Psycho by Onley James
“You broke into his house and watched him sleep?”
August rolled his eyes at Adam’s amused statement. “When you put it like that, it makes me sound like a stalker.”
August had stopped by Adam’s loft on his way to the college to try to figure out how to make Lucas love him…or, at least, like him more than other people. They sat at the kitchen table with Adam’s boyfriend, Noah, and their other brother, Archer.
Noah always looked like he’d just come from a church social with his big brown eyes and freckled cheeks, in direct opposition with his brother’s inky black hair and pale blue eyes. Yet, they seemed a perfect match.
“You are a stalker, dude. You can’t just break into a guy’s apartment and sneak up on him while he’s sleeping,” Noah chastised.
August frowned. “Why? Didn’t Adam do the same thing to you?”
Noah stopped short, looking at Adam. “You totally did. Your whole family is creepy.”
“My whole family murders people. You knew that going in. Seems like it says more about you than it does me,” Adam said, grinning at Noah before pulling him in to kiss the top of his head.
“That. The whole kissing and cuddling thing. I want that,” August said.
Archer made a disgusted noise. “Christ. I’m not drunk enough for this.”
August hadn’t expected to find Archer at Adam’s place. It was surprising to find Archer anywhere before noon. A professional poker player and amateur reprobate, Archer had somehow turned his vices into a lucrative career.
As usual, he looked like he’d rolled off a pirate ship, dark hair askew, a few days worth of scruff on his chiseled face. All he was missing was a bottle of rum, which Archer had no doubt already downed before leaving his apartment.
Noah waved Archer off. “Don’t mind him. If you want to get this guy, you—and I can’t stress this enough—cannot listen to any advice offered up by these two idiots. Or anybody else with the last name Mulvaney, honestly.”
“Hey,” Adam said, feigning hurt.
“No, he’s got a valid point. I can show you how to get anybody into bed, but I don’t have a clue what to do with them once the sex is over,” Archer said, kicking his booted foot up on the kitchen chair beside him. “You probably shouldn’t get your relationship advice from a bunch of psychopaths.”
August shifted his gaze to the only non-psychopath in the room. “How do I make him like me?”
Noah leaned in, tongue sweeping across his lower lip before he asked, “Well, how did you leave things with him this morning?”
August’s mind drifted back to that moment. He’d woken to find Lucas had breached his own pillow barrier and infiltrated August’s side of the bed. He’d stared down in amusement at Lucas’s face smashed against August’s bicep, both hands wrapped around his forearm like he was his own personal pillow. He liked being Lucas’s pillow. “I just snuck out before he woke up.”
“You fucked him and then ghosted?” Noah asked, sounding horrified.
August’s brows knitted together. “What? No. We didn’t have sex. I just asked him if I could sleep with him.”
Noah rubbed both hands over his face. “You’re all androids. It’s like you’ve never watched a single romantic comedy in your lives.” He pointed at August. “You can read an entire book in, like, thirty minutes and you’ve never cracked open a single one on relationships?”
August shrugged. “Why would I? I’ve never wanted a relationship. Until now. I went there last night to tell him that.”
“And how did he react?” Noah prompted.
August grinned. “He pulled a knife on me.”
Archer snickered. “Smart man. I like him already.”
“Is that why there’s blood all over your shirt?” Noah asked. “He stabbed you?”
August frowned. “Not exactly. I did it.”
Noah’s mouth fell open. “You stabbed yourself? You need to start at the beginning.”
August did his best to recall all the details of the night before. When he was done, he found himself staring at three dumbfounded faces. “Well, help me.”
“Dude, you broke into a stranger’s house, told him you were Batman, kissed him, impaled yourself on a blade, and then asked to spend the night. I don’t know that God could help you,” Noah said.
“I don’t ever want to hear that I’m bad at romance,” Adam told Noah, expression smug.
Noah grinned and patted his cheek before turning back to August. “Okay, so, this isn’t that bad.” At the others’ incredulous looks, he said, “Okay, it’s a little bad.” When they continued to blink at him, he blurted, “Okay, it’s really bad, but we can fix it.”
