by Nora Ash
“Look I...” She stepped out of the shower, keeping a firm grip on the towel. “I did it to myself. Before Dr. Hershey helped me. It’s been a way of coping. I know, it’s not smart, but I really think I’ll be able to deal with it better now.” She knew she was babbling in her attempt at throwing the other woman off her tracks, and it wasn’t that she was massively keen on adding ‘self-harm’ to her extensive file, but anything was better than Marathín taking lethal steps to ensure his continued free reign as a procurer.
“Honey...” Marie bit her lip. “Those do not look like self-inflicted bruises. If someone hurt you, you need to tell me.”
“No one’s hurt me.” Selma attempted a bright smile. “Everyone’s been so kind here. I promise; it was my own stupidity, nothing else. I’ll ask Dr. Hershey if he thinks I need help with it, but I honestly doubt it. I think he... cured me. Isn’t that amazing?”
The long, doubtful look she received for her efforts made her cheeks tighten, spreading the smile painfully across her face. Please, Marie. Please believe me. She felt water trickle down her back from her wet hair, dripping to the floor where she stood; the urge to dry up before her skin cooled from the amazing shower and her muscles seized up again only increased her need for the nurse to drop the issue.
“Is breakfast ready? I’m starving.” Nothing like a healthy appetite to convey the image of an equally healthy patient. Not that she was lying about that particular part—the night’s adventures had depleted her resources, and after the shower had loosened up her aching muscles her body was now free to focus on the gnawing hunger in the pit of her stomach.
“Yes.” Marie sent her another lingering look. “We are very understaffed this morning; most of the nurses, wardens and doctors are at a meeting until after lunch, so I will leave you to eat while I finish up with the other patients, and then come back to bring you to your appointment with Dr. Hershey in half-an-hour. After that, we will talk about those bruises some more.”
“Really, there’s no need …” Selma paused at the pained expression crossing the nurse’s face.
“Look, I... I shouldn’t be saying this, but... Honey, you’ve obviously been hurt, and only members of staff have had access to you. In the past we’ve had some... issues with some of the wardens. I know you’re probably very scared, but I promise that I will go directly to the police. You won’t have to see whoever did this again, and this time management won’t get the chance to sweep it under the rug.”
Selma frowned. They‘d ‘had issues in the past?’ She wondered if they really had had wardens behave unacceptably towards other patients, or if Marathín had simply covered his tracks after performing his special brand of examinations on unsuspecting women. Patients, as trapped and frightened as she had been. Was. And now this kind woman was planning to stand up to the injustice she thought came from the hospital management, not realizing that she wouldn’t be risking her job in the process—she would be risking her life.
“No.” She tried her best to look strong, convincing, as she stood wrapped in her towel on the cold, white tiles. “Don’t do that. There is no need, I promise.”
Marie’s lips pinched, determination not wavering from her blue eyes. “Dry yourself off, Selma, and have your breakfast. I will be back shortly.”
* * *
Selma picked at her breakfast, her growling stomach demanding nourishment even though she was sick with fear—fear for the upcoming mating, fear for Marie and fear for her future. She really, really didn’t need the extra concern of a nosy nurse asking questions that could get her killed on top of being less than an hour away from having to submit to the demon’s brutal sex again.
When the nurse came to get her, she had finished off the plate, but she hadn’t managed to calm herself into a state that might have any chance at fooling Dr. Hershey into believing that she would enjoy his attentions.
“Are you ready, honey?” Marie sent her an encouraging smile, and she managed to nod in return and get up. This was it. Her entire future depended on whether or not she could fool the demon into believing she wanted him. Her thoughts kept looping around the size of him and the ridges on the cock he’d be pressing into her, along with the fact that if he killed Marie for asking questions, she would be responsible. Cold fear knotted in her stomach.
“You don’t look so well, Selma. Is something wrong?” The nurse’s smile dropped for concerned focus. “Is it the bruises? Do you want to talk about what happened?”
