by Fall, Carly
Bad idea. However, even in his ruined state, he liked the idea of hitting it off with the pretty blonde doctor in the corner.
She deserves better than you.
Yeah, right.
Fucking conscience.
“I’m okay, honey,” he said to Abby. They talked about nothing for a few minutes, then Hudson watched through a Vicodin fog as Abby talked briefly with Beverly. He couldn’t hear what they were saying though. Not because they were speaking in such low tones, but because he had gone deaf. He felt his eyes starting to roll into the back of his head as he tried to watch Abby and Noah leave the room.
All of a sudden, the garlic from the lasagna became a potent, offending odor, and his stomach rolled. And rocked. And rolled again.
“Oh, no,” he heard Beverly murmur. He turned over to the side of the bed just as a garbage can appeared in front of him, and then he vomited.
Chapter 14
Two hours later, Beverly plopped into the overstuffed chair, utter fatigue wrapping itself around her bones. She kept her eye on Hudson, who seemed to be finally resting peacefully. He had suffered an allergic reaction to the Vicodin, which reminded her of her own purge of the narcotics in rehab, and she was grateful that the worse part of it seemed to be the vomiting for Hudson.
As she held his head while his system evacuated the drug, she had worried he would break open the stitches. After checking them carefully, she was proud of the job she did. Not one suture was loose.
After the first round of vomiting, he had laid his head in her lap and began to shake. She made shushing noises and stroked his back while running her fingers through his hair.
A few minutes later, he was sick again. After that episode, they resumed the position of his head in her lap, except this time he wrapped his arm around her waist and held her as if she were a lifeline.
It reminded her of her own withdrawal from prescription drugs. She felt every tremor and wretch as if it were her own.
At that moment, he was such a contradiction. His huge body looked as if it was capable of mass destruction, yet it shook violently and uncontrollably with vulnerability she never would have imagined. The groans that emanated from his throat were of pain, both physical and otherwise.
Finally, he drifted off into rest. She gently disentangled herself from his grasp and lay his head down on the soft silk pillow. As she pulled the comforter up over his massive shoulders, she studied his face. Even in sleep his face seemed troubled, the little crinkle between his brows never relaxing. She wondered what would cause him such inner turmoil. Looking at his battered face, she noticed that his nose was slightly bent at the bridge. His black hair cascaded over his shoulders, and she decided that even though he looked like death warmed over, he was still the most beautiful man she had ever seen.
And he needed to rest, not be studied like some gutted frog under a microscope. She needed to sleep as well, because God knew the fatigue in her body went beyond exhaustion.
It was just after 8 p.m. She imagined that the sun would just be setting. As she studied him, she felt the need for some serious answers from someone. She wondered again who these people were and where she was exactly. She looked around and noticed there weren’t any windows in the place, which was understandable as they were underground judging by the elevator ride in the downward direction. Who lived in a place that didn’t have windows? A few things went through her mind. First, people who had some type of allergy to sunlight, but all of them had been out in the sun, so she could rule that one out. Maybe there was another person in the house she hadn’t met yet. She tried to think of other reasons why people would live in a place without windows and could come up with none.
Vampires?
She scoffed at herself for thinking something so ridiculous, but after a minute she really thought about it. She had seen them all out in the sun. From what she understood of vampire mythology, they melted or burst into flames when faced with UV rays. And even if they were some special hybrid vampire or something, none of them had tried to drink her blood.
In fact, they ate lasagna.
Besides, vampires didn’t exist.
Rayner had given somewhat of an indication that they were in a military facility, but none of them gave off a military vibe. There weren’t any uniforms, although Noah seemed to be the one reluctantly in charge. They were all actually very laid back, yet there was an undercurrent of…purpose. Like there was a definite reason for them to be here, together.
She sighed and snuggled down into the chair, still staring at her patient. After being stripped of her medical license, she never thought she would have a patient again, and she found herself enjoying the role, feeling like she had purpose. What her purpose would be in the future, she had no idea.
One thing she did know in this whole mess was that Hudson had lied to Noah. Saying he was proficient at lying was like saying tomorrow the sky would be green. He was a lousy liar. She should know—she had become a very skilled liar while she was doing drugs, and she could spot a weak one a mile away.
She had heard him tell Noah that someone—this…Colonist—had gotten the best of him while wielding a Taser gun. She believed that. But Hudson’s body language had indicated that he was also hiding something. His cheeks flushed as he spoke, and the rate his eyes were blinking increased. He also had a hard time meeting Noah’s eyes, and she wondered what secret Hudson was keeping.
Secrets. Everyone had their secrets they kept tight to their chest, things they didn’t want others to know, things that were shameful to them.
That brought up memories of when she had finally run out of pain pills, and her dismissal from the hospital.
She had been completely out of pills for a day, and the only thing she could think about was how to get more. She knew none of her colleagues would write a prescription. Asking would be awkward at best, as she had isolated herself so much, and it would also raise a red flag. She had been back at work for two months, and medically there wasn’t a need for pain pills.