“How? How do I fix this?” August asked, genuinely wanting to make things right. He wanted Lucas to be excited to see him, not terrified of him.
“Well, to start, you have to be more Bruce Wayne and less Batman,” Noah said.
August frowned. “I don’t know what that means.”
Noah blew out an exasperated breath. “It means less creepy vigilante and more suave billionaire.”
“August? Suave? Good luck,” Archer quipped.
Noah glared at Archer. “Unhelpful, dude,” To August, he said, “Okay, so maybe not suave but, like, sincere. Do nice things for him. Find out what he likes. Bring him coffee. Ask him on a real date.”
What nice thing could August do for Lucas? He didn’t even know him, knew nothing about him, except that he smelled like rain and spice and looked soft and vulnerable when he slept and that August had watched him drool on his arm that morning and found it…comforting. “I want to keep him.”
“Bruh. Those are thinking thoughts not speaking thoughts,” Noah coached. “You can’t just go around telling strangers you’ve imprinted on them like some werewolf in a Twilight movie. They won’t get it.”
August shrugged. “He already knows I’m a psychopath.”
Noah bobbed his head. “I mean, that’s good. Congrats on that first hurdle. But it’s a long way between knowing you’re a psychopath and wanting to spend his life with one. He’s a former FBI agent and you’re a murderer. As far as relationship issues go, I’d say this is like the Montagues versus the Capulets on steroids. It’s kind of a big hurdle and you could both end up dead.”
Something twisted inside August. “You don’t think he’d want somebody like me.”
“We didn’t say that,” Noah soothed.
“I’m saying it. No fucking way. Not a chance in hell,” Archer muttered. “Do you have any booze in this place?”
“Noah has his emotional support vodka in the freezer,” Adam said, pointing a thumb in the direction of the kitchen.
Noah’s lip curled, glaring at Archer. “It’s not even nine in the morning.”
“I haven’t been to bed yet, so it doesn’t count,” Archer said, taking the bottle and pouring himself a healthy dose into an orange juice glass.
“I think you have a chance,” Adam said, patting August’s hand stiffly.
“That!” Noah said. “That right there. You guys have got to work on looking more like people and less like…cyborgs pretending to be people. Adam needs to work on his fake empathy face and you have to learn to smile without looking like a fucking supervillain.”
August blinked at him. “I smile like a supervillain?”
“You smile at the wrong things, at the wrong time. You’re never happier than when you’re about to kill somebody or when you’re thinking of killing somebody. You have to work on that. Smile less.” August wiped all expression from his face. “Yeah, okay, that’s not going to work either.”
August flopped back in his chair. “This would be a lot easier if I could just club him over the head and drag him back to my cave.”
“You know what,” Noah said, “fuck everything I just said. If Lucas is going to like you, he’s going to have to take you as you are. Just show him who you are without a knife in your hand. Show him the things you like outside of murder.”
What did August like better than murder? Music. Silent movies. That wasn’t really enough to build a relationship on.
Archer gave August a wolfish grin. “In other words, you’re doomed.”
Noah threw a fork at him. “Shut up. You’ve never had a relationship with anything that didn’t have an alcohol percentage on the label.”
“Touché,” Archer said, raising his glass in a mock salute.
How did he show Lucas what he liked outside of murder? What did he like? Would Lucas still want him when he realized August was put together all wrong? In every way. “What about sex?”
Archer spit his drink onto the table with a laugh, shaking his now wet hand.
Noah glared at the man before giving August a patient look. “What about it?”
“How do I get him to like the things I like…sexually?”
“I’m shocked you’ve even had sex,” Adam said, sounding genuinely surprised and a little relieved.
August frowned. “Why’s that?”
“You’re creepy, bro. What person is going to have sex with you without wondering if you’re going to turn them into a lamp shade when it’s over?” Noah slapped Adam’s arm hard enough to make him flinch. “What? He asked.”
August shrugged. “I usually use sex workers. It makes things less complicated. They don’t ask questions and they’re discreet.”
