Alpha Eyes Ch 01

"Dilan... Dilan!"

I blinked and shook my head slightly, my eyes coming back to focus on the woman sitting across from me. I adjusted my glasses nervously. "Sorry, Silvia..." I quirked a nervous smile. "I guess I just got distracted."

The woman gave me a disapproving look and shook her head. She bent her head and made a note on her clipboard with the pen she held in her hand.

I took the chance to steal another glance at her killer body.

I couldn't lie. My therapist was gorgeous. From her deeply tanned skin — I suspected she was half Latina — to the smooth curve of her long legs where she crossed them in that little black dress, Silvia Gunnarson was a stunner. Her black hair fell to her shoulders in a wave that seemed to reflect the light of her office, and I shifted, pressing my thighs together. I hoped she wouldn't notice the swell behind my zipper.

Was it really my fault if she was going to dress like that?

She glanced back up and stared into my face, her full lips turning down slightly in distaste. I knew that I hadn't been looking when she met my eyes, but her expression suggested that she was just waiting for a chance to catch me in the act.

Did I mention that she was also a total bitch?

I'm honestly not sure how someone with her bedside manner had become a therapist, or why she'd wanted to. She could have been a millionaire's trophy wife just as easily, or maybe a supermodel. If I could, I would have gone to someone else.

But Laura had told me that she wasn't going to let me switch therapists

"again."

So, for now, I was stuck under the penetrating, dark-eyed stare of one of the least—

"So, Dilan..." Silvia sighed and bit her lower lip. Her dark eyes flicked over my shoulder, and I knew she was checking the clock by the door. Our session had barely started. "What do you want to talk about today?"

I shrugged, then leaned back into the sofa. It was a classic therapy scenario, with a rich couch of black leather up against the wall and Silvia sitting in a chair near one end. I was happy that she hadn't invited me to lie down and tell her about my problems, because I never had, never wanted to, and never would be that silly whiny patient lying on the couch and moaning about how the world had fucked me over.

It was already burned into my memory. The night my dad had died. Why did everyone think I needed to talk about it?

"Your mother is worried about you." Silvia's voice was wheedling, but brittle. Like she was trying and failing to put on the mask of a caring counselor.

"She's not my mom!" I said it with a sudden petulance, like I was a kid and not a 24-year-old man. I sat up suddenly, erect, and narrowed my eyes. "And I don't know what she's told you but I'm not interested in reliving it anymore."

Silvia raised her eyebrows, like she was waiting for me to continue.

But I shook my head. For all I knew, Silvia would be reporting on our conversations. I knew it wasn't allowed — doctor-client privilege and all that — but I wouldn't have been surprised to hear that my stepmother was throwing a bit of extra cash Silvia's way to tell her everything I revealed in our sessions. And I wouldn't have been surprised to hear that Silvia had accepted the cash.

Dad's cash...

I closed my eyes, taking off my glasses and shaking my head again. Leaning forward with my elbows on my knees, I let the glasses dangle from one hand while I rubbed at my eyes with the heel of my other palm.

There was a long silence.

I heard Silvia stand, but didn't open my eyes or look up as I heard her heels cross to the other end of the room. The room was floored with hardwood, but most of it was covered with thick red carpet, comfortable enough that I could imagine lying down for a nap.

I bet a bit of sleep would be better therapy than this crap.

I hadn't slept well in over a year.

There was a small kitchen area on one side, which made the place feel more like a studio apartment than an office, and I heard running water. There was the

clink

of a cup being set on the counter, and then the drumming of water against the bottom of the sink disappeared for a moment, replaced by the sound of a filling glass.

What is she doing?

I wondered.

Is she just going to sit there while I...?

I shook my head. No. I didn't care. It wasn't like it mattered anyway.

I don't want to talk to her,

I reminded myself.

We can just sit here in silence until the end of the session.

I heard Silvia's heels coming back. I raised my head and opened my eyes as she sashayed back to her seat. She wasn't even trying and she looked like she was strutting on a runway.

She had a glass of water in one hand.

Damn,

I thought.

Didn't even ask if I wanted—

"Here, Dillan." Silvia sat down in her chair and held out the glass. She had a hard-to-read expression on her face, like she was trying to compose her features into a look of comforting companionship. It was apparently quite painful for her.

