Page 18
Story: Mask and the Magnolia (Fiends and Floras Omegaverse #1)
If Camden is going to escalate, if he’s going to start making threats that I know he can follow through with, why am I even trying?
The shuttle slows as we get close to Blackhurst Ridge, and it’s all I can do to muffle the sob that’s about to break free from my chest. I pull my hands into my sleeves and quickly wipe at the tear stains, attempting to remove the mascara bleeding down my cheeks.
I just need to get to Ward C and find a place to clean myself up, then I’ll be fine. As fine as I can be.
Problem is, there isn’t really any place to hide up there.
Intentionally, we don’t need murderers hiding from the staff, but the architect didn’t consider sobbing omegas who were doomed to a fate worse than death and reminded of it daily when they drew up the blueprints.
Not that they had to, it just would have been nice.
I move through security as quickly as possible, all but racing past everyone who says hello in favor of hitting the elevators as fast as I can.
Once the doors open, I rush toward the nurse’s station, grateful that there’s no one there to greet me but when I try to go toward Isaak’s office, I stop dead in my tracks.
My father is standing there with Nurse Hubbard, the two barking god only know what at the rest of the nurses and guards.
No.
No, no, no. I can’t do this right now. There is no way I can deal with whatever is happening in that hallway, or confronting the Dean. Not when he knows I just came from breakfast with Camden and probably what happened when I left.
No, this can’t happen right now.
Which is why I spin on my heel and face the resident’s room, my eyes pinging around the hall as if there is anywhere down that way for me to hide.
There isn’t.
Not unless I want to bunk with one of the Rooker boys, or whoever else might be in their room.
They don’t scare me, not really, but I have no idea what would happen if I stormed into their space bawling and terrified. I’d hate that if it happened to me, and these men deserve their privacy as well as the dignity that comes with it.
Which leaves the common areas.
I turn toward the community living room, ignoring the sheet covered furniture and unmounted TV, then my eyes dart down the hall behind it.
That was supposed to house more residents.
Another eight rooms for more alphas to rehabilitate but only if Dr. Lowe is successful. Until then, those rooms remain open and the hall will house things like a pool table and other recreational activities to keep the men from going stir crazy.
But I can’t hide down there, either, since it’s meant for them and has to be as visible as possible.
My gaze shifts to the group my father is now screaming at before it swings back in front of me.
There’s an emergency exit, one that doubles as a back entrance and goes directly outside, but that won’t work for me since I need to be here. Not just for the sake of my official title as ‘doctor’, either.
I start to panic as I search for somewhere to go, my anxiety making it harder to keep my tears at bay and focus, and just when I’m seconds from collapsing on the floor and hoping I blend in with the tile, I see the storage closet.
I forgot all about that.
I don’t know how I did, that’s where O’Brien found the Rookers.
It’s unlocked at all times and accessible to the residents while they’re out. There’s not much in there right now, nothing other than furniture they plan on having in the common areas and overflow items.
Which means it’s fucking perfect.
Holding my breath, I reach down and pull off my flats then run on tiptoe toward the closet, carefully opening and closing the door, quietly slipping inside.
“Fuck,” I whisper as I close my eyes and press my back against the wall. I listen for a few moments to make sure no one heard me and when I’m positive I’m home free, I give myself permission to fall the hell apart. “I can’t do this.”
I can’t keep fighting the inevitable, can’t keep subjecting myself to a fabricated reality in which I break my contract and get to live happily ever after. I’m only hurting myself by doing it, and that’s not really doing any favors for Eve because it’s giving her that same false hope.
Sniffling a few times, I try to calm down, try to change my line of thinking and focus on work and today’s agenda then move toward the desk under the window.
Only to fall apart all over again when I look through the bars into the courtyard, the symbolism too hard to ignore.
“Dr. Reynolds?”
I spin toward the gravely voice behind me, barely able to hide the way I was caught in the middle of a sob with my red rimmed eyes and tear stained cheeks.
Quickly wiping my face, I straighten my spine and force a smile. “Good morning, Mr. Severe.”
