Page 29

When did my life become a slow-motion movie montage without the awesome soundtrack or reciprocated love interest?

Lately, it has been more of a horror flick in the making, but there were those rare moments for me when it leaned toward a romantic comedy with a body count.

It was only seconds that I was waiting after knocking, but it felt like I was standing outside his door for hours.

I was about to knock again when the doorknob turned before the door opened.

I don't know why, or what I was expecting, but when the door opened my eyes widened and my mouth went dry.

It was just like Zane said it was, Viggo's hair was supernatural! Somehow, it floated away from him on a phantom breeze even when he wasn't moving!

"Has something transpired?" Viggo asked; his voice thick with concern.

"Huh?" I asked before shaking my head to clear it.

My eyes moved over his bare upper body, lingering down his abdominal muscles that formed a perfect cut V, the inguinal crease on the front of each hip that I found unbelievably sexy on a man, only made him that much sexier in my eyes.

It doesn't matter how many times I have seen Viggo without a shirt on, all the one time prior to this, but it was amazing to behold.

I wanted to caress my fingers along each deep inguinal crease before repeating with my tongue...

Holy shit!

I am turning into a pervert like my brother!

"Is there something I can help you with?" Viggo asked, unsure.

"Yes, I think," I said; that didn't come out right. "Can I come in?" I asked.

Viggo looked at me for a moment before he waved me inside.

I'm sure I set a land speed record when I darted into his room faster than anyone without sex on the mind would have moved.

"May I take your jacket?" Viggo asked from directly behind me, causing me to jump, startled.

That never happened, ever, and yet I jumped often from Viggo's proximity.

I looked over my shoulder, meeting his eyes.

His hands were out, expectant.

"I guess," I said and started to unzip my hoodie but stopped. "No, you can't. I'm sorry for coming over unannounced, but I didn't have your number so I could announce my visit... Okay, that was way overly formal and not normal," I groaned.

Viggo didn't say anything, but I was hyper-aware that he was behind me, directly behind me, wearing only a pair of cotton pajama pants that were riding dangerously low on his hips, his dark hair was resting over his shoulders in large, loose curls that I wanted to knot my fingers in.

"You dropped something," he said, offering me the condom that had fallen from my pocket.

Can this get any more embarrassing if I tried?!

"A gift from Slevin," I said with a smile as he stepped around me, looking between me and the condom wrapper. "Care to model it for me?"

Yes, yes it can.

Viggo looked from me to the foil square, and he turned it over in the light. "They come in sizes, and I am most certain this one is not my size," he said, offering it back to me.

Rejected, again.

"Oh, you have a micro-penis, huh?" I surmised.

His eyes widened. "Pardon?"

I smiled wide.

Viggo growled, a deep, menacing sound of raw animalistic masculinity of frustration as he stepped into me.

My lashes fluttered and my breathing hitched.

I hated how much I loved it when he did that.

Viggo took the toggle to my hoodie's zipper between his fingers and started to pull it down. "The verbal evasion game you force me to play is maddening," he said before softly growling in frustration, causing my lashes to flutter before my hand snapped out and wrapped around his, stopping him when the zipper reached my sternum.

"As much fun as Slevin's gift suggests I want to have," I said, trying to compose myself. "And what my current lack of a shirt would support, and how unbelievably sexy I find that deep, menacing growl of yours, the truth is I couldn't manage to put a shirt on because of limited mobility and pain, not because of what you're thinking."

Viggo's head tilted to the side to regard me before he pushed his falling hair out of his face. "Oh," he said, finally understanding what I was saying. "My apologies. That was not my intention or what I thought you were leading towards at all. Turn around and let me see if you ripped out any sutures. I smell blood, fresh blood."

Damn it.

I turned around then carefully pulled my hoodie down my shoulders more, just enough that my breasts were still covered by my arms.

I flinched when his fingers caressed along my shoulders.

Softer than a fluttering moth's wing, his fingers moved over my skin.

Okay, this is weird, but the contact is strangely pleasant.

I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat as I fought to remember how to breathe.

