CONTENTS

Bonus Epilogue
Psycho Preview
“Are they too tight?”
Noah rotated his wrists, glancing up to where his hands
were bound together and anchored to the bed with black
silk cord. “No, I think it’s good.”
Adam paced at the foot of the bed. “Feet?”
Noah repeated the process with his ankles, the rope a
soft caress against his skin. “We’re good.”
Being bound for Adam was Noah’s favorite pastime.
They did it often. Adam never tired of keeping Noah
hostage, and he never tired of Adam in the role of
predator. He was sexy any day, without even trying, but
never so much as when he was shirtless, sweatpants
hanging low on his hips, his gaze tracking Noah’s every
movement, no matter how minute. Yeah, that just did it for
Noah.
It wasn’t often Adam wanted him on his back like this.
Usually, he was face down, completely oblivious to what
would come next. But this was better—or maybe a little
worse. Like this, Noah could see Adam open their toy box,
could see him holding up vibrators, whips, floggers,
examining each item like he was choosing his weapon.
When he saw Noah watching him, he pulled something
from the box and crossed the room, tugging soft material
over Noah’s head. A thick black eye mask. The fabric was
gentle on his skin, but it left him totally blind.
“That’s better,” Adam said, tone smug.
Noah’s already hard cock throbbed. “Adam…”
Adam captured his lips in a dirty kiss, thrusting his
tongue inside before the bed dipped and Adam
disappeared once more. This was the hardest part. The
waiting. Sometimes, he was sure Adam left and made
himself a sandwich or something, leaving Noah to wait and
wonder and worry if maybe this time he wouldn’t come
back. Bound and blind, time seemed to drip like molasses.
Adam liked making him wait, making him nervous. He
said Noah’s fear and nervous energy was intoxicating. And
the way Adam tried to bury himself in Noah’s scent made
him wonder if the predator in Adam could really smell his
distress.
Noah gasped as something tickled along his thigh and
over his balls before disappearing again. A feather? He
was already hard and leaking. Even the slightest touch had
his nerve endings shivering with pleasure. Fuck, he loved
playing like this with Adam.
A startled breath escaped at the sudden sting of leather
slapped over the taut peaks of his nipples, first one, then
the other. The riding crop snapped against his skin at close
range. Perspiration formed on his forehead. The feather,
once more, brushed his skin, this time running along the
underside of his shaft. Then it was gone.
And so it went. The soft touch of the feather floated
over him, his nipples, his neck, his ribs, only to suddenly
disappear, replaced by the sharp slap of the leather trailing
fire anywhere it landed. Noah had no idea how long they
played like this, but when the mattress finally dipped and
the heavy weight of Adam pressed down on his chest, he
shivered, hoping he was done teasing him. He moaned as
the head of Adam’s cock rubbed over his lips.
“Open,” Adam ordered.
Noah did as he was told, forcing himself to relax as
Adam’s weight shifted and he slid his cock into Noah’s
mouth, running it over his wet tongue.
“Suck.”
Noah nursed obediently, reveling in the taste of clean
skin and the scent of soap, his own erection throbbing as
Adam’s fingers twisted in his hair, feeding him his cock an
inch at a time until each roll of his hips had the head
grazing the back of his throat, cutting off his air supply until
he was dizzy from it.
“Good boy. I love fucking your mouth almost as much
as I love your ass.” Noah couldn’t answer; his mouth was
full and his head was fuzzy. He was floating in that hazy,
warm place he went when he and Adam played like this.
That didn’t stop Adam’s stream of consciousness dirty talk.
“You fucking love sucking my cock, don’t you, baby? My
good boy.” He pulled his cock free, tapping it against
Noah’s spit slick lips before slapping his face hard enough
to make him moan.
“You know I do,” Noah said, not recognizing his own
raw voice.
Adam shifted, and suddenly, his breath was fanning
over Noah’s lips. “Yeah, I know. But I want the fucking
words.” He tugged at Noah’s nipple, then soothed over it
with his thumb. “Let me hear it, baby.”