Noah began to squirm but looked determined. “Okay, so you’re not a virgin. Win. Why wouldn’t Lucas like what you like sexually? Are you into some weird fetishes? Necrophilia or, like, licking feet?”
“A foot fetish comes after necrophilia for you?” Adam asked, chuckling.
Noah glared at Adam. “Shut up.” He looked back to August. “Seriously, what is it you worry he won’t be into?”
“I like…” He struggled to put a name to it that didn’t make him sound even creepier than they already found him. “A power exchange.”
“BDSM?” Noah asked, shoulders sinking in relief. “Oh, thank God, it’s something normal. Like, I can’t guarantee he wants to be spanked or tied up or whatever, but you could always just have the conversation whenever you get there.”
August clearly wasn’t explaining himself correctly. A problem he’d never had before. “What if I want him to do those things to me?”
Noah’s eyes widened as understanding dawned. “Oh.”
“I did not see that one coming,” Adam said.
“I totally did,” Archer muttered, pouring himself another serving of vodka.
“You still need to talk about it—with him. But maybe you should worry about getting him to like you before you worry too much about getting him to spank you.”
Archer scoffed. “I’m not drunk enough for this conversation.”
“Me either,” Adam said, reaching for the vodka bottle.
Noah smacked his hand away. “You haven’t even had breakfast this morning.”
That. Whatever that was. That was what August wanted. With Lucas. A total stranger. It made no sense, and he couldn’t describe it to another living soul with any elegance, but he wanted a person of his own. He wanted Lucas to be his person. But Noah was right. August was weird and off-putting and he said and did everything wrong. How did he make Lucas see that August couldn’t love him but he could protect him? Keep him safe.
He left Adam’s house with a promise to keep Noah apprised of the situation as it unfolded. The moment he slid into the driver’s seat, he pulled up Google and typed in books on relationships, choosing the first one called The Five Love Languages. August was great at languages. He spoke seven. How hard could it be to learn five more?
He sat in his car scrolling page after page, learning about acts of service, quality time, words of affirmation, receiving gifts, and physical touch. He wanted to touch Lucas and wanted Lucas to touch him, too. But he needed to start small.
Coffee. August could do coffee. He loved coffee. Did Lucas love coffee? He drove back to Lucas’s apartment, breaking into his house once more. Lucas was gone, a half eaten piece of toast sitting on the counter and a full thermos left beside it as if he’d left in a hurry, too distracted to remember to grab it.
August continued to prowl around, opening the kitchen cabinets, pausing when he saw the numerous medicine bottles on the bottom shelf. There were mood stabilizers and antidepressants, anti-anxiety meds, and painkillers. Something bad had happened to Lucas, and August was determined to find out what it was.
In a spare bedroom, he hit pay dirt; a thick file folder sat on a desk. Inside sat a stack of missing person posters, several neatly written notes, and a photo of a man in an FBI jacket with a lanyard around his neck that stated he was Special Agent Laurence Kohn. Across that photo somebody had written one word in blood red marker.
GUILTY
Guilty of what? What had happened to Lucas that made him wake up every night screaming? What could have caused a man who had lived with a burden like being clairvoyant to suddenly snap after years with the FBI? Who the fuck was Special Agent Laurence Kohn, and what was he guilty of?
August pulled his phone out and began to snap pictures of the missing person photos. They were all women, all indigenous. The youngest appeared to be barely thirteen, the oldest forty-five. Had Lucas stumbled upon a serial predator? Was that predator a fellow agent? That would be enough to drive anybody over the edge. Had Lucas realized it with just a touch like he had August? No wonder Lucas had been terrified of him.
He put the folder back where he found it and made to leave. He was going to bring Lucas’s thermos but thought better of it, returning the apartment to exactly as Lucas left it before locking up and heading back downstairs. At the base of the stairs, there were businesses on either side. To the left was the near empty coffee shop he’d seen when he’d arrived. Coffee.
