Heart Taker

By Sasha Devlin

When the evidence doesn’t add up, follow your heart

“My name is Aya Bedel. I have killed before. I will kill again.”

Detective Will Speedman knows guilt when he sees it. And the delicate, dark-eyed pixie sitting before him in the interrogation room doesn’t look strong enough to have overpowered and murdered a string of women. Yet Aya knows grisly details about the killings that haven’t been made public. And something about her sinful shape reaches deep into his primal core and yanks. Hard.

Aya has been having increasingly gruesome visions over the past few weeks. Not only does she witness the murders, she feels the victims’ flesh beneath her fingers, feels their last breath caressing her face. She must confess or go mad. As time runs short, Will’s superiors demand answers. Aya’s only hope for salvation rests in the desire glowing in Will’s eyes and his seductive touch that draws clues from her subconscious.

Warning: Contains a woman driven nearly mad and a detective driven to seduction to find the truth. Darkly sexual imagery could keep you awake at night trying to figure out why you’re trembling. It may not be purely from fear

Note: This book has been previously published

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sasha Devlin
• Release date: Mar 14, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386240358

Book preview

Blurb

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When the evidence doesn’t add up, follow your heart

My name is Aya Bedel. I have killed before. I will kill again.

Detective Will Speedman knows guilt when he sees it. And the delicate, dark-eyed pixie sitting before him in the interrogation room doesn’t look strong enough to have overpowered and murdered a string of women. Yet Aya knows grisly details about the killings that haven’t been made public. And something about her sinful shape reaches deep into his primal core and yanks. Hard.

Aya has been having increasingly gruesome visions over the past few weeks. Not only does she witness the murders, she feels the victims’ flesh beneath her fingers, feels their last breath caressing her face. She must confess or go mad. As time runs short, Will’s superiors demand answers. Aya’s only hope for salvation rests in the desire glowing in Will’s eyes and his seductive touch that draws clues from her subconscious.

Warning: Contains a woman driven nearly mad and a detective driven to seduction to find the truth. Darkly sexual imagery could keep you awake at night trying to figure out why you’re trembling. It may not be purely from fear

Note: This work has been previously published under the same name

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Chapter One

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From my spot in the bushes, I watch, completely unnoticed though my breath huffs in the air much the same as my love’s did. I’ve been here for almost an hour, barely shifting position. Between the burn in my thighs and the cold that tightens my lungs, I should be uncomfortable, but it feeds into my excitement.

The woman is lithe, beautiful and mine in a way she will soon come to understand. Her long, spandex-clad legs pump gracefully as she circles the track again, her ponytail streaming behind her like a black flag.

Around and around the track she zips, but her gaze never strays to where I hover just outside of the glare of the bright lights. I have timed her laps and her pace guarantees she will be back to this spot in under a minute. Three steps and then again out of my reach. I track her movement as carefully as a lion stalking a gazelle. My resentment grows with every revolution that she misses my presence until I have to fight the urge to stand and scream her name.

She has forgotten me all too easily, but I will make her remember. The rhythm of her feet steady my breathing and I spread my fingers. Waiting. Ready. My muscles coil in anticipation and I tackle her to the track as she passes my spot for the final time. With her ponytail clutched in my hand, I smash her forehead against the track. It gives such a pleasant thwack that I smile and do it a second time.

I roll her to her back and sigh. They always make me ruin their perfection before we could have any fun. I sit on her chest and push her bangs to the side.

Look what you’ve made me do to your beautiful face.

Don’t hurt me. Her voice is thick with tears that run unchecked down her cheeks. There is no recognition in her gaze, but my heart feels lighter than it has in days.

I would never hurt you. I love you. Now come with me.

I roll to my feet and yank her up. Now the fight comes back to her. She swings at my face, wind milling her arms in a truly pitiful show of fight or flight that does nothing but speed up my heart.

With a grin so wide it hurts my face, I advance on her and take her to the ground behind the bushes. Again, I sit on her chest and wrap my hands around her throat. Her pulse thumps out a frantic beat against my palm, and I wish I could dance to it.

I hold her for several moments, nearly drowning in her dark gaze, until I feel her take one shuddery, hopeful breath. Then I squeeze. Such a small thing that squeeze. Makes her pulse that much more real, makes her breath wheeze and then stop. Makes her feet kick, her hands claw.

But the best are her eyes. So beautiful until they bulge. And even then, there is something about her panic that makes me ache. I want to keep her right on that edge, let that feeling soak into me until I can feel her fear as my own.