Before Noah could say anything, Adam’s phone rang,
causing his head to turn towards the table.
Adam gripped his chin, tugging him back, his lips
pressed to his ear. “Don’t look over there. There’s nothing
for you over there. Look at me. Say it. Tell me how much
you fucking love it.”
“I love sucking your cock,” Noah whispered. “So much.
But I love fucking it more. Please, Adam.”
Adam chuckled, then made a frustrated noise low in the
back of his throat when his phone began to ring once
more. Ignoring it, he tongued over Noah’s nipples, biting
and sucking at them until Noah whimpered.
“I love it when you make that sound. Makes my dick so
hard. Fuck, you smell so good.” The phone started ringing
for a third time, and Adam sat up with a huff. “What in the
actual fuck?”
“It could be an emergency,” Noah cautioned.
Adam shifted, and Noah imagined he was reaching for
his phone. Then he growled, “Somebody better be fucking
dead.” Noah’s heart plummeted, and his erection flagged
as Adam’s voice sharpened. “What happened?”
Was somebody dead? Injured? Incarcerated?
Adam’s voice took on a certain hesitancy when he said,
“What did she say about him?”
Say? This was about…gossip? Him who? Who triple
tapped somebody’s phone over gossip? The Mulvaney
boys weren’t really the types to worry about gossip unless
it might get them thrown in a prison cell, which, to Noah’s
knowledge, had never happened.
“Who is it?” Noah whispered.
Adam ignored him, saying, “Those aren’t even good
insults.”
August.
Only August would call Adam over and over again
because of hurt feelings. He was—in some ways—childlike
in his moods. He spent so much time thinking about big
global pictures that there was little left in terms of
humanity. This had to be about August’s new crush. What
was his name? Oh, yeah. Lucas.
August was furious because somebody was mean to
Lucas. If it was anybody else, Noah would have found it
amusing, but he knew first hand that a mildly
inconvenienced psychopath could be worse than an
infuriated non-psychopath any day. And August seemed
very, very into his new friend.
“I get it, but you gotta rein it in, bro, or Dad will try to
take him away from you. So, pull it together, okay? Good
talk.”
Noah winced. Things were bad when Adam was the
voice of reason.
Noah snickered as Adam said, “He’s a little…tied up
right now.”
His laugh became a mewling sound as Adam’s hand
closed around his now only half-hard cock, slowly jerking
him back to attention. “Hnf.”
Noah couldn’t see Adam but he seemed to be
multitasking just fine, talking to his brother like he wasn’t
sending shockwaves of pleasure over Noah with each tug.
“Do you have any idea how long it takes to tie these
restraints, bro? He’ll call you later.” There was a long-
suffering sigh. “Yes. Literally. I have him literally tied to our
bed right now. Call back later.”
Noah’s face grew flaming hot. “Oh, my God, Adam. You
cannot just tell people you have me tied to the bed.”
Adam tightened his fist, twisting on his upward stroke.
“Why not? You are. Besides, it’s not people. It’s August.”
To August, he said, “He’ll call you later.” Then his voice
perked up. “A date?”
“Put him on speakerphone,” Noah demanded, even as
he pumped his hips upward into Adam’s tightened fist.
“You can’t be serious?” Adam asked.
Noah rolled his eyes, even though Adam couldn’t see
it. “I am. He needs our help.”
“Ugh, fine. Five minutes. That’s all you get. You hear
me? Five.”
Noah didn’t know whether Adam was talking to him or
August but it didn’t matter. There was a beep and then a
white noise indicating August was in his ugly Mercedes
jeep rip-off.
“Wh—” Noah’s breath hitched as the bed dipped and
Adam’s nose nuzzled against the spot where his hip and
thigh met. “What’s up, dude?”
“I’m supposed to go on a date with Lucas. Like tonight.”
“That’s good,” Noah assured him, voice filled with false
cheer.
“I’ve never been on a date before,” August said.
