I know my own mind again, even through the cloud of rage. When I amp up like that, it usually goes to a red haze.

And then bad things happen. Bad things that make me feel good.

Alison’s done a great job calming it all down. She doesn’t seem too calm herself, but she has Bear and the other guy completely at ease.

“I’ll take full responsibility. He’s calm now—I can tell. I’m his doctor.”

Officer Hanks lumbers off slowly. I take a few steps back, so I’m in Alison’s office.

These guys are all on my side, anyway. That might be why I didn’t get beaten senseless. They have a greater loyalty to me than to the other guards.

Bear stumbles into his seat, getting himself back under control, pressing himself up against the wall. Alison shuts the door hard, places her hands on her hips, and faces me.

“What. Just. Happened? Jaxon? What was all that about?”

“Did you hear how he spoke to me?” I snap. “All I tried to do was be nice and—”

I stop mid-sentence. Her eyes are clouding up, and she’s folded her arms now. I need to be smart about this. I can see she’s a bit shaky, and I don’t know if its fear…

There’s something about her red lips that makes me think it might be more than that.

I take a deep breath, clenching my fists briefly, then relaxing through the arms and spine.

I do this consciously. As I do, I run a hand over my face, willing myself to let go of the tension. As I pull my hand back down, I let my shoulders stoop and my face relax.

“Hey, buddy,” I say as I open the door and move into the doorway, making sure to keep my distance from Bear for Alison’s sake. I meet his eye through the red streaks on his face.

“I’m really sorry, man. Honestly, it’s cool. I’m sick, you see. That’s why Dr. Hughes is here, after all. I’m a work in progress. I’m really sorry.”

She smiles, standing to the side of me, looking between me and Bear. Her arms are still crossed, but she looks more relaxed.

This would be an affirmation of not just her skills, but her influence over me. She doesn’t just want to feel like a hot-shot doctor—she wants to know she has power over me.

She has no fucking idea how much.

“Say, how would you like it if I arrange for you to meet up with some of my guys?” I ask. Bear looks up at me like a confused dog.

“You know, all that stuff I was talking about before? I’ll make it up to you, I swear,” I tell him. “You can buy your lady some nice things, spoil her. Heck, I can even get you those cruise tickets.”

Alison is beaming now. She’s going soft all over, and even though her arms are still crossed, she is lightly stroking her own arm with a finger. I think she wants to be touching me.

“What do you say, pal? I’ll make it all up to you. Just for losing my cool.” I grin at him, and I know it’s probably not friendly-looking.

I can’t help it. Sometimes my true intent leaks out.

“We’re okay, aren’t we?”

Bear nods, hand on his nose. “No problem here, Mr. Covington. None whatsoever.”

He leans against the wall as Alison instructed him to do earlier. I doubt he’s going to wait out the session—probably just wait for her to shut the door before he wanders off to medic. Let’s just hope he remembers to send someone else to pick me up.

I turn and look at Alison. She gestures with her hand, and I go in and take my seat in front of her desk. She goes to the other side and sits down, quickly picking up some papers.

The ‘click’ of her shoe on the carpet. She must lightly slide it off with her toes, then slip it back on. I find it adorable.

I wonder if it’s something that developed later in life, or something she’s always done. Like people who stick their tongue out while they’re concentrating, like kids coloring with crayons.

“I’m very impressed, Jaxon. That was some excellent progress you showed there.” She looks up at me with a very wide, bright, honest smile.

It lights her eyes. I bring my hands up to my chest, lightly massaging my right hand with my left.

The right hand has a nice red mark from hitting something, though I’m not sure what. I’m not actually hurt, but it seems the thing to do. She looks at my hand and frowns.

“Are you okay? Do you need medic? I’m sorry, I didn’t think…”

“No, no.” I wave her suggestion away. “I’m okay, really. It’s nothing. Self-inflicted by my own stupidity. I can take it.”

She smiles again, and it’s more than her smiles have been before. Really warm and full of emotion but…somehow calculating.

It kinda turns me on.

“Do you feel like explaining what just happened?”

“No, not really.”

“Why is that?”

“It’s complicated. I just felt he was against me for a second, and I reacted before I could think.”

“Don’t you see these fits of emotion as a weakness? An insult to your intelligence?”

She looks up at me, and her eyes are a very clear green and are very serious. She’s saying all the right words for a psych. All the right questions.

But her tone is all off. I can’t quite puzzle it out.

Suddenly, I’m sure that even while she’s trying to tell me my violent outbursts are a weakness, she’s thinking about it.

She’s thinking about watching me pound into that big stupid fuck.

It’s like our minds are connected. Our bodies are puppets in some fucking bullshit Brady show where they have to say and do the right things…

But our minds, our souls are joined beyond, in a realm where those things make no sense. Where the masks society forces you to wear are not shields or weapons, but hindrances.

I keep massaging my hand.

“I don’t think my intelligence has anything to do with it.”

She raises her eyebrows, and I realize my remark could be taken several ways. I have a laugh, and so does she.

“Okay, I see your point,” I say. “But very intelligent people are still prone to fits of emotion. Sometimes, less able to handle it than the rest of humanity with a lower IQ.”

I lean forward on to the table, looking at her intently.

“Take you, for example. Smart. Very intelligent. Yet you experience emotions you don’t know how to deal with.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, I think it is. Every time you see me act violently, you seem to get more curious about me—even though it’s your job to help me control my outbursts.”

She frowns. “What do you mean ‘more curious’?”

I shrug. “It’s just a theory. I don’t claim to know you so well that I could tell the difference. To me, there just seems to be a change in your stance, like something…draws you to my violence.

“Are you interested in the place where intelligence meets aggression? In how a very controlled, smart person can completely lose their humanity in a number of seconds, all because of a certain trigger?”

She’s staring straight at me. Her eyes are focused on mine. Her cheeks are just slightly pink.

She licks her lips. “That’s not uncommon for people practicing in psychiatry or psychology. You are an interesting case, Jaxon.”

My smile grows wider. “You’re interested in me?”

“Very interested,” she says softly, and now she does blush, properly. She can’t continue to meet my gaze and looks at the desk, shuffling her papers.

“Are you always going to avoid moments like that when we share intimacy?” I let my voice leak out, child-like, plaintive.

When she looks back up, I’m a bit crumpled in my chair, looking hurt. It’s real, but I am milking it a bit. I think she’ll respond.

“Intimacy?”

“Yes. Whenever we have a moment of complete understanding, you deflect me. You distract yourself. You’re smart. You’re also a master of the mind. Surely, you know what deflection like that means. Or at least suggests.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her cheeks are flaming, but she’s trying to pull herself under control.

This is good. I decide to antagonize her a little.

Let’s see if I can get her to have an emotional outburst. I’m not sure she’s ever had one.

This could be the key to unlocking this sacred tower, the path to my princess’ heart. Get her to feel. Strip away the hard mask she wears too close to her skin.

Show her what it feels like to feel.

“I’m sure you don’t.” I smile back at her and wait for the next question to come. I can tell by her body language that she is aroused—I think I know it better than she does.