Vicious Little Darling (Love So Cruel #3)

5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

JAXTON

“ J axton Marks,” the receptionist calls out. “Dr. Pitman will see you now.”

Fucking great. I get to my feet and try to brush off the nerves penetrating my chest. I’ve been seeing this dipshit for three years now, and it never gets better. He just fucking pries into the dark corners of my brain. Well, he tries to, anyway.

I sling my backpack over my shoulder and head down the hall to the third door on the right, which is already open and waiting for me. I step across the threshold, avoiding eye contact with Dr. Pitman, and plop down onto the brown microfiber couch. The walls are painted a putrid blue color—it’s hideous.

“Good morning, Jaxton,” Dr. Pitman greets me from behind his black rimmed glasses framed by white hair. “How’s your morning been?”

“Fine,” I say, leaning back against the back of the couch. “Though, I’d rather not be here.”

“Yet, here you are,” he chuckles. “As usual.”

“Yeah,” I mutter, questioning myself about why I do keep showing up. It’s as if I innately want to be better. Except I don’t. I don’t give a fuck about anything.

“So, what were you up to this morning?”

I trailed Ember from home to work, and then found a coffee shop to bide my time until this hell hole. “Not much. I slept in.”

“That’s abnormal for you,” Dr. Pitman crosses his thin legs, clad in gray pants. “You’re an early bird.”

“You mean, I just don’t fucking sleep at all,” I level with him. “And no, I don’t want any of that medication you can prescribe me for that.”

He keeps that same fucking pleasant look on his face. “Well, I know your stance on medication, and I wasn’t going to offer it, Jaxton.”

“Good,” I huff, shifting in my seat like a kid. I don’t know what it is about the guy, but every time I’m in his office, I feel as if I’m seven years old again and in the principal’s office.

“So, why don’t we talk about your week? Have you considered getting a job? Do you remember our chat about that?”

“Sure.”

“Sure, you’ve considered getting a job? Or?” Dr. Pitman’s patience with me is admirable, really. I mean, I’d hate me by now, but I guess that’s why he’s a therapist and I’m a low life serial killer.

“I considered getting a job.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know. Maybe a bar or… a bookstore?” I throw the odd one out, thinking of Ember as she slipped inside that Hidden Books place. She works there. I could work there. I could see her all day long. What a fright she would get when she realized her coworker, Jaxton, was the same skeleton masked man skulking around in the shadows.

Fuck. That makes my cock hard.

“A bookstore?” Dr. Pitman’s voice draws me out from my fantasy of fucking her in the dark while she sleeps. “Why a bookstore?”

“Uh,” I pause. “I don’t know. I should read more.”

“That’s an interesting reason, Jaxton.”

“Life is interesting,” I say with a shrug. “Or painfully boring. I don’t know which.”

My therapist sighs. “I really think you’d benefit from finding something productive to do with your time. Consistent idleness can be bad for the mind.”

“Mm,” I mutter, my eyes drifting to the window, taking in the city skyline. I just want to fucking disappear into it sometimes—and that thought leaves me depressed.

“Have you spoken with your mom, again?”

My lip twitches. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

“She called,” I say flatly, continuing to zone out on the skyscrapers.

“Jaxton,” his voice drops in volume. “You have to set boundaries with her. We’ve discussed this over and over. Just because she’s your mother, doesn’t mean that you need to continue to have contact with her.”

“Again,” I drawl. “ She called.”

“Let it go to voicemail.”

I whip my head around. “And then do you know what she’ll do? She’ll fucking show up on my doorstep, all wacked out of her mind, or report me missing like she did a few years ago.”

“Narcissists have a hard time letting go of their victims.”

“Shut the fuck up,” I growl back at him. “I’m not a victim.” But as the words slip from my lips, the memories unlock, flooding my mind. Suddenly, I’m ten years old again, with a bloody nose and tears streaming down my face.

‘You deserved it for being so Goddamn stubborn,’ she squeals in my ears.

I squeeze my eyes shut, as my heart rate picks up.

“What are you seeing right now?”

My eyes flutter open. “Not a damned thing. Just a therapist who needs to mind his own business. I don’t know why I keep coming to this.” I shake my head as I get to my feet, before grabbing up my backpack and slinging it over my shoulder again. “It’s always a waste of time. I can’t spend the rest of my life digging up the past. Sometimes you just have to suck it up and move on.”