Noah couldn’t help another sharp inhalation as Adam
licked over his balls before curling his tongue along the
hard length of him. How did he fucking do that? He forced
himself to concentrate. “Okay. Well, where are you going?”
“His place.”
“Oh, yeah. Fuck, keep doing that,” Noah whispered
when Adam closed his mouth over his cock and began to
suck with slow, deliberate pulls, starting at the base then
pulling upwards until only the crown of his erection
remained, before slowing and starting all over again. Adam
had clearly found a new game. Trying to make Noah fall
apart while on the phone.
“Doing what? I’m not doing anything,” August said.
Noah was grateful for how literal August was.
“Not you,” Noah assured.
August sounded mildly irritated as he said, “We’re
supposed to have dinner and talk about his killer ex-
coworker.”
Noah stifled a moan as Adam snickered, the feeling
vibrating along his shaft. “Most people just make small talk
on a first date, but, honestly, this seems right on brand for
you,” he mused.
Adam pulled off Noah with a pop, asking, “Are you sure
it’s a date?” His tone was doubtful.
“It is. I asked. He said yes.” August’s indignant
response was kind of cute.
Sometimes, August ignored major context clues, but
Noah wasn’t about to burst his bubble. This was good for
August. He wanted a person of his own so badly. Still,
Noah couldn’t help the hesitancy in his voice. “Okay, well…
good.”
“Help me,” August begged. “What does somebody do
or say or wear on a first date?”
Adam took Noah back into his mouth once more, his
finger pressing between the cleft of his cheeks, nudging
his thumb against Noah’s entrance. Bastard. Noah’s
breath became shaky. “Adam, stop,” he said, his voice a
pleading whisper.
“You say stop but you don’t mean it,” he whispered
back, his thumb breaching his hole. “Keep talking,” Adam
ordered. How the fuck was Noah supposed to have a
fucking coherent conversation with Adam trying to suck the
soul from his body? Noah bit hard on the inside of his
cheek as Adam’s whisper became a low rumble. “Do it.
Now.”
Fuck. Why was that so hot? He needed to concentrate.
“Um, full disclosure. I’ve never been on a date. Adam just
sort of showed up at my trailer and never left.”
“God, that would make this so much easier.” August
sounded miserable.
Noah wanted to cry when Adam stopped sucking to
say, “Don’t get too dressed up. You’ll look like a dweeb.
Jeans, a nice shirt,” before plunging back into the task of
making Noah fall apart on the phone.
 “Hnf,” Noah managed, hyper-aware of the sucking heat
around his cock and the dry press of Adam’s thumb inside
him, pulsing against his prostate. He was going to come
any minute but he couldn’t very well tell Adam that without
also telling August. “Bring flowers. Oh, or wine.”
This time, Noah didn’t hide his displeasure, openly
groaning when Adam pulled off once more to caution, “Do
not talk about how much you like eviscerating people to
pop music…or your weird obsession with Celine Dion. Or
your knife collection. Or the swords. Or the array of
medieval torture devices you have. Honestly, just steer
clear of weaponry altogether.”
“Wine. Flowers. No evisceration. No Britney or Gaga,”
August reiterated. “I think I can do that.”
Adam disappeared completely, and Noah heard him
say, “Your five minutes are up.”
“Good luck,” Noah called, then moaned as Adam’s
teeth sank into the tender flesh of his inner thigh.
There was a thud like Adam tossed his phone onto the
floor. Noah snickered. He went through so many phones.
Adam stood, causing Noah to temporarily list to the left,
then, suddenly, he could move one foot and then the other.
After a moment, his hands were untied from the headboard
but not from each other. “Are we done?” Noah asked,
frowning behind his mask.
Adam didn’t answer, clearly still in cave man mode. He
tugged Noah upright by his wrists, kissing him deeply. “Roll
over.”
Noah quickly complied.
Adam hiked his hips into the air. Three slick fingers
probed his entrance. He gasped as they pushed inside
without warning, stopping at the second knuckle when they
met resistance.