“Nothing happened,” she said, doing her best to wipe the worry from her features. “I’m just a little tired. Is Dr. Hershey ready to see me now?”
Marie sent her another investigative look, but ended up nodding and leading her out the door. “We will talk more after your appointment. I’m not letting another girl …” She stopped herself and, with a strained smile, closed the door behind them. They walked through the empty corridors in silence, the sound of their footsteps echoing through the old building.
She did try to calm herself, to find her way back to the hazy sensation of pleasure and belonging she’d felt in his arms last night, but when Marie rapped her knuckles on the thick wooden door to Dr. Hershey’s office, her heart was drumming in her throat from anxiety.
The door opened inwards, revealing Marathín’s tall and darkly handsome figure. He smiled at the sight of them, stepping aside. “Selma, Marie. Do come in, both of you.”
Now what? Selma swallowed nervously. He couldn’t possibly know that the nurse was suspicious of the bruising he’d left—could he? Oh god, what was he going to do to the poor woman? She tried shooting him a pleading look, but he didn’t notice as he led them both further into his office before turning to look at them again.
“I know you’re very busy today Marie, so I won’t keep you long. I just want to hear if my patient has been eating properly and taking care of herself?”
His charming smile seemed to have the same effect on her as it did the other day; her cheeks went a bit rosy and she seemed like she was trying not to giggle like a schoolgirl under his attention. Clearing her throat, probably to regain her professional voice, she looked to Selma. “Well, she is eating well enough and has been sticking to your schedule, but I noticed some bruises on her today that she insists she did to herself.”
Selma paled. No. How was she meant to keep the nurse safe if Marathín knew what she’d seen?
Amber eyes caught her frightened gaze. “What is this, Selma?”
“It was before you helped me, Dr. Hershey,” she whispered. “I’ve self-harmed in the past, but only because of... the monsters. I don’t think it will ever happen again, now that I’m... cured.”
“I’m not sure she’s telling the truth,” Marie stated bluntly, placing a calming hand on her patient’s shoulder. “They don’t look self-inflicted, and you know... what’s happened in the past.”
His gaze moved to the nurse, and he nodded seriously. “I will look at them, and talk to Selma, Marie. If it is not self-inflicted we will take action, and if they are, we will incorporate that into her treatment.” The demon sent her a reassuring smile. “We will get to the bottom of this. Thank you for being so diligent in your duties, even when the department is running understaffed today.”
The blush returned full-force to Marie’s cheeks at his praise. “I’m just doing my job, Doctor.”
“You do it extraordinarily well.” His smile seemed extra brilliant, and Selma had a clear feeling that he was working his demon charms on the poor woman. “I won’t keep you from your other duties any longer. Thank you again.”
Marie nodded and moved towards the door, and Selma felt a small inkling of hope that the issue could be solved without further involvement from her; that maybe she’d be satisfied with Dr. Hershey proclaiming the bruises self-inflicted.
That was, until Marathín absentmindedly stroked a hand over her hip to soothe the marks hidden under her clothes in an intimate gesture. His back was to the door, and he must have assumed the nurse had already left
, or just reacted per instinct to calm her—since she had no hopes that her anxiety wasn’t showing through her scent—but Selma was still facing the door, and she saw Marie freeze with her hand on the door handle, gaze locked on the doctor’s hand.
Her eyes quickly darted to Selma’s, comprehension making them widen in shock.
Oh god! She was going to get herself killed! Selma shook her head ever so lightly, willing the other woman to leave, and leave now, before turning her attention to the demon, trying to keep his focus on her so he didn’t turn around. Hopefully, if she said the right thing, the nurse would understand how important it was that she kept silent and—even more vital—left before Marathín realized what she’d seen.
“I’m sorry; I was showering and she walked in, but I didn’t say anything. Please don’t hurt her.” Her voice was squeaky with pent-up fear, but it resonated loudly enough for Marie to hear. Selma dared a glance at her, and saw her eyes widen even further before she closed the door almost all the way, hiding her body from detection but leaving enough of a gap to hear his response.