Delicious. Decadent. The only thing that could make it better is if we were skin to skin. The gloves aren’t wanted but necessary.

All too soon, her struggles slow, then cease. Release threatens as her body goes limp beneath me and I pant to stave off my orgasm. Not now, not yet. With a barely contained groan, I push to my knees and check the area.

Time slows when I’m with my love, but it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes since I had first made contact. Satisfied we were still alone, I grasp her under her armpits and drag her into the surrounding forest, a bright crimson smear the only sign they’ll find that we were ever here.

The night is young and I am ready to have more fun.

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Aya gripped the edges of the dryer and whimpered. She knew she was in her home, could feel the wet jeans heavy and cold against her bare feet, but that didn’t stop the images that flickered across her mind. The woman running, falling, pleading for her life as Aya hit her, strangled her. And that would be the least of the woman’s worries.

Thank God, this vision had stopped before the final act. Aya knew that the runner wouldn’t be spared, but at least she didn’t have to witness the bloodbath. Or feel that damnable rush of power that was almost sexual, leaving her nipples beaded and her panties soaked.

A harsh breath rattled out of her as her muscles finally unlocked, and she barely caught herself before she busted her nose. The metal cooled her cheeks and tears splashed on the dryer. She was so tired, and now it seemed like staying awake had been for nothing.

In the week that she’d been off from work, the visions had intensified until she no longer trusted herself to sleep. But even that had backfired. She’d been awake for thirty-six hours straight and had nothing to show for it but burning eyes and a heavy heart.

And now a new victim.

Aya didn’t know the runner. Nor any of others. Didn’t know what had pushed her into these rages that made her stalk and then kill them, but no one deserved to die that way. If she could help it, no one else would. She forced strength into her legs and ignored the resulting twinge in her sex.

Aya wanted a shower hot enough to scald the memories from her mind and reach the cold that had steeped into her bones, but she didn’t dare. She was in control of her mind now, but who knew how long that would last. With trembling hands, she grabbed up a pair of rumpled jeans from the dirty clothes pile and pulled them on her body.

It seemed to take her an eternity to pull on a flannel shirt, and she didn’t bother to button it after her first failed attempt. She wanted more clothes but knew she’d only have to strip out of them once she got to the police station.

Aya stood on the edge of the laundry room and tried to calm her breathing. How pathetic was it that she had made herself a prisoner in her own home and it still wasn’t enough. Her body had stopped being her own weeks ago, and now her mind was going as well. It was only a matter of time before lucidity was a thing of the past, and then what would happen? She couldn’t even stop herself now.

Chapter Two

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Will had cataloged the woman’s physical attributes in a single glance—large, dark eyes that looked bruised in a face that might be pretty if it weren’t pinched. Her short inky hair might have been stylish, if it were combed. As he watched, her fingers went back to her lush mouth and she began chewing on her fingernails again. Just as quickly, she jerked her fingers from her mouth and shook her head. She’d repeated the process every few minutes since he’d started watching.

Funny, she doesn’t look batshit crazy.

Will ignored the nervous laughter of those around him. Word there might be an end to the brutal murders plaguing their town had spread, and nearly every officer on shift had crowded into the observation room.

The woman had arrived a mere thirty minutes earlier, claiming to be a serial killer. Right now, she didn’t look strong or stable enough to lift a sandwich, let alone partake in some of the heinous carnalities he’d witnessed over the weeks. But they needed a break in this case, and he was too desperate to be picky.

He made eye contact with his boss. I’m going in.

Careful, Speedman, just in case she’s the real deal.

Will grinned with a confidence he didn’t feel. I’m sure I can handle anything she can dish out.

He took a deep breath and entered the interrogation room. Her gaze drifted up to meet his and his steps faltered. For a moment, so quickly he would have thought he imagined it if not for the sudden sweat that beaded on his lip, he felt something he couldn’t explain. It was fear and desire intertwined and made no sense when all she’d done was look his way.

Will slid into the seat across from her, feeling the eyes watching them from behind the two-way mirror.

I’m Detective Will Speedman. You have information pertaining to an open case. It wasn’t typical, but he wasn’t taking any chances with this case. He read her the Miranda rights and waited for her acknowledgment of her them, never breaking eye contact. He wasn’t sure he could. The thought should have worried him, but instead, he was getting aroused. He shifted in his seat. We’ll record this conversation, if you don’t mind.

He waited for some reaction from her, but she continued to stare, unblinking, at him. Will pushed the record