“Fuck, I love the noises you make,” Adam said, almost
to himself.
“It hurts,” Noah hissed. It wasn’t a complaint.
“Good.” Adam slapped Noah’s ass with his free hand,
working his fingers deeper.
When Noah swayed back, trying to move them where
he needed, they disappeared. He dragged Noah back
against him, his knees between Noah’s thighs. He could
feel the fabric of Adam’s sweatpants gathered beneath
him, like he’d hastily shoved them out of the way. Before
he could so much as take in a breath, Adam was impaling
him on his thick cock. Noah’s mouth opened in a silent cry,
breathless as his body fought to adjust to the invasion,
every nerve ending on fire.
Adam wasn’t interested in giving him more time, it
seemed. He began to move, quickly finding a hard rhythm,
pulling Noah’s hips down on every upward thrust.
“I wanna watch,” Noah begged.
Adam tugged the mask off and even the bathroom light
felt like a spotlight until his eyes adjusted, locking on the
full-length mirror in the corner. Fuck. They always looked
so hot together. Sometimes, they filmed themselves just so
they could watch it later. Maybe it was narcissistic, but
Noah loved the way he looked when he was being used by
Adam, loved how he let himself be the monster Noah
needed in bed.
It was the least of their transgressions in the grand
scheme of things.
Of all the ways they came together, this was one of
Noah’s favorite positions—Adam’s chest to his back, his
lips against his ear so he could whisper whatever filthy
thought popped into his head while he drove into Noah. By
now, he’d imagined the dirty talk might have lost its power,
but it wasn’t the words, it was the raw growl in Adam’s
voice as he said it.
 “Fuck, you’re really tight. I should fuck you unprepped
more often. You’d love that, wouldn’t you? Yeah, look how
much you’re leaking at the thought of being my little fuck
toy. That’s it, work yourself on my cock. You’re so horny for
it. My needy little whore.” His hand threaded in Noah’s hair
briefly to turn his head, capturing his mouth before saying,
“You’re not allowed to come until I do, so you better make
it good.”
It was all lip service. Noah could never explain how
much Adam’s words turned him on. Some people might
find being called slut or whore degrading, but Adam could
make anything sound like a compliment. He wasn’t a
whore but, at that moment, he was Adam’s whore.
“That’s it. Fuck, yeah, you love taking every inch in that
slutty little hole. So dirty for me. So desperate for my cock.”
Noah’s own cock ached, flushed pink, so hard he was
sure one good stroke would be enough to get him there.
“Please, Adam. I need to come. Please. Oh, fuck. You feel
so good. Fuck me harder. Make it hurt. Bite me. I want to
feel your teeth in my skin.”
He’d long since stopped caring if what they were into
was normal or not. The truth was, it didn’t fucking matter to
anybody but them. They weren’t selling tickets. Noah’s
eyes rolled as Adam’s hand closed around his throat,
driving into him hard and fast, chasing his own release.
“Oh, fuck, yes.” Adam sank his teeth into Noah’s
shoulder hard enough for him to cry out, his hips stuttering
beneath Noah before he buried himself deep one final
time, his cock pulsing as he came, filling Noah up.
“My turn,” Noah begged, breathing heavy, his erection
heavy and leaking. “Please.”
“You want my hand or my mouth,” Adam growled in his
ear.
Noah didn’t have to think about his answer. “Hand. I
want you still inside me when I come.”
Adam dribbled lube onto his palm and fisted Noah’s
cock. It was tight and wet and perfect. “There you go,
baby. Fuck my fist. I want to watch you make yourself feel
good.”
Noah’s head fell back against Adam’s shoulder, only
caring about one thing. He needed to come. He was so
ready. He fucked into Adam’s fist, half-bitten moans falling
from his lips with each stroke until he started to babble,
heavy breaths punctuating every word. “Oh, fuck. Just like
that. I’m so close. Oh, fuck. Yes. Adam…”
“Come on, baby. You look so fucking hot like this. Let
me see you come. Show me.”