He frowns at me as the closet door closes behind him, those pale gray eyes moving over me from head to toe in a way I can feel.
Which isn’t good, because it’s happening again.
If I thought it was problematic to be attracted to my mentor, what the hell am I supposed to think about the way my entire body lights up like a fireworks display when I’m alone with the beta and two of the alphas I’m supposed to be treating?
Korvin Severe being one of them.
I’ve managed to keep myself from perfuming like a crazy lady but I don’t have any idea how long I’m going to be able to hold that off.
All the drugs in the world didn’t stop it from happening on the day the residents were brought in, and unless they just knock me out cold, I don’t see that changing.
Especially when Mr. Severe is seemingly oblivious to it.
That derails my line of thinking long enough to shift my attention from his extremely sexy face, to the muzzle he’s wearing on it.
“You aren’t supposed to have this on when you’re out.” I take a few steps toward him, lifting my hands to the back of his head while I press up on my toes. “Just like the cuffs but I don’t have a key for those…”
I slowly unbuckle the leather and metal from his hair, Korvin staring at me the entire time, and it’s that exact moment that I realize I fucked up.
I’m not a very tall person, some even call me petite regardless of the size of my ass, and reaching up to take the muzzle off of a six-foot-five alpha means that I’ve not only closed the gap between us, I’ve eliminated any and all space that could have existed because my chest is plastered to the front of him for leverage.
A whole lot of leverage.
Hard, rippling leverage rising and falling against me, the kind I can feel despite my sweater and his jumpsuit separating us. The kind that requires Korvin to use his cuffed hands to try to hang on to my hips so I don’t fall.
This is not good.
Especially when I don’t exactly move out of his grip, I just drop the muzzle and stare into his eyes so long I forget everything that’s happened up until this very moment.
Somewhere along the way, Mr. Severe dipped his head enough for me to do what I blindly set out to do, and now our faces are nearly as close as our bodies. So close that if I leaned forward just a little, my lips would touch his and?—
“Why were you crying?”
Just like that, those carefully whispered words snap me back to reality.
Almost.
I still don’t move, and I don’t ask Korvin to let go of me. But I can put together enough words to answer him without drooling. “I wasn’t.”
“Mhm.” His fingers flex on my hip as his irises darken right before my eyes then a small smile pulls at his lips seconds before he leans in and nuzzles my neck at the base.
“I can smell it, Dr. Reynolds. Your sadness.” Then Korvin pulls me closer, his scent rolling off him in waves as I feel his tongue trace my collarbone before he drags it up to my jaw and gently nips it with his teeth then whispers against my skin. “I can taste it.”
And that is the very moment my body defies all odds, powers through my medication, and I perfume so hard I actually whine. My eyes slide shut as I rub my thighs together, my nails biting into Korvin’s biceps, pulling a grunt from him that has me slicking more than I think I ever have.
“Fuck,” he grunts again, putting space between us before steadying me on my feet.
“Yes.” I nod my head but don’t open my eyes. “That. That’s it.”
A deep chuckle rumbles in front of me briefly, and I quickly force myself to look, thrilled that I did because Korvin Severe is beautiful when he laughs. Even if it’s tiny and seems to surprise him.
“This is going to be a problem.”
I blink at him then frown. “What is?”
“You.”
“Me?” I fix the front of my sweater and check my skirt, definitely insulted by that. “How am I the problem? You’re the one in cuffs.”
My hands fly to my mouth as my eyes go saucer wide but Korvin just laughs again. “True.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. I… wait.” I park my hands on my hips and give him a dirty look. “Why don’t you ever talk this much in group?”
“Too many people.”
“Okay, I’ll give you that. What about your sessions? It’s only me and Dr. Lowe.” Korvin just arches a brow at me in response, which takes me longer to understand than I’d like to admit but I get it eventually. “Well, I guess we have a problem, then.”
“You don’t talk this much in group or my sessions either, Reynolds.”
Shrugging my shoulders, I cross my arms and lean against the closest piece of furniture.
Don’t need to tell Mr. Severe that’s because I want to bang my mentor.
