Page 49
Story: Land of Shadow
“Everything,” he says simply.
“Thanks for clearing that up.” I roll my eyes.
“You haven’t been sleeping. You look pale.” His gaze holds mine as I finish taping the last puncture.
“My usual spray tan lady is on vacation.” I sit back on my heels.
“Droll, as always.” He smirks.
“Dickish, as always.” It just slips out.
“If you’ve finished groping me, I’d best be on my way.”
I sputter. “Gropingyou?”
“I think you rather enjoy touching me, Doctor. Far beyond any sort of clinical curiosity.” He snatches my hand and presses it to his chest.
“Hey!” I’m leaning over him now, bracing myself with my free hand to keep from falling onto him.
“How about this?” His eyes bore into me as I feel his heartbeat. It’s strong. Slow. Almost too slow. “Does this scratch your curious itch?”
Why is he so warm?
“What are you?” I stare down at him, searching his blood-stained face for some sort of answer.
“Would you care to keep inspecting me?” He glances down. “Perhaps take the full tour for once?”
I try to pull my hand free, but he holds me still effortlessly. “Let go.”
“Why should I?” He sits up, his body suddenly far too close to mine.
I scramble back, but he maintains his grip on my wrist, my palm pressed flat against his chest.
“Your heart is racing, Doctor.”
“Because you’re scaring me.”
“Liar.” His gaze darts to my mouth.
Something in the way he says it, like his tongue is caressing the word, sends a jolt of heat through me. Some swirl of euphoria low in my belly where it doesn’t belong.
“Let go.” My request is breathless.
He leans closer, his mouth so close to mine I feel the whisper of his breath. “All right.” With that, he releases his grip, and I scramble back then clamber to my feet.
He gets up easily, as if he weren’t mortally wounded, and swipes all the bloody gauze from the floor. Then he snags his shirt, his muscles bunching beneath his smooth skin. I look away and remind myself this is all clinical. Me doing my job. Helping people. Even him.
“You can’t do things like that. You have to … This is professional.”
He smirks down at me. “Is that so?”
“Yes.” I say with as much force as I can despite the weakness in my knees.
“In that case, you’ll be pleased that I managed to keep this intact.” He hands me a vial, the contents already beginning to congeal.
“‘Intact’ is stretching it.” I sigh at the state of the sample. “Why can’t you give me what I need?”
One of his dark eyebrows rises, his lips twitching, the implication in the air between us.
“Thanks for clearing that up.” I roll my eyes.
“You haven’t been sleeping. You look pale.” His gaze holds mine as I finish taping the last puncture.
“My usual spray tan lady is on vacation.” I sit back on my heels.
“Droll, as always.” He smirks.
“Dickish, as always.” It just slips out.
“If you’ve finished groping me, I’d best be on my way.”
I sputter. “Gropingyou?”
“I think you rather enjoy touching me, Doctor. Far beyond any sort of clinical curiosity.” He snatches my hand and presses it to his chest.
“Hey!” I’m leaning over him now, bracing myself with my free hand to keep from falling onto him.
“How about this?” His eyes bore into me as I feel his heartbeat. It’s strong. Slow. Almost too slow. “Does this scratch your curious itch?”
Why is he so warm?
“What are you?” I stare down at him, searching his blood-stained face for some sort of answer.
“Would you care to keep inspecting me?” He glances down. “Perhaps take the full tour for once?”
I try to pull my hand free, but he holds me still effortlessly. “Let go.”
“Why should I?” He sits up, his body suddenly far too close to mine.
I scramble back, but he maintains his grip on my wrist, my palm pressed flat against his chest.
“Your heart is racing, Doctor.”
“Because you’re scaring me.”
“Liar.” His gaze darts to my mouth.
Something in the way he says it, like his tongue is caressing the word, sends a jolt of heat through me. Some swirl of euphoria low in my belly where it doesn’t belong.
“Let go.” My request is breathless.
He leans closer, his mouth so close to mine I feel the whisper of his breath. “All right.” With that, he releases his grip, and I scramble back then clamber to my feet.
He gets up easily, as if he weren’t mortally wounded, and swipes all the bloody gauze from the floor. Then he snags his shirt, his muscles bunching beneath his smooth skin. I look away and remind myself this is all clinical. Me doing my job. Helping people. Even him.
“You can’t do things like that. You have to … This is professional.”
He smirks down at me. “Is that so?”
“Yes.” I say with as much force as I can despite the weakness in my knees.
“In that case, you’ll be pleased that I managed to keep this intact.” He hands me a vial, the contents already beginning to congeal.
“‘Intact’ is stretching it.” I sigh at the state of the sample. “Why can’t you give me what I need?”
One of his dark eyebrows rises, his lips twitching, the implication in the air between us.
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