I stride through the halls quickly to my office. I plan on getting the assessment done, but I know my mind’s a mess. I don’t think this has ever happened to me before. Thoughts are teeming through my head, rising and falling, and I just can’t focus.

I get to my office, slam the door and lean against it. The wood is cool, even through the layers of my clothing. I sink down against it and sit on the floor. I can’t seem to make it to my desk.

The doctor in me is admonishing me gently. Get a window open. Get a coffee or something else to eat. Basic grounding tools. Breathe deeply and have nourishment. It will always make you feel better.

Perversely, I ignore this good advice and sit quietly on the floor, running through my encounter with Jaxon.

Just thinking of him makes him so real, it’s like he’s in the room with me. I can see his eyes; the way they look into mine, the way they seem to see something no one else can see.

I feel naked in front of him, and even though I’m embarrassed and terrified…I must admit, I’m also powerfully aroused.

Occasionally, fits of arousal had come over me. I usually try to work through it because I don’t want the distraction of a relationship in my life, but I refuse to have casual sex either.

It’s probably the greatest contradiction in my life—I’m only prepared to share myself sexually with one, very special person. I don’t have time to bond and build such a relationship just to have it all fall apart.

I’m almost fanatically private and shy about taking off my clothes. I’m not going to do it for random strangers—I don’t know how anyone could. I’ve studied various types of nymphomania, of course. These people seem to lack the inhibition of other humans to show their bare skin. Their lust overpowers it.

The kind of lust I’m feeling right now is quite enlightening in that sense. I can understand how a person would be driven to seek out a stranger and fuck them.

I don’t want a stranger. I want Jaxon.

I know how stupid and selfish it is, but I let my mind wander. I give in to it.

I had found him interesting right from the first glimpse. Talking to him had impressed and intrigued me. I was already beginning to feel a physical attraction.

But the violence…Oh, god. It wasn’t until he flung himself across the room and set himself on the other man that I felt the real stab between my legs.

Watching him punch the fuck out of the other guy. Blood flying in small glittering drops. The raw power of the male body unleashed and tearing into its prey.

It’s so primal. Of all that I’ve learned about the mind—this, I think, is what I’ve been searching for. Evidence that we’re still monkeys.

That the most intelligent, most controlled, are still ruled by those basic instincts.

I can feel my cheeks burning just from the idea of touching him…and of him touching me. My mind feels as hot and slippery as my pussy right now and I don’t even recognize it.

Sharply, I pull myself back together. This is ridiculous. Indulging in these thoughts is not going to do me any good.

The icy control I’ve always depended on comes back, but slowly. I breathe deep, mentally whipping myself.

He’s a criminal.

Insane.

I’m his doctor.

Just a few reasons why my reaction—and the desire to indulge myself—are very bad ideas. I know what I have to do. I need to own up and say I’m not mature enough for this case.

I need to be reassigned.

The idea is painful. A silly little selfish part of my heart cries, desperate to see him again. I can’t bear the thought of walking away.

I have to. An act of violence from one of my most dangerous patients has arisen in me an attraction that I can’t control. I’m not an idiot. I have to protect myself, and my patient. He needs to be helped, not drooled over.

I decide to go up to my boss’ office when he messages me at that exact moment. I hurry upstairs and let myself into the head doctor’s room.

“Sit down, Alison, sit down.” He gestures to a chair in front of his huge desk and I take it. He has a large office—twice the size of mine. Various awards are framed and proudly displayed hanging from the walls.

He has an assortment of plastic body parts on the corner of his desk, one of which is a brain in many pieces. He flips through some paperwork as I wait.

“Now, I understand you interviewed Jaxon Covington today. How did that go?”

He stares at me, chewing on the end of an unlit pipe as he squints. That’s the tough thing about working in psychology. Everyone’s always trying to shrink you. The worst part is that you know it, and are trying to display ‘correct’ personality traits in response.

It’s a challenge I usually rise to.

“It was fine, sir, but—”

“I understand there was an incident of violence, yes? Did this upset you?”

He’s still looking at me too hard. I squirm slightly as I remember the sound of flesh smacking flesh, the thudding of bone.

“I was surprised, sir. But not upset, no.”

“Very good, dear. You’ve shown excellent work so far. The Covington case is quite a rare one. Very tough. I would like for you to take over it completely.”

“Sir, with all due respect, I must excuse myself from this case.”

He puts down the pipe and looks me square in the face.

“Why?”

I struggle to keep my face from flaming red. He can’t know the real reason. I’ll be finished as a doctor.

“I—ah—I’m having some issues with—”

“Alison.”

“Yes, sir?”

“You wish to move forward with your doctorate quickly, am I right?”

“Yes.”

“You want to run your own practice by the time you’re 30, don’t you?”

I sigh. “Yes, I do.”

He picks up the pipe to chew on it again.

“Then you must take this case. I met Jaxon when he was brought in. He didn’t take to me. He was hostile and difficult to most doctors—particularly if they’re men. I’ve watched the tape from the security cameras. He seemed to have taken quite a shine to you.”

“Yes. The conversation was good, but I still consider him to be a hostile patient.”

“Of course. Under crimes like these, we can see him as nothing else. The difference is you made some headway with him, more than even I could. I don’t think anyone else can take this case, Alison.”

I look down at my hands in my lap. What can I say? I want the case. At the same time, I don’t want it. I came here to give it away.

“Alison.”

I look up at the doctor. “Yes?”

“Are you frightened of him? There are guards there to protect you. You can see him in a secure room with his hands chained, if you feel it’s necessary.”

“I didn’t feel frightened; not of him, exactly. He’s an intriguing case.”

“That’s what I’m telling you. Not only is it a great opportunity to expand your skills, but it’s very high profile. Don’t think we’re the first psychs to take a crack at Covington—it’s been tried. We have him in a unique position, as his mental health program is now court ordered. But believe me, a lot of doctors have tried and failed here. Can you imagine the prestige if you manage to treat him? You could work anywhere in the world. Any hospital you choose would fall at your feet to have you.”

It’s really sad that three days ago, that would’ve excited me more than anything.

Now, I’m more excited by the thought of just seeing Jaxon.

For some reason, the idea of seeing him in chains is tantalizing. Just seeing him is like taking a sip of water to a dying man. I feel ripples of relief running through me.

I’m going to take him on.

“I have no objections, sir. I understand exactly what you’re saying. I’ll be pleased to pursue this.”

“Excellent. Then I shall assign him to you officially, and he’s all yours to do with as you see fit.”

Dangerous words. Very dangerous.

I can feel something awakening, slowly, inside me.

Something dark.

Something hungry.

It feels good.