Page 73 of The Psychopaths

While she’s here, I’ll use her to get revenge on my brother. I gently caress the soft curve of her jaw. Perhaps my brother was right, and she’ll never want the monster. Not like she wantshim.

And as badly as I want Lilian in my bed, her pussy pulsing around my cock while my name escapes her lips, I also want to use her for revenge, and separating the two seems impossible.

I guess we will see which side wins.

Lilian

The walk across campus feels like some kind of performance—the flawless Hayes heir guiding his delicate stepsister back to her dorm. Except Arson isn’t performing anymore. He moves with a predator’s prowl, a jarring contrast to Aries’s deliberate cadence. Every subtle shift in his posture has me on edge, making me painfully aware of his presence.

He’s close enough that his arm brushes mine occasionally, and each time it’s like being zapped by an electric current. He’s constantly moving, his gaze scanning our surroundings, shoulders tense, his fists clenched. He’s barely contained violence, one pinprick away from exploding.

I look away as soon as he catches me watching him.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he says under his breath as we approach the dorm.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re waiting for me to snap.” His hand finds my lower back as he gives me a gentle but firm push forward.

“Sorry; you’re just different. It’s weird to see you beingyou, after you playedhimfor such a long time.” His touch lingers longer than necessary, and I lean into it for a moment, testinghim. His fingers dig in a little harder, a warning without spoken words.

“Well, get used to it. I have no need to pretend to be that coward anymore.” There’s so much hate in his voice it’s suffocating.

Once we’re in my room, the tension climbs higher. The space is too small for both of us, mainly him and his looming frame. He immediately checks the windows, closet, even under the bed—methodical, practiced movements speaking of institutional paranoia.

I brush off his worry and start packing, hyper-conscious of his prowling. Every time I reach for something, his eyes are on me, tracking the movement. When I bend to grab a pair of shoes from under the bed, his breath hitches audibly.

“Hurry up,” he growls.

“I’m sorry, is my packing an inconvenience to you?” I deliberately take my time folding a sweater before placing it in the bag. “I told you that you could stay back at the warehouse instead of tagging along, but you didn’t listen.”

He steps closer, heat radiating off his body. “And let you get yourself killed. Think again. I still need you. Now, stop being difficult and hurry the fuck up.”

“Stop being paranoid. I can’t focus on packing when you’re being all caveman-like.” I shiver involuntarily when his hand brushes my hip as he reaches past me to grab one of the medication bottles on my dresser.

“This all of it?” He studies the labels. “The heart meds?”

“Yes.”Why does he want to know? I can’t help but wonder what else he has planned?

“Why? Are you planning to drug me like you drug Aries?”

I watch as his grip tightens on the bottles, the plastic creaking under the pressure. “What I plan to do or not do with you is my choice. Finish packing and move faster.”

“I’m going as fast as I can,” I grumble angrily as I turn around. I make note of the dilation in his pupils, the slight flare of his nostrils as he sucks a harsh breath into his lungs. I can’t tell if he’s turned on or furious.

“Not fast enough.” His free hand shoots out, grasping my chin almost painfully. “I don’t think you’re ready to find out what happens when you disobey me, so stop with the antics.” He acts uninterested, but his body says otherwise. I notice the way his gaze drops to my lips, and how his thumb brushes my jaw almost unconsciously.

The waves of violence and desire pouring off him make my head spin.

Instead of giving into desire and making the first move I choose to tempt fate a little and reach around him for another sweater, letting my body brush against his. His grip on my chin tightens in warning.

“Just packing,” I tell him innocently. “Like you asked.”

His low growl suggests he’s not fooled by my performance.Good. I’m counting on it.He releases his hold on me and takes a couple of steps back. I try to ignore the way my heart aches at the disappearance of his touch.

“Those men,” I say casually, folding a shirt that definitely doesn’t need folding. “They said you’re behind schedule.”

Arson stills by the window, his reflection in the glass turning predatory. “Don’t.”

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