“Well, I would agree with that in some circumstances…” Dr. Pitman’s voice trails off as I stalk toward the exit. “I’ll see you next week, Jaxton.”

“Fuck off,” I grunt, thundering down the hallway to the stairs. I don’t know why I bother with these appointments. Yet, deep down, there’s a part of me that knows he’s the only person that knows a damn thing about my past. He’s the guy who has had a glimpse into what made me turn into… this.

My head swirls with static as I bust through the front doors onto the street. I need a distraction from the noise in my head. I head toward the other side of the city, where I know Ember is working in that bookstore. But then again, maybe I shouldn’t go barging in there, asking for a job.

No, it’s too soon for that.

Maybe I should just fuck and kill her.

I toy with the idea, and then decide I’d rather move her shit around and scare her for a while. She’s clearly paranoid. I saw the speed she walked to work this morning. She was like an eighties speed walker. Impressive. I haven’t gotten to someone like that in quite a while.

I take a deep breath and decide to go home first. I need to see what I can find on her social media. Then, I’ll go see if I can get into her apartment, under the nose of that fucking neighbor of hers. I make the trek to my high rise and ride up to the penthouse. Dr. Pitman is right about all that idle time, but he’s wrong about how I can fill it.

“Jaxton,” the doorman greets me as I pass through the front lobby doors. “How are you?”

“Fine,” I tell him, shooting him a grin. “How’s your life, Jett?”

“Fine,” he laughs. “Hit me up for a smoke later, yeah?”

“Got it,” I give him a thumbs up and trot to the elevator. I press the penthouse level and slip inside, tapping my foot against the floor. I really want to be set up at that coffee shop, watching Ember—and making sure no one gets to her before me.

I’d hate to think about what I’d have to do.

Excitement pulses through my chest as I step off the elevator and head for the apartment door. I punch in the code and step inside, breathing in the scent of vanilla and lavender. It’s supposed to be calming, but it sure as hell doesn’t feel that way. I drop my backpack on the kitchen counter and head for the desk, where my laptop sits. I sit down and flip it open.

I need to figure out Ember’s details. Does she have parents close by? Who is that buff friend of hers? And what about the guy who works with her? He was out with her last night, too. She’s surrounded by men.

I don’t like that. It could create a challenge.

“Not that I’m opposed to that,” I say to myself. I pause as I pull up my fake online profile. I don’t have her last name, so it’s going to take some leg work to get it done. First, I hunt down the page for the business, Hidden Books, and then scroll through the posts, searching for anything with her in it.

There’s nothing.

Fuck. I go back to the most recent post, and then click to see who liked it. Sure enough, there’s Ember Thatcher. What a fucking name. I curl my lip in disgust. Her last name would sound much better as Marks. Ember Marks.

Yeah, I like that.

I run my tongue over my bottom lip at the thought. I’ve never put my last name with a victim’s. I’m a psycho, but I’m not delusional when it comes to the women I hunt and kill.

I double click on her profile picture, pulling up a photo of her. It’s just a headshot, showing off her pretty hazel eyes and olive skin.

My cock goes rigid as I click through the photos, and finally I land on a full-body shot. She’s got her hip cocked out to the side, standing there with that brawny friend of hers. Before I give in and start jacking off, I spot him tagged in the image. Instant cockblock.

I click his profile. “ Josh ,” I grunt. “What a cliché name.” I scroll through his page, seeing mostly photos of Josh and Ember. Every one of his profile pictures includes her, and honestly, if I didn’t have a good idea that they’re just friends, based on her page, I’d think they were a couple based on his.

He likes her more than a friend would. Jealousy rears in my chest. I’ve never stalked a girl like Ember. I’ve stalked girls who have boyfriends, plenty who fuck around constantly, but I’ve never targeted someone who seems so closed off. Besides, this Josh guy is conventionally attractive. I’m sure he has no problem getting pussy…

Just not hers.

I bite back a laugh. I don’t know this guy, but I do know that I’m going to get the one thing he can’t seem to nab. I like the feeling of winning, but I also have a good feeling this guy might get in my way. He seems too protective. Too caring.

I rub my hands together, before spending the next hour going through everything on Ember’s profile. It’s not much. She keeps most of her shit private, and I’m not ready to add her as a friend yet. She’s too unnerved right now to accept a request from a stranger.

Which is the perfect time to strike her apartment. I scoot back from the desk.

Let the games begin, Ember.

I’m coming for that pretty little brain of yours.