“I won’t hurt her if I don’t have to.” Marathín cupped her cheek with his large hand, eyes carefully examining hers. “Because you ask it of me, my sweet. But if she goes any further with this, I will have to silence her. Do you understand? Play your part and she may live.”
Too terrified to do anything but nod, she prayed that Marie was smart enough to keep her nose out of it after hearing the consequences if she didn’t.
Seemingly, she was, because when the demon released her cheek and turned to lock the door, the nurse was gone and the door closed tight.
Selma exhaled a breath of relief. Whatever happened next, at least she wouldn’t be responsible for an innocent’s death.
“So.” Marathín’s deep voice shook her from her moment’s respite. The large man turned back around, eyes trailing the length of her body. “Let me see how bad the bruising is.”
Silently she lifted her top and pushed the waistband of her pants down a little, displaying the dark marks.
He moved closer, letting a finger slide gently over her bruised flesh, humming low in his throat as he took in the light damage. “Mating marks,” he murmured. “They are inevitable, I’m afraid. Do they hurt?”
Selma shook her head and let her shirt fall down to cover up her skin when he withdrew his hand.
“Did I hurt you anywhere else? I notice you move a little stiffly.” His hand stroked up her side, over her shoulder and down her arm in a caress that made her shiver; standing this close caused a nearly painful hyper awareness of him and his unnatural heat, and the fear bloomed from the pit of her stomach.
“I... my muscles are just sore.” Her throat had gone dry, leaving her voice to rasp out hoarsely.
“Mmh. And between your legs?” His large hand stroked down her stomach, resting just above her pubic bone. “Did my semen soothe you as it should?”
Blushing was perhaps a bit silly, given how intimately he’d gotten acquainted with that part of her already, but she felt heat touch her cheeks nonetheless. “Yeah. I don’t hurt there.”
“Very good.” The demon pulled back a little, letting his gaze sweep over her face. “But perhaps that is nonessential for now. Not only is the scent of your fear overpowering—it’s also painted all over your face. I take it you have changed your mind?”
Selma swallowed thickly. This was her last chance. “Marathín, it’s not that... I do want to...”
The demon sighed softly, regret flickering in the back of his eyes before that blank, professional mask returned. “There is no need, little Breeder; I will not keep you to words spoken on the cusp of a mating heat; do not fret. We will spend the remaining time of your stay here on preparing you as best we can for your life with a Lord. Any questions you may have I will attempt to answer.”
“I’m only scared that you will hurt me,” she blurted out, desperate to not lose her one out. “Please, give me a chance. I... I’ll just need... to get through it, and... please don’t give me away. I don’t want anyone else.” The tears weighing on her eyelashes were as surprising to her as they were to him, but the knowledge that she would become a slave if she didn’t convince him to mate her again—and that she enjoyed it—made panic clench tightly in her chest.
The demon paused, a perplexed expression crossing his features. “Hurt you? You reek of fear because you think that I might hurt you?”
The completely flabbergasted look on his otherwise composed face would have been amusing in a less desperate situation.
Selma nodded, biting her lip awkwardly. At least she didn’t have to play pretend for this. “Y-yes. You’re... very big, and…” She couldn’t get herself to mention the bumps, because that meant thinking about them sliding into her unwilling body. “I... without the mark, I don’t know if I can... take it.” Or survive.
He blinked, staring at her as if she’d suddenly sprouted horns. “You think there’s even the slightest chance I’d deliberately hurt you while mating? A Breeder I want to claim?”
“Not deliberately,” she whispered, suddenly feeling oddly guilty, as if she’d accused him of something outrageous. His dark stare certainly suggested as much.
“I can only assume you did not hear me when I explained what I would do to anyone causing you harm?” Marathín’s amber eyes were narrowed in obvious insult. “Did you think I would just tear into you like a savage?”
