Darkly, Madly Duet

by Trisha Wolfe

Still, he didn’t give me a choice. He decided for me.

I was a performer once. I can be again. At least now, I know the difference.

I can’t do this. Not without him. Grayson said I was the key—but he was the one to unlock me. Now we’re both damned.

Grayson burned it all for me. He set me free in more ways than one. And in doing so, he destroyed my path to him. The answers to the man now ash.

“Yes,” I say. “He’s in there.”

Grayson knew it would only be a short matter of time before they discovered the location once they made the connection. It’s so blatant it’s almost stupid. Not the act of a highly intelligent man or criminal. Surely the FBI has to see that.

painful reminder of how alone I am. But being alone and lonely, as I once expressed to my patient, are two different things. I no longer choose to be alone, and the person I need is out there. Waiting for me.

Trust. It’s as new for me as it is for London.

Now that she’s free, I can be patient. I’m willing to be any and all that she needs. I’ve left her clues, pieces of my puzzle. My story will unravel the truth for her. She’ll find me. No, ours is not a love story. Ours comes with a warning. And it’s not over yet. Of course, no one heeds warnings. If ours began with a beware, my story begins with a threat. Do not enter. I was spawned in hell itself.

Six weeks on the run, and this is the first time I’m in danger of being caught.

And I am lured. Completely. She owns my entire being. Flesh and bone. My black soul belongs to her. With one look, she takes me down. If she demands I kneel right here, I’ll drop to my knees, offer penance for my sins as I plead for her to devour me.

“I found you.”

London’s petite body molds seamlessly against mine, making me whole. My other half. Two puzzle pieces sliding together. A perfect fit. I drag my palm up her thigh, memorizing the feel of her soft skin all over again. “God, you’re real.” Her breathy whisper teases my ear. “In the flesh.”

“You did this,” I whisper harshly to her. “You brought me here.” Her glossy lips twist into a sultry smile. “I had to.”

She’s fire and life. She brings color to my world. I’ve been waiting a lifetime for her without even realizing she was the missing part of me. Flesh of my flesh.

“Grayson,” she says, her voice filled with raw emotion. “I found a way for us to be together.”

“You have to trust me.” Her body sways, and I follow her lead as she guides us off the wall and into a slow dance. “You gave me a choice once, now I’m offering you one.”

“Down the rabbit hole,” I say, remembering the moment on the hospital roof when I offered her my hand. She lays her head against my chest. “Together.”

She guided me here.

A portrait of the wicked and sinful. She’s the artist and I’m her canvas, waiting for her to complete our story.

“I think if I’ve come all this way, placing myself right in the path of bloodhounds, you’re going to prove it.” “Didn’t I prove it when I dunked a pedophile in a tank of acid?” Her words seethe with righteous anger. I smile at the memory of our first kill. “Your hands still look clean,” I say in a hushed tone. “I want to see them dirty. I want to see them red.”

If she only realized just how much control she has over me…the damage she could do.

The damned. Killers.

She makes me fucking reckless.

A heady groan works its way free. She’s breaking me. I’ve never danced with anyone before. Never had the chance. Never craved the experience. Until her.

Sweet. Fucking. Perfection. We can be free. Free to experience every beautiful sensation that was denied to the both of us.

“I’m afraid I can’t allow your filthy hands to mar this beautiful creature.” Grayson’s voice is deep and steady. Outside the club, with no loud music or interference, I can hear the lilt of his Irish accent and the subtle, sensual bass notes that slip over my skin like the silkiest material. “Turn around, baby,” Grayson says, and I spin slowly to face my attacker.

Grayson has stolen his power, his control—his virility.

Yet there’s so much more beneath his disorder. The man is methodical. His high intelligence alone adds layers of complexity to his psyche…and then there’s the development of a disempathetic type.

that a psychopathic criminal has developed feelings for one woman. Not just feelings. Love.

There is some unique chemistry between Grayson and I that can’t be summed up with blanket terminology or compared to love. It defies reason. And as I watch him guide our victim into the abandoned warehouse, I admit, I even fear him.

“My sick matches your sick,” I whisper to him.

“This was supposed to be a reunion present for my girl. I’ve been fantasizing about this moment for a while…watching her get the chance to play…”

As I slip my hand beneath my black skirt, I see only Grayson. The man who challenged my sanity and brought me back from the brink. I’m alive—truly alive—only when I’m with him.

She could snap your mind like a twig without breaking a sweat, then have you groveling at her feet, begging her to do it again, before you slit your own throat just to make the torment end.”

“Maybe neither of us are worthy,” Grayson continues, “but you’re absolutely fucking beneath her.”

Where I was molded into a killer against my will, Grayson is liberating me of that experience. Reinventing it; making it ours.

“I want to know every part of your body,” I say, my fingers coming to rest below his mouth. I sweep my finger across his bottom lip, loving the softness, the hunger that surges within me to kiss him.

“Does that mean you’re in love with me?” “Do you need the declaration?” “Yes,” he says honestly. “I’m in love with you, Grayson. I’m not incapable of love…I’ve just never been inspired before now. And I don’t want to be separated from you again.”

“Only because of my insight, Grayson. Because of what the mind dictates. But I believe you love me. In your own way. That you will try to protect me.” “Am I capable of hurting you just the same?”

“I love the look on your face right now,” Grayson says as he feathers my hair over my shoulder delicately. “Like someone is about to suffer.”

“It feels holy—like an epiphany.” “Epiphany,” he repeats, a calm expression softening the sharp lines of his features. That rare dimple carves his cheek. “You were my epiphany.”

Because of her, the question no longer plagues me. Because of me, she has accepted her nature.

The way she lit up when she spoke… How can I deny her this? Even if I know the chances for success are low. I’ve calculated the odds. If we fail—which we most likely will—it will still be a spectacular finale. Her ingenious plan? Bring the copycat to us. To do so, we need a big enough lure. A bright and shiny baited hook that he can’t resist.

But the big fish we want to catch—the reason I’m going through all this trouble—is the imitator himself. The copycat needs to know I’m here.

Her dark eyes widen, and she smiles. “Promise?” I give her a wink. “Our secret, remember?”

But what’s really going to get under their skin is the location. How close I am to London. It’s all going to happen very quickly now.

For her. I was designed to kill…not love. She’s destroyed me.

For me, she’s the answer to every question. And to two fanatical men, she might just hold the key.

I could’ve taken her with me on the run. Settled in Canada. She could’ve even opened a new practice under an assumed name. We could’ve moved around, never staying in one place too long, never getting caught. But what kind of life would that be for her? No, with London’s talents, she deserves better. Bigger. Brighter.