I understand and feel for him because I know how that feels, but I steer toward the positives, hopefully. “Oh, yeah, what plans do you have?”
“Many, but I’ve got a feeling they’re all about to change,” he replies, and I feel an odd, unsettling sensation in my gut.
I inhale deeply, then give a small nod. My eyes drift toward the book sitting on the cabinet, its worn black cover standing out in the room. “You like to read?” I ask, trying to latch onto something neutral.
He follows my gaze to the book before he shakes his head once. “It’s a journal.”
My brows lift in surprise. “You write?”
The idea of him—a man who killed his parents—pouring his thoughts onto paper feels… unnerving, but also so intriguing. He looks at me, his eyes squinting slightly as he takes anotherdeep drag of his cigarette. He holds the moment before finally exhaling and shrugging carelessly.
“They said it could help,” he says. “Getting my thoughts down rather than speaking them out loud.”
“And does it help?”
Just as his lips part to answer, something from the corner of my eye catches my attention—and his. We both turn our heads toward the door to find Dr Moss standing there, watching us. For a moment, his gaze shifts between Ty and me before finally settling on mine.
“How’s it going?” he asks.
I force a small smile, giving a quick nod, though my insides feel like they’re warped with emotions. “Perfect,” I lie because really, this feels anything but perfect, but at least Ty is starting to give me a little something to write down on this damn pad.
“That’s great, Ms. Tate,” Dr Moss replies. “Meet me in my office when you’re finished up here. There’s a couple more patients I’d like you to meet today.”
“Of course,” I respond.
I watch him leave until it’s just me and Ty again—just the two of us, alone in the thick, tense silence.
“Is there anything else I can help you with?” I question.
But he just stares at me, blankly again, offering nothing and the quiet stretches out until I realize this is it. We’re done here. I close my notepad slowly, and stand.
“It was really nice meeting you, Ty,” I say gently, trying to keep my voice even. “If I don’t see you before your release, I wish you nothing but the best.”
I begin to move toward the door, but after only a few steps, I feel a sudden grasp on my wrist—locked and firm. My heart jerksinto my throat, and I whirl around, eyes wide. Ty’s no longer seated. He’s standing now, towering over me. Damn, this man has got to be around six and a half foot.
I hold my breath as my gaze travels over his firm torso. His presence is overwhelming, his body so close, too close, the heat from him seeping into my skin. I tilt my head back to meet his eyes, my chest tightening as he steps forward, closing the already small distance between us until our bodies are pressed together. I swallow hard, the movement of my throat betraying my anxiety as he leans in, ghosting over my lips.
He moves so fast I barely register it before his fingers clamp around my jaw, tilting my head sharply to the side. My entire body stiffens, instinct screaming at me to push him away, but I can’t—I’m frozen under his hold.
With his other hand, he gently brushes my hair away revealing my ear, the soft, almost tender motion a strange opposite to the strong hold on my jaw. His thumb slowly drags down the line of my jaw until it’s lingering on the edge of my tattoo behind my ear. That’s when it clicks into place—he’s seen it. That’s how he knows my name.
My small raven tattoo.
“Do you know what a raven symbolizes?” he asks, but I don’t answer.
“Evil,” he exhales, the word stabbing into me. “Death.” He pauses, his gaze darkening as he leans in close. “And here you are, like something pulled out of my darkest dreams.”
A shudder runs through me, his intentions becoming clearer every time he talks.
“Be very careful, Little Kitten,” he murmurs, the space between us shrinking until there’s none left. “I can smell your fear,” he continues, “and I fucking like it.”
The growl that rumbles from his chest makes my head spin. “And so will everyone else here,” he stops, the words dangling between us before he adds, almost as an afterthought, “But this place is the least of your worries now.”
Before I can even process what he just said, he inhales deeply, the sensation of his nose brushing against my neck sending a jolt through me and my eyes flutter shut involuntarily.
“Ty,” I whisper, his name laced with a desperate edge as I try to pull back to create some distance. But he’s faster. His hand slides to the small of my back, pressing firmly, locking me against him. There’s no breaking away, his grasp tightening just enough to remind me of the power he holds between us.
“Fucking call for them,Raven,” he taunts, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Tell them I’m touching my new therapist inappropriately. Get me locked up for another fifteen years. Save yourself from me.”