Cruel (A Necrosis of the Mind Duet 1)

“You’re absolutely fascinated by yourself,” I say.

He cocks his head, a slight smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “I’m fascinated by you, and what we’ll achieve together.”

“Right. I know how brain scans work,” I say, utter disdain in my voice. “What I want to know is what you plan to do with that information. Build a sex bot? Sell my gray matter on the black market?”

Disappointment registers in the droop of his eyes. There’s still a shadow underneath from the healing bruise, and I realize how damn clever Dr. Alex Chambers really is. How he conned me into believing he was awkward and socially inept—but harmless. A harmless, nerdy scientist who only wanted to spice up his dull life with some thrills.

I was such a conceited tool. The whole time we were together, every second where I was judging him, he was studying me, analyzing my strengths and weaknesses to use them against me.

And I let him.

“Blakely, I was hoping you’ve come to know me better than that.” He drives a hand through his hair, evidently frustrated. “Why would I go through such an arduous identification process simply to…chop you up?” His tone is mocking as he says this, as if selling my body parts would be such a ridiculous stretch compared to simply abducting me.

I adjust myself on the bed. My muscles are becoming stiff from inactivity. “Oh, I don’t know, Alex. Maybe because I don’t know you at all. Everything you let me see and know about you was a lie. You’re an even better manipulator than me.” A hollow laugh escapes. “You’re a fraud, Alex. Which makes you a hypocrite.”

He lowers his head. “You’re right. I did deceive you.” When he looks up, he’s affected genuine remorse in those beautiful pale-blue eyes. “But as you pointed out, you manipulate people in your work to achieve a specific goal. I’m no different. My goal is bigger than me and you, and requires a demanding level of commitment.”

I blow my bangs out of my eyes as I watch him, never blinking through his whole bullshit spiel. “Was your sister just as committed? Is that why she was—”

Alex moves quickly. He has his hand anchored to my jaw, fingers digging into my flesh, before I can finish my sentence. A fierce rage burns in his glare, a side of him I’ve never witnessed before. Interesting.

Jaw clenched, he relaxes his hand, detaching his fingers from my face one at a time. With purposeful movements, he releases me. “Never talk about Mary. Understood?”

I nod slowly.

He straightens his lab coat and resumes his place behind the laptop. “As I was saying, I’m highly committed to this project, and no price is too high to pay to see its completion.”

“Even death?”

The sterile room becomes heavy with his silence. His hesitation answers my question. Before, he said subjects. Plural. There have been others. Alex has taken a life. He’s a killer. That knowledge changes things between us. Where I thought he was simply a bit unhinged, he’s now unhinged and dangerous.

Keeping him calm seems to be the only logical action I can take. What’s the use in begging, in demanding that he let me go? He’s devoted months if not years to his project, and that level of devotion—of delusion—can’t be reasoned with.

My first objective is to get out of this bed. And the way to do that is with trust.

I rub the top of my hand against the scratchy material of the gurney, forcing the tube loose. Alex notices and releases a heavy breath.

“I don’t like being hooked up like a lab rat.”

“You’re not a rat, Blakely. You’re very important, and this is only temporary.” He crosses his arms. “Emotion mapping in the brain is delicate and time-consuming work. Once we have a few scans in place, we’ll start comparing the data to build your emotional map. I’ve already started coding a diagram of your brain that charts your emotional responses. The more honest you are during this process, the better.”

I try to piece together fragments of our first conversation with the contraptions in this room and what he’s saying now. A brain scanner he designed himself. His sister was murdered by a psychopath. I’m here because he identified me as a psychopath. He’s a scientist who studies and cures diseases.

You’re sick, Blakely, and I’m going to cure you.

“I’m thirsty,” I say.

Alex looks away from the screen. “Of course.” He grabs the water bottle on the cart and removes the cap. With the sure hands of a doctor, he places the rim to my mouth and tilts the bottle.

I guzzle as much as he’ll allow before he takes it away with a claim I’ll make myself sick. That was the plan, asshole. I lick my lips, and notice how he purposely averts his gaze away from th

at action.

He may be a devoted scientist, but he’s still a man, and men can be controlled.

“So, I’m here for you to scan the brain of a psychopath.” I reason out loud. “You want to understand…something about how the psychopathic brain works.” I glance around the room and find a door on the other side of the parted curtain. “You could’ve just asked me, Alex. For a fee, I probably would’ve let you scan my brain until your warped little scientist heart was content.”

He sets the water bottle down and removes his glasses. All pretense is dropped as a severe expression hardens his features. “Just…be patient, Blakely.” He turns toward his laptop and resumes typing.