What was there to say to that? The night before hadn’t exactly been rich on foreplay.
The further darkening of his expression indicated that her face conveyed her thoughts quite clearly. “I took you roughly because you begged for it, if you recall. Coupling without the mark’s influence may be unpleasant at this point, but even if you are unable to find pleasure with me I would go slowly. If pain is truly the only thing that makes you reek with fear, then your worries are unfounded.”
Selma tried gauging the truth in his words. He seemed truly offended that she’d thought he may seriously harm her, even by accident, and... well, if the choice was a single time of unpleasant sex with him, or potential years of being forced by someone even bigger, then there was really only one option.
Slowly, avoiding eye contact in case his burning gaze might make her lose her nerve, she stepped closer to the unmoving man and, when he remained perfectly still, reached out a hand to touch his arm, brushing up underneath the sleeve of the white coat to feel his heated skin.
“Help me,” she whispered, relieved that the quiver she couldn’t suppress from her voice obviously spoke to his protective instincts, because his free hand went to her hip, pulling her closer to his large frame. “I want to be yours. Please, help me.”
“As you wish, little Breeder,” he rumbled. “Come then; let me help you relax.”
He led her to his chair and sat down, motioning for her to straddle his long legs.
Selma obeyed hesitantly, placing herself across his lap carefully, moving stiffly from the aching muscles in her hips, thighs and torso. Yet when her legs rested against him, his body’s heat radiated out and through both their clothing, instantly beginning to melt the tension in her hamstrings. An involuntary sigh of pleasure slipped past her lips; the sensation was even better than the hot shower had been, despite its source.
A pull on his mouth made her brave a look up at him. Some of the darkness from last night had returned to his eyes, and it called to something down low in her tender body. Shuddering as overworked muscles clenched in response, she determinedly pushed down the equally volatile instincts that screamed at her to run, and run far. This was what she needed, this spark of undeniable attraction to his dark demand; it was something she could use to prove that there was more for her to offer him than frightened submission.
Strong arms closed around her back, pulling her closer to his powerful torso, and she fought to squash the sudden flutter of anxiety as she realized exactly what part of his anatomy she was now straddling. If she could just focus on the desire
, remember how good it had felt to be taken by him, maybe she could somehow find pleasure again—
“Where do you hurt the most, Selma?”
She blinked in confusion at his softly modulated voice, so contradictive to the demanding burn deep in his gaze. When his large hands started moving up and down her back with just enough pressure for her muscles to respond to both the gentle caress and his addictive heat she couldn’t hold back a surprised sigh of contentment.
“Here?”
“Yeah.” Another sigh of pleasure escaped her as his fingertips started working on tender areas. “And my hips and thighs.” How could hands that size be so nimble? Her eyelids closed halfway before she realized that he was weaving yet another spell with his warmth and hypnotic presence, coaxing her to relax against him. However, in doing so he was inadvertently helping her focus on the task at hand; winning her freedom by playing along with his game.
“Good girl,” he murmured in response to her softening posture, without stopping his hands’ gentle dance along the muscles in her back. “Do you have any questions you would like answered to help set your mind at ease?”
Many.
“Yeah... why are you at war with the females of your kind?” Her eyelids fluttered open when his hands pause for the briefest of moments, and she caught the frown on his face before it smoothed over again.
“It’s not a particularly soothing topic, little Breeder.”
She grimaced; of course it wasn’t, if it was the reason behind their kidnapping of women. “Don’t you think I deserve to know either way? I was nearly killed by one of one of them without even knowing why I was targeted.”
He sat silently for a while, amber eyes distant and his hands moving as of their own will up and down her back, as if he was lost in contemplation. “What you are asking for is your mate’s duty to relay after he has claimed you. It is his responsibility, as your protector, to explain the more... unpleasant parts of our history.” His gaze finally focused on her, and there was just the barest touch of... anticipation in his soft voice, despite the ominous words.