Page 21 of Edging Sanity

“Rowan,” Delilah breathed quietly, a whine that made her core ache with need. “You’ll have to go deeper. Dig it out of me. I know you want to.”

Rowan ignored her. As much as she could ignore the woman who’d been trying to get them into this exact position for the last week, as much as she could ignore the fact that she was at least one knuckle deep in a serial killer. And even worse, Rowan was more aroused by the entire setup than she was upset.

Fixing her gaze on a spot on the ceiling, Rowan shoved two fingers roughly into Delilah. She swallowed when Delilah’s surprised gasp curled around her, turning into a moan as Rowan wriggled against her inner walls. She was far enough inside that her palm was flat against Delilah, rubbing her clit ever so subtly as she felt for the base of the knife.

It wasn’t a long knife, nor was it particularly thick. She guessed it was about the length of her middle finger, and the width of her pinky and ring finger combined. Which meant that Delilah was completely full, and based on the heavy breathing and quiet whimpers, she was fucking loving it.

Rowan adjusted and the tip of her finger barely hooked the end of the closed knife as she slowly worked it out while Delilah tensed around her, the breathy gasps making Rowan’s boxers uncomfortably damp.

The next adjustment made Delilah bite her shoulder, barely suppressing a groan. Rowan knew she should push Delilah off, put a stop to the contact that was sending waves of agonizing desire pulsing through her, but the warmth encasing her fingers and the pressure of Delilah’s teeth sinking into her flesh was overwhelming. She was powerless against the desire, the need.

Rowan was practically shaking with the effort of withdrawing the knife instead of plunging back in and fucking Delilah in ways she’d only ever kept in her mind.

“Don’t stop,” Delilah moaned, unlatching her mouth and tipping her head back against the tiled wall, revealing her slender, pale, unblemished neck. She watched Rowan like a predator watches their prey, a victorious smile on her lips and her pupils blown wide. When Rowan didn’t move, Delilah threatened, “Don’t stop or I’ll scream.”

Rowan slapped her hand back over Delilah’s mouth, pressing hard against her until she felt teeth. Feeding into exactly what Delilah wanted, she dug her fingers deeper, readjusting her hold on the knife. She curled and stretched, working the knife out slowly. Her entire body was on fire, her core aching, her mind screaming to let Delilah touch her. It took monumental effort to finally slide her fingers out, the knife laying heavy in her palm.

“Don’t scream,” Rowan ordered coldly, slowly moving her hand away. She stayed tense and ready for the promised scream, but the only sound filling the room was Delilah’s labored breathing. When Delilah did nothing but watch her through heavy lidded eyes, Rowan finally took a small step back.

The motion drew attention to the fact that Delilah’s arms were still somehow wrapped around her, draped lazily over her shoulders. Unable to bring herself to be free of Delilah entirely, she looked down at the object in her hand instead, finally breaking their overwhelming eye contact.

“Why the hell is the knife wrapped in a condom?” she growled, blurting the question as soon as she figured out what the disgusting film obscuring the knife was.

Delilah’s light huff of laughter wafted mint across Rowan’s face, reminding her, once again, how painfully close they were to one another. “Don’t worry,” Delilah purred, one hand finding the base of Rowan’s neck. “You’re the only one here who’s been inside me.” Rowan only glared at her, forcing back a shiver as Delilah’s blunt nails scratched the bare skin of her neck. Delilah pouted. “I thought you’d appreciate that I protected the evidence.”

Frowning, Rowan looked down at the condom-wrapped switchblade covered in Delilah’s arousal. She ducked away from Delilah, finally releasing herself from that captivating hold to wash the exterior for a better examination—without taking the knife out since, apparently, it was evidence.

And… that looked like blood on the handle, tucked underneath the condom. It was clearly not Delilah’s. It looked dried. Flakes had rubbed off as Rowan washed it.

“Uh, Rowan,” the static crackle of a voice over her radio made her jump. “We got a code blue in 203."

CHAPTER

FIFTEEN

The hallways leading to room 203 were as chaotic as Rowan had ever seen them. Patients poked their heads out, security officers yelled at whoever they could—trying and failing to maintain order—psych techs scrambled to secure everyone. By the time Rowan made it to the room, Mariana’s body had already been covered by her thin bedsheet. Dark red stained the fabric making it cling to her arms. The scent of iron was pungent in the usually sterile air.

“What happened?” Rowan barked at the floor officer in charge.

“Wrists were cut,” Lincoln Barnes answered, looking distraught. “We didn’t realize it was time to put her on watch again. What’s-his-face said she was good…” He trailed off, staring at the body, his face pale. Rowan tried to remember how long he’d been there, if he’d seen anything like this before.

“She was good,” Rowan snapped, grabbing the paperwork out of his hands to see that he hadn’t even filled it out yet. “Got anyone reviewing the footage?”

“Grimes.”

Rowan nodded. “Good.” Then she thrust the papers back into his hands. “Get this shit filled out.”

The best thing right now was to keep him busy. She knew he was blaming himself; the man was always too soft, but the patients liked him. Despite all their efforts to prevent this sort of thing, it did happen. Though, Rowan suspected that this wasn’t what it looked like. The weight of the bloodied knife sat heavy in her pocket.

It didn’t take long for the cops to show up with the paramedics in tow. Rowan instructed Barnes to talk to them since he’d been there from the start. Apparently she’d still been alive—just barely. The poor thing had been lying there for hours, slowly bleeding out with no one to help. All because Rowan had been too distracted with Delilah to run her usual camera check.

If she hadn’t deviated from her schedule, she would’ve caught that there was something off about Mariana’s camera. And she knew there had to be something wrong with it because none of her guards would fail to notice something like this. If Rowan hadn’t let herself get so caught up in Delilah’s game, an innocent woman wouldn’t have died.

The memory of the look on Delilah’s face while she watched Rowan and Mariana talk flashed through her mind. It was all Rowan’s fault.

She slowly backed out of the room, away from the chaos. Then she remembered the knife in her pocket and she swallowed, approaching the small Asian woman wearing a detective’s badge and barking orders.

“I might have evidence,” Rowan said, interrupting the woman who frowned before waving her off.