake like it was shocked back to life.

She looked delirious as if she was hanging between dream and reality. “Here. Have a taste, Asher.”

It was so hard to say no. I wanted to, but… I couldn’t stop. The need was a fervent burn along my skin, and the devil in me whispered for more.

She offered.

“Yes.”

I bent down and sucked her finger with a long curse, swirling my tongue around her slick skin, taking every last drop.

The thirst was so acute it made my whole body ache. More. I wanted it all.

“Want to… put your tongue…” she whispered again, rubbing her clit with a finger. Her heels pressed into the soft silk sheet, and she opened her thighs further.

She was insatiable, and I wanted to satiate my own hunger.

Every cell in my body begged to let go and take. Take everything she was offering, to say yes.

I licked my lips, bending down, until I was closer to her, until I could smell her.

“No. Fuck no.” I could not. I stood back up, heart hammering. I was here to kill her, not eat her out.

I want to eat her out.

“NO.”

And then as if she hadn’t just had a wet dream, she fell back asleep, snoring, content.

My eyes went to the bottles of pills on her side table with a wince. I took a bottle and read the label—sleeping pills prescribed by Doctor Tomlinson.

“Fuck, you're truly mad.” I stumbled out of her cottage, my legs and hands unsteady.

The cold air did nothing to help the heat in my skin.

Beneath the mask of composure and professionalism, Diya Sharma was a maddening puzzle, and I wanted to solve it, solve her.

Or just kill her.

Either would do.

I took a moment to compose myself before heading back toward the asylum. Slipping in through the back door, I made my way to Doctor T’s office.

I’d failed one mission. Maybe I’d succeed in the next. With a sigh, I pulled out the chair and sat down. Logging into the computer, I opened The Gates website to find Tomas Hannigan’s email address.

Switching to a fake email account I’d created years ago, I typed out a business proposal, pitching a new drug entering the market, claiming we could make a hefty profit by selling it to his clients.

Officially, The Gates was just a legal gentlemen’s club—but that wasn’t the whole truth. Hannigan operated secret VIP rooms, offering exclusive drugs and women to his married clientele.

After sending the email, I shut down the computer, locked the office door, and walked to my room.

Sliding under my covers, I closed my eyes and cursed… when I saw Diya, legs opened wide, begging for me.

Tonight was going to be long.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.