Viggo pulled the shoulders of my hoodie back up. "It is as I thought. You ripped your sutures out in three places and are bleeding," he said. "We must go."

"What?" I turned around and looked at him confused, zipping my hoodie up. "Where are we going?" I demanded, regaining my composure.

The look on Viggo's face wasn't something I had seen from him before, and for once I clearly understood it; he was concerned and greatly pained.

"Ariadne, you are hurt and you need medical attention," he scolded.

"I've had worse. It may take a bit longer to recover from, but I'll be fine," I assured him.

Viggo walked across the room and grabbed a long-sleeved black cotton shirt that was lying across the chair by the desk and pulled it over his head, the cotton stretching tight across his muscular body. "I am confident that you will eventually recover physically, however, there is no need to risk it," he said, grabbing a hair tie from the pen cup on the desk, my hair tie I noticed, then pulled his hair back into a knot bun.

That meant something to me.

I moved to the couch and sat down. "No. I'm not going anywhere; I have questions and I want answers."

Viggo glared at me and softly huffed under his breath in frustration. "I do not have time for this."

"Make time," I said, jutting my chin out.

We glared at each other, neither of us giving an inch.

Viggo's beautiful multitoned green eyes showed so many emotions for once that it was a struggle to get past them so I could admire the rest of his handsome face.

Everything about him is annoyingly beautiful!

It was annoying... He is annoying!

I don't like the way merely his presence makes me feel.

It makes me feel...

Vulnerable.

"Fine," Viggo said, sitting in the chair across from me, and I felt a strange thrill at this small victory, almost like I won some kind of big prize because he gave in. "However, I have terms."

Damn it.

"Of course, you do," I groaned. "You don't make anything easy. You couldn't just let me Pawn G5 to G7, could you?" I complained.

Viggo snorted, leaning back in his chair, and crossed his arms, looking at me, appearing amused. "You want me to Gunnar Gundersen you? Because checkmate is inevitable with that move," he reminded me.

I moaned; just when I didn't think he could get any hotter, he went and raised the bar by showing his geek-cred. "Whatever. Let's have it. What are your terms?" I asked.

"I will answer your unasked questions if you go to the Healing Center and submerge yourself in the healing mud. I will even allow you more than one since you were foolish enough to think that you could Gunnar Gundersen me more than once."

Damn it. Why wouldn't Viggo make sure he covered all exploitable loopholes in his request? That was, exactly, the loophole I was going to exploit: go to the Healing Center then leave.

"Why are you so hell-bent on me getting laid? Healed! I mean healed?" I shouted with wide eyes.

Viggo shook his head with a small, amused smile. "Why are you so hell-bent on not?" he retorted. "The Healing Pools only work if the person they are healing wants to be healed by them, so throwing you over my shoulder and tossing you in the mud would be pointless. You have to want to be healed. That is why only critical cases are considered touch and go, as they say, and do not always work. So, I ask again, why are you so adamant about not being healed?"

Viggo wouldn't understand because he's a Prince and is entitled to that type of healing.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Use your words, speak them aloud, and let us argue your position on it since you know mine by now," he said, looking at me. "You are too beautiful to simply ruin that with scars because you are stubborn and do not think you are worthy of healing."

Excuse me, what did he just say?

Viggo thinks I'm beautiful?!

I blushed. "You think I'm beautiful?" I asked with a smirk.

His head tilted to the side before he snorted. "There is not a male or female on this campus that does not find you attractive in some way or another," he said.

"That's nice to know, but it doesn't answer my question."

"I would not say beautiful," Viggo said.

My smile fell.

Oh rejection, thou are my companion!

Yes, I was being overly dramatic.

"Do you accept my terms?" Viggo asked, cocking an eyebrow.

The annoying Vampire was going to get my foot up his ass if he didn't stop it.

Why was I nervous about coming here again? Coming to see him in his institutionally organized room?

Then again, my back does hurt, and so does my neck.

"Fine," I conceded.

Honestly, I don't care if he answers my questions or not anymore.

I just want to be as far away from him as possible.

I got up and then headed to the door, shoving my hands in my pockets as I went.