A cry ripped from Noah, pleasure shivering through his
whole body as he spilled over Adam’s fingers. He
continued to work him until Noah batted his hand away
when he became too sensitive.
After a moment, Adam unceremoniously dumped Noah
onto the mattress, face first, before blanketing himself over
him. Noah shuddered as his cock slipped free. He always
hated that part.
“Do you think August is going to pull this off?” Adam
finally asked.
Noah’s shoulders lifted in an aborted shrug. “I don’t
know. I guess it depends on whether this Lucas guy is the
right kind of crazy.”
“What’s the right kind of crazy?” Adam asked, his
amusement obvious.
“Well, feeling things is hard for you. Not feeling things is
hard for me. But together, we make one barely functioning
human. For this to work, August is going to have to find
somebody crazy enough to date a homicidal maniac but
not so crazy he makes August’s impulse to kill worse.”
“Well, he’s a former FBI agent, so I doubt he’ll use
August like an attack dog, but I also find it hard to believe
that a cop’s life has fallen so off the rails that dating a
serial killer is now on the menu.”
Noah thought about it. “I mean, the guy did ask August
out.”
He watched Adam shake his head from the corner of
his eye. “No, August said he asked him out.”
“August said he asked if it was a date and Lucas said
yes,” Noah reminded him.
“Yeah, but August is so smart it sometimes makes him
really dumb. He’s very literal. Too much so. This guy could
be using my brother, gathering evidence to have us all
thrown in jail.”
Noah’s heart rate skyrocketed. “Doesn’t that scare you
even a little?”
Adam kissed between Noah’s shoulders. “Nothing
scares me except losing you. I doubt they’d let us have
conjugal visits in prison since we’re not married.” After a
brief pause, he said, “Maybe we should get married?”
Noah laughed. “Did you just propose to me so we can
have conjugal visits if August’s new boyfriend has us all
thrown in prison?”
Adam’s finger began to draw lines between Noah’s
freckles. “I mean, we were going to get married eventually
anyway.”
Noah frowned. “We were?”
This was news to him. He always imagined Adam
wasn’t the marrying kind.
“Well, yeah. If I die, you need to be protected. My life
insurance and my trust fund should go to you. If we were
married, you’d be more protected financially.”
Noah simpered. “Aw, all this talk of life insurance and
financial protection is making me feel all warm and tingly
inside. You’re such a romantic.”
 Adam sat up and flipped Noah over, hovering over him.
“I don’t know how to be romantic. A piece of paper isn’t
going to tell me you’re mine. You just are. But that piece of
paper will protect you if anything ever happens to me. It’s
okay if you don’t want to. As long as you don’t leave.”
Noah raised his hands and cupped Adam’s face. “I
didn’t say I don’t want that. I’ve thought about it. I just
didn’t think your proposal would happen because you fear
a lack of conjugal visits…or at all, really.”
Adam jumped off him, walking to the corner of the room
where there was a safe hidden beneath the floorboards.
When he pulled something free and turned around, Noah’s
galloping heart began to sprint. Adam had a ring box. He
climbed back on the bed and straddled Noah’s belly,
opening the box without ceremony. Inside was a chunky
brushed nickel ring. “It’s not the only reason. I was going to
propose to you on your birthday, but given August is dating
a cop, it just seems smart to do it now.”
Noah’s heart felt too big for his chest and he willed
himself not to cry because, as far as romantic gestures
went, this was the Adam equivalent of a hot air balloon ride
or dropping to one knee on the top of the Eiffel Tower.
“So, do you want to or what?” Adam asked, looking
somehow both irritated and intense.
“I don’t know,” Noah said, feigning indifference.
There was a long pause, and Noah watched a hundred
emotions play out over Adam’s face before he said, “You
don’t know?”
“Yeah, how do I know you really want to marry me?”
Noah teased at Adam’s dumbfounded expression.