"Oh," I said. I took the cup. The glass was cool against my palm. There was a pause. "Thanks."

I lifted the glass to my lips and took a sip. It tasted cold and fresh, like it had come from some clean mountain stream instead of from the tap on the fifth story of an office building downtown.

Silvia raised her eyebrows at me again. "Good?" she asked.

I nodded. "Yeah."

"Good." The therapist sat back and crossed her knees again. She watched me closely, like I was some sort of laboratory experiment.

I furrowed my brows. I took another sip. The water trickled down my throat. I hadn't realized how thirsty I was. "So are you just going to stare at me for an hour and a half, or...?"

I froze.

Did I say that out loud?

Silvia snorted softly. She shook her head. "No..." Her voice was smoother than before, creamy and rich like a chocolate cake. "Just waiting."

I smiled.

Pretty voice...

She was a pretty woman.

Wait... What's going on?

"Waiting for what?" I asked with mounting dread. Something wasn't right.

The woman shrugged elegantly and leaned forward, forearms on her thighs.

I forced myself not to stare into the valley between her breasts, pushed together and offered up by her bra. The plunging neckline of her dress made it difficult not to notice them, the way her skin was the color of caramel... I imagined kissing between them, running my tongue—

Ooh... What's that?

I suddenly noticed something glinting around her neck. It had been hidden by her hair, but now I could see a thin gold chain with a pendant that fell down, tumbling out from the shadows. As she leaned forward further the pendant fell from between them, flashing and spinning. It caught the light, a simple golden coin that looked oddly out of place with the rest of her outfit. Like it was a million years old or something.

"What's that?" I asked. It felt like my voice was far away, echoing down to me through a flashing, spinning tunnel.

"Oh, this...?" Silvia asked. She reached down slowly and let the chain run through her fingers.

The action made the coin turn and sway back and forth.

"Yeah..." I blinked.

The couch touched my back.

Damn...

I realized I was laying down on the couch and Silvia was bending over me, her body close and the pendant hanging directly down from her neck.

I told myself I

didn't

want to do the whole, 'lay on the couch and talk about my problems' bit...

And then I wondered why there was a tiny set of alarm bells screaming in the back of my mind.

But it wasn't important... I just had to watch the pendant.

"Just watch the pendant, Dilan..." Silvia was saying, far away. "Just watch it spin and sway..."

I blinked. Was the room getting darker? I felt like I was looking up through a tunnel. Silvia was far away at the other end.

What's going on?

I tried to ask, but all I heard from my mouth was a soft, mumbled,

"Okay..."

"Good boy..."

I tried to frown at the sneer that I could now see on Silvia's full, sculpted lips. But my face was tired and slack, my eyelids barely able to stay open.

"Now..."

Silvia reached into her bra and pulled out a small vial of clear liquid with a rubber-topped eye dropper.

"Open your eyes nice and big for me..."

The tunnel entrance widened and suddenly I could see clearly again. My therapist was leaning over, her lips pressed together in a tight line as she concentrated. The eye dropper grew closer, but for some reason everything still seemed so far away.

"Just don't move..." The gorgeous woman ordered, and I did my best to stay perfectly still. My eyes were starting to get dry, but it was okay... I could see that she was about to drip several drops of the liquid into—

I screamed.

My vision blurred as the liquid struck them and burned like acid. I tried to blink it away but my eyelids wouldn't obey my commands. Or, at least, I thought they couldn't obey. In fact, they

were

obeying.

They just weren't obeying me.

"That's a good boy..." Silvia was murmuring. Her voice was honey smooth and sweet. It was the first time she'd sounded almost kind. "Such a good boy... Now just relax for me... Let your mind go blank and empty and black and dark..."

I don't know if I passed out from the pain or if my brain just did whatever she wanted, but suddenly I was floating in blackness. I couldn't tell if my eyes were open or closed, but I was staring into a void that suddenly seemed very, very close. It was like a giant pit of blackness had opened up in front of me and I was falling into it. I wondered if this was what it what it was like to be swallowed by a black hole.

And there was the pain. My eyes burned, and it felt like there was a hot knife being stabbed into my brain over and over and over...

And through it all, I never made a sound. I thought my mouth was open and my throat was wide and raw with screaming, but it was really too far away to tell. I never heard a single thing except for the soft, distant voice of my therapist, crooning words that echoed down into my mind. They were jumbled and echoing into each other, not making any sense.

