The Bad Guy

by Celia Aaron

He walked toward the kitchen. “You sort of fidget whenever the bad guy’s on screen.” “No I don’t.” I clicked a button so I had them both in view. Grabbing another bag of popcorn, he popped it into the microwave. “You so do. Remember Avengers? Loki?” She shrugged. “Not really.” “You fidgeted then, too. The Joker—I’m talking Heath Ledger and the Jared Leto one. Fidget.” “No I didn’t.” She turned to glare at him. “Ramsay Bolton, Game of Thrones? Fidget.”

“You’re deranged.” He smirked, the quirk of his lips cruel. “You aren’t the first to call me that, though I prefer high-functioning psychopath.”

Would I enjoy toying with her a bit while she tried to find a way out? Of course. After all, I was still a psychopath.

I’d spent countless hours in therapy sessions, thanks to my dad, and each doctor and psychologist had come to the same conclusion. On the spectrum of personality disorders, I was the most psychopathic person they’d ever counseled. It was hard wired into me. Nature, not nurture, had created my monster.

“I want a kiss.” He reached out and dragged his thumb along my lower lip. “A real one. And then you can keep the books.” “And if I say no?” My ears went hot, then cold as he loomed above me. He gestured toward the flames with the book. “I’ll let the staff roast marshmallows over the fire.”

“How’s she doing?” “I think she’s getting used to—” My phone vibrated, and an incessant beeping raised the hackles on the back of my neck. “Fuck.” I swung the library door open just in time to see her jump out the window and take off across the lawn.

The thought that I brought out the worst in her made something akin to glee bubble up in my chest. I wanted to bring everything out of her—good, bad, ugly, beautiful—everything that made her her.

I sipped my wine and pondered the butter knife on my plate. Would it do any damage? “If you’re going to stab me, I’d use the fork. It would leave a better impression. More badass than a dull butter knife, don’t you think?” His face was calm, but I could feel him laughing at me.

“Oh, by the way.” His voice floated back to me. “You missed the perfect chance to fork me when I was leaning down to see about your ankle.” Damn him.

“When you make that face, I can’t tell what the appropriate response is.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “What?” “Most of the time, you’re so expressive.” He reached out to touch my face, but I backed up a step, the dirt squishing between my toes. He frowned even more. “But when you’re like this, I can’t tell what’s going on in your head or what my reaction should be.”

“I’m not as bad as you think.” I could taste the lie, acrid on my tongue, before the sentence was out of my mouth. “I know.” She nodded. “You’re worse.” I considered lying to her, but decided against it. “That’s accurate.”

“Once again, I find the fact that you can quote American Psycho quite telling.” It tells me I’m the only man for you.

“If you don’t turn them off in the bathrooms and this bedroom, I’ll kiss Timothy.” Timothy blanched, and his gaze went to the chandelier. Busted.

“Too bad you don’t have a camera in my mind, huh?” “What I wouldn’t give for such a thing.” “Psycho,” I whispered as I moved on to the next plant. “I can read your lips.”

“She makes me feel.” I pointed at Dad. “Your tears, they should make me sad, right? They don’t. I see you upset and I think ‘I don’t want you to be unhappy’ but I don’t feel your sadness.

“When your parents died within six months of each other, Link swooped in to the rescue. You let him. But he was a crutch that turned into something that was never meant to be. You used him.”

I’d caught her in her own trap. She’d have to stay here, in my arms, while I told her why we were perfect together. “I crunched the data, and I found you. The real you. The one who wants a monster instead of a man. You enjoy dancing with the devil. Our deals? You play the good girl, but you wanted my kiss.”

“Psycho.” I kissed her hair again and relaxed into my pillow. “Your psycho.”

For the past three nights, he’d held me in his arms and told me bits of information he’d picked up about me during his stalking efforts. Then he explained how each fact meant that we were perfect together while I denied it all until I fell asleep.

“You keep doubting, and I’ll keep plotting ways to knife you and run.”

“You can’t hide yourself from me. I’m the only one who’s ever seen you.”

“He’s not a good man. He’s not a bad man. There’s no direct way to explain a man like him. So much of what you see is the real him, undiluted, but then there are parts he hides away. I didn’t even realize he had that extra depth until you showed up. It was the first time since I met him that I actually saw him change.”

I got to my feet. “So are you saying you can figure out everything he does just by parsing out the logic of it?” He smiled, the sadness from his past disappearing back into whatever recess he hid it in. “Everything until you, yes.”

stared at my color pencil. The tip seemed plenty sharp. “You better go for the eye if you’re serious.” Sebastian leaned over me and perused my work. “Shove upward hard if you want to impale my brain. Finish me off or I’ll find you. How was your run this afternoon, by the way?” “You are sick.” “That’s what all the professionals say.”

I straightened my spine, refusing to yield to him anymore. “Yes. We’re in love.” He clenched his eyes shut—the same way people did when they’d suffered some grievous injury and were trying to collect themselves.