When Adam caught on, he gave a heaving sigh.
“Because I’m the son of a billionaire and I’m not asking you
to sign a prenup,” he deadpanned.
“Well, when you put it that way.” He brandished his left
hand, waggling his ring finger in Adam’s face.
Adam rolled his eyes but pushed the band into place. It
was cool against his overheated skin. “There. Now, we’re
engaged.”
“Swoon.” Noah laughed, dumping Adam off him to go
to the bathroom. He bounced off the bed only to find
himself dragged into Adam’s lap. “What? I have to pee,” he
cried, wiggling in his lap.
“I maybe love you,” Adam said, words muffled against
his skin.
Butterflies erupted in Noah’s belly. He never got tired of
this silly little game. “I maybe love you, too.”

THE END

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Vivaldi filled August Mulvaney’s ears as he stared down at
his phone screen and the self-evaluation form he was
tasked with filling out by the end of the day. This new
bizarre corporate hoop-jumping was ridiculous to him.
They weren’t a law firm, they were an ivy league university.
Asking a tenured professor to describe themselves in three
words or less was absurd. Most couldn’t describe what day
of the week it was without an APA formatted dissertation
and review board approval.
Three words to describe him? Which him did they
want? The brilliant quirky weirdo or the deviant homicidal
psychopath? Both were true enough, though one was most
definitely more palatable than the other. Yet neither of
them could go on a self-evaluation.
He sighed, gazing out over the quad. The sky overhead
was as ominous as his mood. Dark gray storm clouds
hung low, just waiting to unleash on the students who
refused to yield their space until the last possible moment.
It was uncharacteristically chilly for this time of year. He
took a sip of his coffee, keeping himself tucked up against
the building as he watched the rain move closer. It was
slated to rain all day according to the forecast, but August
put as much stock in forecasts as he did horoscopes.
Bianca Li, an assistant professor of astrophysics,
tucked herself in beside him, tugging her sweater across
her body and wrapping her arms around herself. Her black
hair whipped across her face, and her black framed
glasses sat perilously close to the end of her nose. She
was easily older than August by at least ten years but
could easily still pass for a grad student.
He pulled his earbuds from his ears. “How would you
describe me in three words?” Before she could answer, he
took a finger and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her
nose.
“Weirdo without boundaries?” she asked, batting his
hand away.
“Weirdo was the first thought that came to mind for me
as well. I don’t think that would fly with the board.”
Bianca shrugged. “You’ve got tenure. What are they
going to do about it?” She snapped her fingers. “I got it.
Absent-minded professor.”
August rolled his eyes. “I’m not absent-minded. I
have…selective hearing.”
“Children have selective hearing. You live in your own
world,” she pointed out.
August waved her statement off. “You’re
exaggerating.”
“You almost walked into the fountain…twice.”
She wasn’t wrong. The thing was, August was absent-
minded by choice. When a person is burdened with an
affliction that causes them to remember—verbatim—every
word ever spoken to them, their brains become a chaotic
mess, a tangle of conversations from yesterday and
decades ago. A single word could trigger a cascade of
memories that could trap him in his thoughts for days.
So, August remained selectively absent-minded. His
observations were a thing he’d trained himself to turn on
and off at will rather than lose his mind absorbing pieces of
conversation with every step he took. By shutting out the
things he considered static, he was able to focus on the
things that mattered, like spintronics or light scattering and
optical wave mixing techniques, semiconductor quantum
dots, and, sometimes, even laser physics.
On campus, he rarely interacted with anybody but his
immediate coworkers and, of course, his students. He
made a point to view his surroundings without absorbing
them, never letting his gaze focus on any one thing for too
long unless it was life or death. Yet, the moment he caught
sight of the man walking across the quad, he couldn’t look
away.
The man walked with his hands in his pants pockets,
shoulders hunched against the wind. From where August
stood, he could see he was attractive, though somewhat
haggard, dressed in jeans and a zip front olive green
cardigan. His clothes said faculty, but his messy blond hair
and the two days worth of growth on his perfectly square
jaw screamed student. Maybe he was a teacher’s
assistant.