Good boy... Do you remember...? Your father... Tell me about... and did he have a favorite...?

Then, I realized that I hadn't even blacked out yet, because the agony reached a threshold that I could no longer bear. And

that

was when I passed out from the pain.

* * *

Bright light speared through the crack in my eyelids. I groaned. There was a distant voice, and I think that that was what had awakened me.

"Yes, I put him under... I used the drug that you gave me... No, it's like I said, I don't think he knows anything..."

I recognized that voice. Didn't I? It echoed down the wide, empty halls of my mind and struck a chord somewhere. I groaned again and tried to move, tried to open my eyes further. My head was throbbing and my eyelids felt like they were weighed down by anvils.

"Fuck... I think it wore off, he's waking up... Yes, yes, fine, we'll talk later..."

Oh, yes. It was Silvia's voice.

Silvia!

I pushed aside the throbbing pain that felt like the worst hangover of my life. I used the surge of fear and anger as energy, forcing myself up into a sitting position. My body felt leaden and far away. When I opened my eyes the rest of the way, I gagged with the pain and hunched over, clutching at my face. It felt like someone had sandpapered my eyeballs, like they'd scraped away at them and left behind only a pair of light-sensitive orbs. I blinked and opened my eyes again, squinting and hissing. Then, through the pain, I opened them wide and stared.

It was as if the world had snapped into focus around me. I had friends who had taken Ecstasy, and they said that the drug made colors brighter and sharper. Maybe this was what it was like, but on steroids.

The pain faded, replaced by a sudden sense of bright, sharp clarity.

Silvia was sitting in front of me, slipping a cell phone back into her purse. She slid the purse under her chair, bending forward and I saw the glinting golden metal of the coin in the depths between her full breasts.

"What did you do to me?!" My voice was a hoarse rasp, and I coughed. It was painful.

Silvia glanced up. "Ah, yes, Dilan." Her voice was back to its ordinary tone of false positivity edged with contempt. "You're awake. Perfect... What do you remember?"

My breath came faster and my heart raced, but the pain was slowly receding. The dull, throbbing sensation behind my forehead and the sharpness of colors remained. I swallowed. "You drugged me!" My voice was harsh, an accusation with the weight of truth behind it. "What did you give me?!"

She didn't seem to want to meet my gaze, looking instead again at the clock on the wall behind me. "We have a couple more minutes before the end of our session, if—"

I jerked forward, grabbing her wrist. "Look at me, damnit!" I demanded.

She struggled, standing and trying to pull away, but I was bigger and stronger than she was.

I stood, too, my hand rising and grabbing her by the jaw. "What did you

do

to me?!" My voice was louder now, and I felt the edge of pain in my throat. I guess I

had

screamed, after all. I tilted back the woman's beautiful face, forcing her to stare into my eyes.

My therapist's body went slack so suddenly that I worried I'd hurt her. Her dark eyes stared up into mine, and they were so wide that I could practically see my reflection. Her arm went limp, dragging at my hand as it dropped down to her side.

"Silvia?" It speaks more to my character than to my feelings about the woman that I felt immediate concern. "Are you okay...?" I stepped back, my hands flinching away from her like she was a hot stovetop.

The woman blinked, slowly. It seemed to take a long time. Then she murmured,

"Yes..."

My face bunched together in a frown of confusion. "What...?" She looked drugged and dreamy, like she was high on something. But she was the one who'd drugged

me!

I shook my head. "What the

fuck

is going on?" I demanded. My voice was lower now, no longer shouting, and I felt the weight of it. It was easier on my throat to speak this way, in a tone that was gruff but commanding.

The woman wet her lips. I noticed the movement, suddenly. Then, like a series of puzzle pieces slotting together all at the same time, a dozen other details sprang to my attention. The way she was staring into my face, her pupils dilating. The slight flush of her cheeks. The way her weight shifted and her thighs rubbed gently together.

She was getting turned on...

What the fuck?

"Silvia!" I said sharply. "What are you looking at?" My fear at being drugged was wearing away as I seemed to be experiencing no permanent damage to my sight. Just this strange clarity.

The woman's voice was low and smooth when she spoke, without expression.