“You don’t have to love me, but you sure as hell won’t love anyone else.”

The one man who was right for me never made me burn bright, never set me spinning the way Sebastian did. I was sick and twisted for enjoying his touch, but I couldn’t stop it any more than I could leave this house.

And then I exploded in a crash of rolling waves, each one dragging me deeper until I was eye to eye with Sebastian in the darkest circle of hell.

“Maybe you aren’t as good as you think?” “Impossible.”

“What part? You coming on my face, or you saying my name, or you having the best orgasm of your life?” She covered her face with her hands and sped her pace. “Stop.” “I was just seeking clarification.” Watching her squirm gave me some of the most enjoyment I’d ever had. “No, you’re being an asshole.” “Better than a psycho, right?”

“When did you cook this up? While you were drawing, on the way up the stairs, while you were brushing your teeth? When?” “Why does it matter?” “Because I’ve been trying to get to the bottom of you, and I still haven’t.”

“I thought you knew everything about me?” Her sass killed. I wanted to lick it from her lips. “I do, but you have certain anomalies in your personality that mystify me.” “Maybe you underestimate me?” “Perhaps.”

“Tell me I can taste you again.” He dropped kisses along my jawline. “Not part of the deal.” “Fuck the deal,” he growled and claimed my mouth again.

His guttural roar passed my lips. “Let me.” His wild eyes met mine, and I wanted to give in, to break and let him have what he wanted, and more. All of me.

“When normal people have a crush, they ask the crushee on a date. Did that ever occur to you?” “It did, but you were with that halfwit. And asking for a date wasn’t—I don’t know—enough.”

“How do you work?” I propped myself on my elbow and perused him from above. “You know that’s the first time you’ve asked the right question?” A smile ghosted along the corner of his lips. “Is that so?”

“Your body, your thoughts, your feelings.” “So, everything. You just want it all.” “Yes.” Once again, he said it as if it were utterly reasonable to demand all of another person. “I’ll see what I can do.”

But his words didn’t change the fact that I had to get away. His touch, his fiery kisses, and the passion he ignited inside me—none of it could ever grow into more unless I was free. The only way I could make him understand was to show him, and that’s just what I intended to do.

“No.” I gripped my elbows. “I paid dearly for this, so I’m going to take my time in the city.” And figure out a way to escape. “I didn’t think you minded the payment that much.” His smirk appeared. “When you moaned in my mouth—”

I should have demanded he stop touching me, but it wasn’t worth the effort. It wasn’t that I enjoyed his scent or the feel of him against me. Not at all. I just had to give him some room to hope I’d comply with what he wanted. It was all a part of my plan.

I stepped onto the waiting elevator. “What if there’s a fire?” “I’ll save you.” His matter-of-fact tone had me arching an eyebrow. “You’ll save me? I didn’t think the bad guy ever saved anyone but himself.” He entered a code for the penthouse, and the elevator doors closed. “You think I’m the bad guy?” “I know you are.” I leaned against the back wall of the elevator as we moved smoothly upward. He leaned next to me. “Every bad guy is the hero of his own tale.” “Seriously?” I gawked at him in the reflective door. “The hero?” “I saved you from that dimwit, gave you a castle full of your favorite things, and am prepared to lay down my life for you in case of fire or other calamity. What about all that?”

“Now that we’re here, please regale me with your plan for escape.”

“I’m glad you asked.” I turned and took in the navy polo that sat perfectly on his broad chest and the jeans slung low across his hips. “First thing is to kill you when you’re

asleep, then raid your bank account, and finally escape to the Amazon where I will open my own world-class field school.” He nodded. “Solid plan. I like it. Just one question, though. How are you going to take me out?”

Rita gave me an awkward glance, then disappeared into a large pantry.

“If you sat on my face, I’d be more than happy to suffocate, just so long as you came first. And I can guarantee you would.” He licked his lips.

“I’ll show you around after, and you can work on your bedsheet rope while I’m on the phone. All right?” His smirk both infuriated me and temped a smile from my lips.

American Psycho. Sebastian turned his hand over and entwined our fingers. “I know this is your favorite movie,” he whispered. On paper, my favorite movie was Pitch Perfect. But, in truth, Sebastian was right. Silence of the Lambs was a forever fave.

“No luck?” I locked my tablet and stood. “None, you sadistic prick.” Her mouth had grown steadily worse the longer she stayed with me. It was precious as all hell. I smiled down at her. “I’m beginning to sense a little anger. But only a little.” “What’s in the locked room? Severed head collection?” “Don’t be ridiculous.” I grinned. “That’s where I stack the dead hookers.”

She smiled, actual joy on her face, and my ass almost hit the wool rug again. It was the emotion I’d wanted to see, the one I’d been chasing for the past few months. Here it was, bright as day and more exquisite than the sun. And