As August predicted, the sky opened up. Students
hurriedly gathered books and papers, stuffing them in
backpacks before making a run for it. The man didn’t run
but he did pick up his pace, heading straight for August
and Bianca, who stood near the building entrance. When
he passed, he glanced up, locking eyes with August,
holding his gaze for a solid five seconds before turning
away again and disappearing inside the building. His eyes
were a deep green, almost the color of his sweater.
August turned to watch him through the windows of the
corridor, feeling strangely empty once he was out of sight.
He shook his head, taking another sip of his coffee. This
weather made him broody and weirdly sentimental for a
monster.
“He’s pretty, isn’t he? Too bad he’s crazy.”
“Who is he?” August finally asked.
She gave a dreamy sigh. “Lucas Blackwell, Adjunct
Professor of Criminal Psychology.”
August took another sip of his coffee. “Lucas
Blackwell,” he repeated, liking the way the moniker felt on
his tongue. “That doesn’t sound like a real name. They
hired a crazy person to take O’Malley’s job? Doesn’t that
seem counter productive?”
“The whole psych department is batshit crazy. He’ll fit
right in.”
“You seem to know a lot about him,” August observed.
Bianca snorted. “You really don’t know who he is?”
August’s brow furrowed. “Should I?”
Bianca looked him up and down. “You should write
hopelessly oblivious professor on that form. The faculty
has been positively ravenous for all the scandalous details
for weeks, ever since Everly hired him. But, before that, he
was all over the news.”
“Why’s that? He a Kennedy or something?”
She shook her head. “Former darling of the FBI’s
behavioral profiling unit. Whiz kid. Recruited straight from
college because he spoke three languages and had near
perfect test scores on his entrance exam.”
Lucas Blackwell couldn’t have been more than thirty at
most. “Former? Was he injured?”
“You could say that. Suffered some kind of massive
nervous breakdown and was put on permanent desk duty.
They offered him a teaching gig at Quantico, but he bailed
for our school.”
 “How do you know all this?” August asked, somewhat
in awe of her ability to study the asteroseismology of white
dwarfs and stay up to date on the latest campus gossip.
“How do you not know this? I know you’re usually
taxing that big brain of yours with entanglement theories or
whatever, but you love all that spooky shit, and Lucas
Blackwell… He’s spooky.”
“How so?” August’s love of ‘spooky shit’ was well
known around campus. Theoretical physicists weren’t
really known for their love of parapsychology. But they just
considered it another one of his quirks. He supposed it
was.
Bianca leaned in a bit as the rain began to splash their
shoes. “You know how most behavioral profiling is done at
a desk?”
He nodded. “It’s basically making a living out of
educated guessing. I doubt that requires much leg work.”
She snickered. “Well, Lucas was real hands on. Too
hands on. Liked to handle evidence and visit crime scenes.
Said it helped his process.”
“I’m failing to see the spooky,” August said, wanting
Bianca to get to the point before the wind blew the rain any
farther under the overhang.
“It’s pretty fucking out there. Rumor has it, he thinks
he’s… What’s the word when you can get, like, psychic
visions by touching things?”
August’s brows ran for his hairline. “Clairvoyant?”
“Yes! He claims he’s clairvoyant.”
“So, our university hired a mentally unstable
criminologist who claims to have supernatural abilities?”
“Yep.”
August chuckled. “He’ll fit right in.”
Bianca laughed. “You know, this is the most I’ve ever
heard you ask about another human being and I’ve known
you for six years.”
He turned, tossing his coffee cup in the trash. “True, but
your life is mundane. No offense.”
She rushed to keep up with him as he made his way
back towards his office to grab his things.
“You can’t just say no offense after saying something
offensive,” Bianca said, though she didn’t seem offended
in the least.
