Mind Games

Chapter Thirteen: Indisposed

Kanas woke up on Sunday morning feeling as though he hadn't slept at all. He'd gone to bed the night previous with thoughts of Lucca clouding his every thought, the image of her imprinted onto the backs of his eyelids, flashing through his mind every time he closed his eyes.

To say that her face and voice weren't some form of a torture device may have been considered as a gross understatement.

At some point during the last few weeks, Lucca DeMarco had managed to get under his skin, and now he found himself consumed by thoughts of her in their entirety.

It was disconcerting, for somebody like Kanas. For somebody who liked his control, to suddenly have no control, and no power and no upper hand. Who had no clear defence against her. Against her games, her charm.

He should have been impervious to all of it. He'd spent years practically conditioning himself against many forms of mind games, of tricks and illusions. That's why he'd been as good as he had in the prison, because he had his patients under his control, never the other way around. His prisoners answered the questions he asked with little preamble and with no double-meanings. He knew the inner workings of their heads, every thought and secret, every sentence and desire that rattled around in the deepest crevices of their minds.

There was little that they could keep from him.

Yet Lucca, a nineteen-year-old who had been born outside of her time, in the wrong generation, was proving more challenging than the serial killers and criminal masterminds he used to work with.

It annoyed him to no end. Had him entertaining thoughts that were some of the most impure, shameful he had ever had. Which impressed him, because it was so unlike him. So contradictory. To be both angered and impressed by someone.

By Lucca. 

Hell, she had him answering questions he never would have answered before. She had him admitting to things he never would have admitted to.

She had broken down his walls without him realising. Now she consumed him, possessed his thoughts. His actions. Like she had gotten inside of his head, knew what to say to have him do what she wanted.

Which may have been an over exaggeration, because he was still his own person. He still thought for himself, acted for himself. Just with an ever presence of Lucca's shadow at his side.

Which should have bothered him, but it didn't.

So, he was kept awake at night, because he was confused by what emotions he was going through. Because he was overcome with thoughts and images and words of Lucca. Tempting him. Teasing him. Pleasing him. And, ultimately, leaving him unsatisfied.

Until he finally gave up on sleep around five that morning. Prepared himself a hearty omelette and decided to go to his office to read over and add to the notes he'd already compiled on her. Something he probably shouldn't have continued doing if he planned on following Constance's logic, of getting to know Lucca on a personal level.

Of stepping beyond his professional bounds with her.

That had almost happened last night. That game she had entangled him in. That sense of knowing and longing and wanting that had come over him while he indulged in her game. To the point where they had willingly invaded each other's personal space. Where they had almost kissed.

Why hadn't they kissed?

Because of Jake. Irene. Because cheating on their respective partners was a line neither seemed willing to cross, no matter the temptation. Or maybe with a little more temptation.

No! No.

He shook away the thought and the adjoining imagery and pulled the leather-bound notebook from the bookshelf his personal notes lived on and sat down at his desk. It wasn't a thick notebook, but already pages and pages had been consumed with information on her. With diagnoses, other pieces of information, like family names she had relinquished. Where her family had originated. A little list of tells she had, tells he was still trying to work out the meaning behind. Which tell for which emotion.