Inside was a girl with pink hair and a nose ring, scrolling through her phone. She perked up when she saw she had a customer. When August got to the counter, he smiled, doing his best to make sure he wasn’t smiling like a supervillain. It must have worked because she didn’t look spooked like strangers usually did.
“What can I get you?” she asked.
That was a good question. He had no idea how Lucas took his coffee or even if it had been coffee in the thermos. With the meds he was on, caffeine wasn’t good for him.
Still, there was always decaf. “Weird question, but do you know the man who lives upstairs? Six foot, blond hair, pretty eyes?”
The girl grinned. “Lucas?”
August nodded, relieved. “Yes. I don’t suppose you know his coffee order?”
The girl examined him closely. “Yeah. He gets the same thing every day.”
Damn. Maybe he’d already had his coffee. “Did he come in this morning?”
The girl’s brow wrinkled. “Actually, no. Kind of weird.”
“Would you get him whatever his usual is?” he asked. “But make it decaf.” When she frowned, he added, “I’m worried about his stress levels.”
She gave him a simpering look, like she thought he was sweet. That boded well, he supposed. “He your boyfriend or something?”
August sighed. “Not yet. I’m trying to find out his love language.”
The girl nodded. “Right on. Acts of service. Good start.”
“Thanks.”
She gave him a conspiratorial look. “You should write something cute and flirty on the cup.”
August’s brain short-circuited. “Like what? I’m really bad at dating.”
A devious grin crossed her face. “Do you trust me?”
“Of course not. I don’t even know you. But you’re bound to write something better than I would. I’d probably tell him I like the way his atoms are put together or something.”
The girl pouted. “Aw, that’s so nerdy and cute. But let’s try something a little flirtier.”
With coffee and a chocolate chip muffin in hand, August gave a wave. “Thank you.”
“I’m Cricket, by the way,” she called as he pushed the door open.
“August.”
She smiled again. “Nice to meet you, August.”
“You too.”
* * *
Lucas wasn’t in his office, so August made his way across campus to the Social Sciences wing. Lucas was sitting at his desk in front of a large projection screen, and students were just starting to filter in and find their seats in the stadium-like seating.
Lucas looked sexy as hell in an olive green sweater the same color as his eyes, his blond hair just messy enough to look deliberate. The students noticed his good looks, too. Girls giggled and pointed, whispering to each other. It made him want to cut off their ponytails.
Lucas looked up in surprise when August reached his desk. “Hi.”
“Hi. I brought you breakfast,” August said, setting his goodies on the desk.
Lucas gave him a somewhat bemused smile. “I said no breakfast.”
August shook his head. “No, you said I couldn’t take you to breakfast. You never said I couldn’t bring breakfast to you.”
Lucas paused, but then nodded. “Oh. I suppose you’re right.”
“I got your order from Cricket downstairs. But it’s decaf.”
Lucas frowned. “Decaf? Why?”
“I saw you take Effexor. Both caffeine and Effexor can increase your blood pressure, and you’re already under a great deal of stress.”
August hoped Lucas would see this as what it was: his attempt to take care of him.
“How do you know what meds I take?” Lucas asked, taking a tentative sip of his coffee.
“Oh. I broke into your apartment this morning and looked around.”
Lucas gave a heavy sigh, opening the pastry bag and pulling out the muffin. “Of course, you did. I should just give you a key.”
“That would make it much less time consuming,” August agreed. “Can I take you to lunch later?”
Lucas laughed, shaking his head. “No.”
“Can I bring lunch to you later?” August tried again.
Lucas rolled his eyes but smiled like he couldn’t help himself. “Maybe.”
August grinned. “I’ll see you at one.”
“I didn’t say yes,” Lucas called after him.
“But you also didn’t say no,” August pointed out, turning and leaving before Lucas rectified that.
He had three classes before their ‘maybe’ date. He didn’t know if he could wait that long to see Lucas again, but he’d try. In the meantime, he needed to have Calliope deep dive into Laurence Kohn. Had he hurt Lucas? August would happily rip this Kohn guy’s tongue out if it made Lucas happy.
Was murder an act of service?