Nobody could afford to worry about feelings in a field
like theirs. Half the professors on this side of campus had
brains far too complex to hold even the simplest of
conversations. They were all varying degrees of
neurodiverse. The sad truth was, the smarter a person was
the less they bothered with societal expectations. They
spoke in blunt terms without any worry about sentiment.
Scientists couldn’t afford ego. When you dealt in theory,
there was always somebody standing in line ready to tell
you you’re insane or trying to debunk your research. That
was the nature of their work. August was only as…
domesticated as he was because his father had insisted
on it. Being a quirky genius was fine. Being an unfeeling,
uncaring psychopath was not—not in public, anyway.
“There’s a faculty meeting at four. Will you be there?”
“Is it mandatory?” August asked.
Bianca nodded. “Yes.”
August shrugged. “Probably not. I’m having lunch with
my brother before he leaves for the airport.”
“August…”
“I’m a tenured professor. What are they going to do?
Fire me?” he repeated, shooting her a grin.
August went left to the hallway where his office lay, and
Bianca went right to take the long way to the other side of
the campus. When he was alone once more, he replaced
his headphones. Vivaldi had finished, and Chopin now
filled his ears. He let himself disassociate, mulling over his
research assistant’s topic for her thesis.
He didn’t see the other man until they collided. Hard.
August’s phone flew from his fingers. The other man’s
hands shot out, grasping for anything to keep him upright.
August grabbed the man’s forearm just as he gripped
August’s shoulders.
That was when August got a good look at him. Lucas
Blackwell. The moment they touched, the other man
wrenched away with a gasp, falling to the ground and
scrambling away from August like he was a serial killer.
Which, technically, August supposed he was. But
Lucas Blackwell didn’t know that.
Though it was beside the point, August couldn’t help
but notice the terrified man was even more beautiful up
close, like a sculpture come to life. High cheekbones,
square jaw, full lips. Lips that were pulled back in horror.
August extended his hand to help him up, but Lucas
flinched away. “Don’t. Don’t…touch me.”
Apparently, it wasn’t just the physics department that
lacked any sense of decorum. He pulled his now useless
headphones from his ears. “I’m sorry. I was so into my
music that I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
Lucas said nothing, flushing when he noticed the other
faculty members staring at him. He stood, giving one last
panicked look over his shoulder before all but sprinting
down the hallway.
August picked up his phone, sighing at the now
cracked screen. He’d been called off-putting before but
usually only by his brothers after a particularly gruesome
kill. And there were many. August liked the wet work. Liked
getting his hands dirty. Killing gave him a thrill like nothing
else did.
He was almost to his car when it hit him. Bianca said
Lucas Blackwell was clairvoyant. That he could see the
past—or the future, August supposed—simply by touching
an object. August was a logical man. While he found the
paranormal fascinating, he recognized it for what it was,
pseudoscience. There was no way Lucas Blackwell was
actually clairvoyant.
He couldn’t be.
Yet, he’d looked at August like he was a monster.
Which he was. But there was no way Lucas could know
that. It was impossible. But what if he did? What would that
mean for him? His family lived by a code. They didn’t kill
the innocent. But they’d only ever run into this situation
once before, a couple of weeks ago when his brother had
decided to fall in…not love, but maybe obsession, with a
little wounded bird named Noah.
Noah knew their secret, had figured it out before he’d
even met Adam face to face. But Noah was like them. He
understood some people just didn’t deserve to live. Noah
had killed alongside them. He had an investment in
keeping them all off the police’s radar.
But Lucas was a former Fed. He probably believed
strongly in trials and justice and the long arm of the law. He
probably wasn’t a fan of vigilante justice. Which didn’t bode
well for his life expectancy if he truly had somehow figured
out exactly who August was when the mask was off.
Shit.
As much as August loved killing, the idea of chopping
up the pretty blond professor into bite-size pieces left him
feeling hollow. August had never met a problem he
couldn’t solve, but Lucas Blackwell was going to be a
problem. A big one. And August had no idea what the hell
he was going to do about it.
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