Leaning over him, I reach up and place the chess piece in his open palm, helping him fold his weak fingers around the white queen. “Smothered mate is technically a mating pattern,” I say. “It might be the knight’s play, but it’s the queen’s sacrifice that sets the trap.”
I press my lips to his ear and whisper, “Checkmate.”
His throat works on a swallow. “I knew you could strike with a dirty gambit, but damn, baby. That’s brutal.”
“You had it coming.”
As I straighten, his gaze follows me. “Yeah, I did.” A faint smile tugs at his mouth, and my gaze is drawn to the scratches on his cheek where my nails raked his face. “But what was your sacrifice?”
I hold his gaze a measure longer, letting him see the pain of exactly what I’ve given up. In this game, there are no winners.
A serious note deepens his voice as he demands, “But why risk it? You got inside here, got my access code. What you apparently wanted. Why take it this far. Why fuck me, Collins. Let me do…that.” His voice breaks, the candor he usually exhibits catching in his throat, and he releases a clipped breath. “Why risk your heart,” he finally says.
I break his gaze, mine wandering over the intricate ink covering his chest. I rise slowly and move over him, straddling his thighs. Palms braced to his stomach, I feel the flex of his abdominal muscles beneath my touch.
“There’s power in surrender,” I say, meeting his eyes through the dark. “I needed you to let your guard down fully, to trust me completely.”
A flash of raw anger ignites in the depths of his teal eyes. “I would’ve given you anything you asked of me.”
Except the truth.The thought lodges like a blade, buried deep. I waited for that truth to come in the shower, for him to let me all the way in.
As I make a move to pull away, urgency tightens his voice. “At least give me some kind of an answer. Something—anything.” A ragged breath escapes him, then: “Your name.”
I hesitate only a beat. “Hollyn Elara Cawthorn,” I say, a whisper of a name that lances the bruised organ beneath my ribs. “But her story is far too complicated. So I chose this one for myself.” A dejected half-smile tugs at my lips. “Something we have in common.”
“We have more than one thing in common, angel. The symmetry is uncanny.”
More than he knows.
“She died a long time ago, though. Which is why you had to have altered the code, either deliberately or unconsciously. Because, as Collins Rayne Holbrook is a ghost, that name should’ve never flashed across your screen as one of your victims, Reaper.”
A cold flicker of betrayal passes behind his eyes, swift and cutting.
I inhale a fortifying breath, spine straightening. “I was the one who issued the moniker,” I tell him honestly. “It’s technically frowned upon, but it helped me feel closer to you, connected somehow, giving you a name. I’m a psychopathologist with ViCAP—or I was, before I went rogue. Databases are my special interest.”
He licks his lips as his gaze sharpens, shadowed by wary curiosity.
“I also specialize in abnormal psychology and maladaptive behaviors,” I add, letting the truth pour free now. “I’ve conducted over forty interviews with violent offenders. You’re number forty-one.”
Orion remains so utterly still beneath me, it’s unnerving.
“Before I came to Stonehurst, I was hunting an existential killer. One who was using a high-level, algorithmic database to locate untraceable offenders. I had a narrow window to find him. And damn—” I curl my fingers over his warm skin, reverent as I touch him, feel him “—he was the most sophisticated offender I had ever encountered.”
“Is that right,” Orion says, a rough groan escaping as my nails graze his skin.
I rock my weight against him, unable to curb a faint smile. “I found him beautiful,” I confess, “the brilliance of his mind, the artistry of his scenes. From the very first one, I knew he could help me…if only I could find him. Yet that felt impossible.” My palms settle at his hips, thumbs slipping just beneath his waistband, drawing a shiver from his body.
“But then he left me a clue.” My voice softens, intimate. “Which, that wasn’t like him. He was too meticulous, too organized and exacting to make such a careless mistake. But I was so consumed by my obsession—with him, with his algorithm—that I didn’t start to process this fact until recently.”
“Shit,” Orion mutters, breath ragged. “That’s why I couldn’t uncover anything substantial on you. Your background was scrubbed. Thought I was losing my goddamn mind.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Not completely.”
A taunting smile touches his lips. “That feels unprofessional.”
“If you wanted professional, perhaps you shouldn’t have fucked your therapist.”
“I still want to do nothing more.” A slow, devious smile twists his mouth, and he drags his teeth over his bottom lip. “Since you’re up here…” He bucks his hips beneath me. “Why don’t you go ahead and sit on my face, angel.”