Or that I want to suck said mentor off while the alpha currently staring holes in my head knots my pussy.
Or that my fantasies go well beyond his individual sessions and ever since I dropped a dildo and vibrator in front of them, I use those toys every single day after work.
Sometimes multiple times. All while thinking of them.
My favorite scenario to torture myself with as of late is one that involves Isaak and I both in heat, being rutted by Severe and Hawthorne while St. James—don’t ask me why, I’m a mess and attracted to him, too—licks my pussy and shoves his dick down the doctor’s throat.
Or vice versa. Either way it’s all five of us, and I have no idea why.
Aside from being absolutely miserable in my life beyond these walls.
Yep, I’m having the most intense fantasies of my life about a gang bang with three murderers and the doctor I’m working with to treat them.
I am even more fucked up than I thought.
I’ve been trying very hard to push all of those thoughts down and bury them deep but I’m not sure I can anymore. Just like I don’t know how to keep fighting that stupid contract, I have no idea how to keep fighting these feelings.
None of that is appropriate, professional, ethical, or anything else that emphasises all of the ways how I feel is wrong.
Wrong and impossible to act on.
Not to mention super pointless since I’m going to be subjected to nothing but Camden Blackhurst for the rest of my life, and I already know how miserable that’s going to make me.
“It’s not my place to lead group yet.” I clear my throat and fiddle with my hair. “And your session is for you to talk, not me.”
“Yeah.”
I scowl at Korvin. “It’s true. All of it.”
“Sure.”
“You think you know everything, Mr. Severe? Then you tell me why I’m so quiet during your therapy.”
“Because that personalizes things.” He takes a few steps toward me, crowding my space in the best possible way. “Personalizes, and makes it harder to keep us at a distance when you so clearly don’t want that. Don’t you, honey?”
I shake my head without even thinking, the response involuntary even if it’s right.
“Can’t have what you want, so you shut down instead.” Korvin dips his chin, his breath fanning across my lips. “Can’t have us and your title, too, so you bottle it all up inside until you’re ready to burst.”
“Mhm,” I whimper as his lips ghost over mine, a feather light touch I try leaning into. I’m going to burst now if he’s not careful.
Suddenly, he growls and turns away from me, Korvin lifting his hands to his hair in frustration. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t keep doing things like this.”
Instead of agreeing with him before listing how what he’s doing can be problematic then running out of this room, my father be damned, something comes over me and I blurt, “I don’t want you to stop.”
And the shithead responds with a dark chuckle followed by, “I know.”
“So, don’t.”
“I have to.”
“Not really.” What the hell has gotten into me?
I was bad before but this is terrible, and I can’t help but think it’s partially because of Camden.
Which isn’t right. It’s not fair to Korvin if I’m just looking to break my code of ethics so I can get back at my incredibly doomed future and those who orchestrated it.
Despite what his file says or what people may think, he doesn’t deserve to be used like that.
“There is a time and place for everything, Reynolds, but here and now are not it.” He blows out a breath and watches me attempt to put myself together before reaching for the door.
Well that’s bullshit. Apparently I have spent too much time at the asylum because I am starting to feel crazy. Crazy and like I have less control than I thought.
That’s why I damn near pout and ask, “Then when?”
“In time. I’ve got to work it out first.” Korvin pulls the door open and steps aside for me to walk through and just before I get out into the common room he whispers, “But I will give you what you want, Dr. Reynolds, and when I do, your ass will always be mine.”
I stumble over nothing as I try to walk past Calix, the man leaning against a covered couch with a grin as he watches me. He probably heard all of that and honestly, I don’t care. So what if he did?
Then again… I don’t dare look back at either of them, not if I want to keep up appearances, which I sadly do, but I can feel their eyes on me and that’s enough to have me questioning everything.
I don’t know what just happened but I know I liked it, I want it to happen again, and if Korvin Severe doesn’t make good on what he said at least once before I’m locked away in Camden’s tower, I might quit the program and go on a spree of my own so I’m thrown in here with them permanently.
That wouldn’t be a problem for anyone.
Table of Contents
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- Page 18 (Reading here)
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