Born, Darkly is the newest Dark Romance by Trisha Wolfe. This Serial Killer romance is NOW AVAILABLE. Read an excerpt & download your copy TODAY!
He challenged her sanity.
She shattered his reality.
She shattered his reality.
SNEAK PEEK
I release an extended breath, feeling the weariness of our sessions. The patient is supposed to be the one breaking, not the doctor. His walls stand just as erect as the day he entered my therapy room.
I pick his folder off the floor and set it on my lap. “You want direct conversation?”
“Yes.”
“Because you have no inhibition in saying what you’re thinking, you demand the same of me.”
“Yes.”
I look at him. “How freeing to have the power, the candidness, to just blurt whatever is on your mind and not give a damn how it’s received. Tell me, Grayson. How does that feel?”
The corner of his mouth tips up. “Liberating.”
I lick my lips. My mouth too dry to speak. I’ve allowed him to get under my skin, and he’s enjoying my agitation.
“Is that considered crazy?” he asks. “Does it disturb the nice complacency of all those boring fucks we don’t actually give a shit about?”
“The freedom to do and say what one wants has always disturbed others,” I admit, immediately following up. “It may be nonsensical to you, but it’s why society chooses to shield their innermost thoughts. An empathetic person doesn’t want to hurt anyone or make those around him uncomfortable. In order to…blend, for lack of a better word, we must…” I trail off, unable to complete my thought.
“We, doctor?” Grayson sits forward. “Tell me what we must do.”
I toss my bangs from my eyes and adjust my glasses. “Master our passions.”
His stare is invasive, that disarming gaze hardening as if he’s dissecting me. “Is that how you’ve done it?”
A splash of fear ices my body. “What?”
“Blended. Have you mastered your passions or are you just delusional?”
I slap the folder closed. “This session has officially gotten off track, and so it’s over.” I rise from my seat.
“But we only have one left after this.”
The hurt in his voice sounds so genuine it stops me. I turn toward him. “I have your evaluation completed already. You don’t require another session.” I yank the paperwork from the folder and flinch. “Damn. Paper cut.”
Red beads at the tip of my finger.
In the second it takes me to assess the wound, Grayson moves. He captures my hand and hauls me forward. His vise grip serves two purposes: preventing me from fleeing, and forcing blood to my hand.
He takes my finger into his mouth. A roar fills my ears, my heart thundering at the feel of him sucking the blood away. I feel it in the back of my knees, an electric current racing through my body and knocking my legs weak.
“Stop.” The word is barely audible, but it’s enough.
Grayson pulls back and releases my hand. He draws the chain off the floor, sliding it over his palm, then rubs a pattern over the lock. “I’m afraid that when it comes to you, London, I’ll never master that kind of control.”
I pick his folder off the floor and set it on my lap. “You want direct conversation?”
“Yes.”
“Because you have no inhibition in saying what you’re thinking, you demand the same of me.”
“Yes.”
I look at him. “How freeing to have the power, the candidness, to just blurt whatever is on your mind and not give a damn how it’s received. Tell me, Grayson. How does that feel?”
The corner of his mouth tips up. “Liberating.”
I lick my lips. My mouth too dry to speak. I’ve allowed him to get under my skin, and he’s enjoying my agitation.
“Is that considered crazy?” he asks. “Does it disturb the nice complacency of all those boring fucks we don’t actually give a shit about?”
“The freedom to do and say what one wants has always disturbed others,” I admit, immediately following up. “It may be nonsensical to you, but it’s why society chooses to shield their innermost thoughts. An empathetic person doesn’t want to hurt anyone or make those around him uncomfortable. In order to…blend, for lack of a better word, we must…” I trail off, unable to complete my thought.
“We, doctor?” Grayson sits forward. “Tell me what we must do.”
I toss my bangs from my eyes and adjust my glasses. “Master our passions.”
His stare is invasive, that disarming gaze hardening as if he’s dissecting me. “Is that how you’ve done it?”
A splash of fear ices my body. “What?”
“Blended. Have you mastered your passions or are you just delusional?”
I slap the folder closed. “This session has officially gotten off track, and so it’s over.” I rise from my seat.
“But we only have one left after this.”
The hurt in his voice sounds so genuine it stops me. I turn toward him. “I have your evaluation completed already. You don’t require another session.” I yank the paperwork from the folder and flinch. “Damn. Paper cut.”
Red beads at the tip of my finger.
In the second it takes me to assess the wound, Grayson moves. He captures my hand and hauls me forward. His vise grip serves two purposes: preventing me from fleeing, and forcing blood to my hand.
He takes my finger into his mouth. A roar fills my ears, my heart thundering at the feel of him sucking the blood away. I feel it in the back of my knees, an electric current racing through my body and knocking my legs weak.
“Stop.” The word is barely audible, but it’s enough.
Grayson pulls back and releases my hand. He draws the chain off the floor, sliding it over his palm, then rubs a pattern over the lock. “I’m afraid that when it comes to you, London, I’ll never master that kind of control.”
☆☆☆☆☆☆
MORE ABOUT BORN, DARKLY
He challenged her sanity.
She shattered his reality.
They dared each other...to the brink of madness.
A dark and twisted maze awaits criminal psychologist London Noble when she falls for her patient, convicted serial killer, Grayson Pierce Sullivan. As she unravels the traps, her sanity tested with each game, she's forced to acknowledge the true evil in the world around her.
*Trigger warning: confined spaces. Serial killers
He challenged her sanity.
She shattered his reality.
They dared each other...to the brink of madness.
A dark and twisted maze awaits criminal psychologist London Noble when she falls for her patient, convicted serial killer, Grayson Pierce Sullivan. As she unravels the traps, her sanity tested with each game, she's forced to acknowledge the true evil in the world around her.
*Trigger warning: confined spaces. Serial killers
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From an early age, Trisha Wolfe dreamed up fantasy worlds and characters and was accused of talking to herself. Today, she lives in South Carolina with her family and writes full time, using her fantasy worlds as an excuse to continue talking to herself.
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