"Your eyes, Sir..."

Shit. Shit shit shit.

I swallowed. Had there been permanent damage after all? "Do you have a mirror?" I asked.

The woman nodded mutely, her gaze still never wavering from my face. Then she said,

"Yes... In the bathroom. Through the door..."

She gestured sideways with one hand, and I remembered the tiny bathroom tucked away in the corner of her office.

I glanced sideways, noticed the door. "It's locked," I said. "Key, please."

The woman nodded again, slowly. "Of course, Sir..." Then she bent and pulled the purse from under her chair. With one small hand, she reached inside and pulled out a ring of keys. It jangled as she handed it to me, her face suddenly flickering with a momentary uncertainty.

She met my eyes again and her expression smoothed. Then, it slowly began to transform. Microexpression by microexpression. Now, she was staring at me like she wanted to shove me back onto the couch and—

I shook my head.

What the hell...?

But I couldn't think about that right now. I had to see what was wrong with my eyes.

I strode across the room and I was turning the key in the lock mechanism before I registered the fact that the door was, in fact, locked.

But how had I known?

* * *

"Holy fuck."

I stared into the mirror, picking up every speck of detail. The mirror was mostly clean, but I could see the tiny flecks where water had splashed up and dried. I could see what looked like every pore in my face. And I could see my eyes, which did not look like they used to.

My eyes used to be brown, a light hazel color that apparently I had inherited from my birth mom. She had died, too. It happened when I was little, so I only had photos to go from instead of real memories. But I didn't have her hazel eyes anymore.

My eyes were grey.

No...

I thought. My hazel irises had been drained of color, gone greyscale, but instead of a matte, watery tint they looked luminous. Like there were tiny lamps behind my eyes, beaming through them and giving them a shining glow.

Not grey,

I corrected myself.

Silver.

My silver eyes twitched sideways, to the other side of the half-closed bathroom door. I had heard the sounds of heels, of harried movement.

Some part of my mind flickered with thought, but before I could consciously recognize what I'd been thinking I had pulled the door open and was rushing through. My long strides carried me across the room and I grabbed Silvia by the arm as she spun to face me.

Her arms were slim but I could feel the muscle beneath her skin as she struggled. It didn't matter. I was probably half again as heavy as she was and had the build of a man who spent too much time in the gym. I yanked her back toward me, spinning her into my grip. My second hand clamped down on her shoulder and she gasped with surprise.

Usually it would have felt wrong to manhandle a woman like this. I had, after all, been raised to treat women with a certain level of respect. But this woman... I felt a scowl touch my mouth and my jaw tightened. She had done something to me, broken what

small

amount of trust I'd invested in her as my therapist. I felt no hesitation whatsoever

She stared up into my face, her eyes flashing wide and afraid. "No! Please! Please don't hurt—" Only then she broke off suddenly and her voice trailed away.

I think I read once that there are 43 muscles in the human face. I stared down into my therapist's eyes, watching as the tension melted away from every single one of those muscles. In a split second, her face went from a grimace of terror to a mask of smooth, placid ease.

It was uncanny.

"What's going on, Silvia?" I sucked in a breath of air and blew it out, slowly. I didn't look away. I had no idea what was happening, but I did know that somehow looking into my eyes was keeping her calm and docile. And I needed her that way if I was going to interrogate her. "What did you do to me?"

"Mmm..."

My therapist let out a low, soft sigh. Her body seemed to relax, just like her face had done. Her shoulders slumped under my hands and I let my fingers loosen.

Somehow I could tell that she wasn't going to try and run away.

"I don't... I feel so strange..." The woman didn't look away, though, staring deeper into my face like she could stare through my eyes and pluck from my mind the answers to her situation.

"What..." I said slowly. "Did you do to me?"

"Drugged you..." The woman shrugged ever so briefly, her shoulders rising fractionally under my hands. I felt her skin brush across my fingertips and suddenly noticed the heat that was growing in my body. The woman was staring up at me with utter focus, all of her attention on my face. "It's a new drug... Synthetic... To make you calm, suggestible... Controllable..."

You can't know how much of a turn on it is for someone that gorgeous to be giving you their undivided, absolute attention. I swallowed, realizing that the heat had wormed its way down into a tightness in my core, realizing that my cock was swelling between my legs.