She went to the pharmacy and began to chat up the technician, asking about a new drug she had seen a memo on this morning, and she was able to talk her way into the back where the drugs were kept.
Scanning the shelves, she read the bottle labels looking for any type of pain pill: Percocet, Vicodin, Codeine—it didn’t matter. She began to sweat, and her hands were shaky. As she half listened to the technician talk about the new drug, tears welled in her eyes, because she didn’t see how she was going to be able to get to the Percocet she had found about five feet away.
Suddenly the phone rang, and the technician excused himself. It’s now or never, Bev.
She quietly stepped over to the bottle, surprised the pills weren’t rattling with how badly she was shaking.
As she dumped some into her hand and then into her pocket, she didn’t hear the technician come back around the corner.
“What are you doing?” he had asked quietly, as she stuffed a second handful of pills into her pocket.
Surprised, she gasped and dropped the bottle, pills scattering everywhere like white droplets of rain.
The technician didn’t say anything for a moment, just stared at her. “I’m going to have to report this, doctor.”
She thought about getting upset and trying to intimidate him by yelling and asking him who he thought he was, but she didn’t have it in her. Her shoulders slumped forward, defeat rolling through her. She knew the consequences for stealing from the pharmacy. She would lose her medical license and possibly be prosecuted.
When security arrived, she had emptied her pockets of every pill except four that she had shoved in her shoe. If she ever needed a pill, it was now. An hour later, she sat in front of the hospital director, Jason Brenner, and looked at the space just over his shoulder as he told her he would be letting her go, making sure her license was revoked, but he wouldn’t prosecute her as long as she got help. He then took out a list of rehab places in the area and told her to pick one and make the
phone call. If he didn’t have proof she was in rehab in forty-eight hours, he would file charges.
“Off the record, Beverly, why in the world didn’t you come to me? Why didn’t you get help?” he had asked.
She let her eyes meet Jason’s. They had met a couple of times at hospital functions and meetings and had always been friendly. Beverly was sure that this quasi-friendship was the only reason he was letting her off easy.
And she didn’t have an answer for him, so she just shrugged. She stood, took the paper with the rehab listings, went home, and made the call.
She thought of the bed Noah had said was one floor down, but simply didn’t have the energy to get up from the chair, make it to the elevator, and push a button. Working really hard to harness said energy to do that, her eyes began to close, and she realized she was going to fail miserably. She gave in to the deep sleep she so desperately needed.
Chapter 15
Hudson awoke the next morning to the sound of running water and soft humming. It was a pretty sound, and he wondered where it was coming from. Maybe he had made it to Heaven, and he would open his eyes to find himself next to a beautiful waterfall with a little water nymph bathing in it.
Then it all came flooding back to him like he was standing in front of crumbling dam, the memories washing over him. The hotel. The Colonist. The torture. And…Beverly. He opened his eyes and looked around the room, remembering how sick he had been, and realized that Beverly must have never made it back to her room. He checked the clock to make sure it was on the sunny side of time. His clock said nine, his internal clock let him know it was morning, so the sun had been up for hours. He imagined it was a hundred degrees outside by this time, and he couldn’t wait to get the damn contacts out of his eyes.
Man, he had been sick, which pissed him off because he really enjoyed that Vicodin. However, the short time of numbness definitely wasn’t worth the consequences he had suffered.
He thought of the way Bev had taken care of him, the way she had soothed him. He had found her touch a comfort he hadn’t felt in…well, ever. Yes, Iris had comforted him, but their relationship had been so short. In the time he had been with Beverly, he had experienced more with her than he had with Iris. He had met her forty-eight hours ago, and she had been his doctor, the object of his desire, and his comforter while he puked his guts out. While she stroked his back and hair, the agony on both the inside and outside began to subside just a bit. She eased him just by her close presence. Perhaps tragedy and drama really did bring people together in ways they never would have imagined.
He pulled back the comforter and looked at his chest. What a mess. Black and blue bruises mixed in with the red welts of stitches. He hoped Cohen made it home soon. He was in desperate need of a good SR44 healing.
He gingerly lifted his torso off the bed to a sitting position and threw his legs over the side, letting out a few ripe curses and began to breathe heavily. Concentrating on staying horizontal, he didn’t hear Bev come into the room.
“Hudson!” she said, rushing over to him. He looked up as she made her way from the bathroom to him, and he forgot about his pain for a moment. He actually forgot about everything, because he was simply struck stupid by what he was seeing.
Bev had wrapped her hair in a black towel, and his black silk robe was wrapped around her body. The damn thing swirled around her, far too big, but revealing enough to show the outline of taunt breasts and a small waist without much in the hips department. With every confident step she took, he thought he was going to get a glimpse of a thigh, but it never emerged. The black made her unmarked porcelain skin stand out. Her cheeks were pink from the heat of the shower. If he had thought she was pretty before…well, now she simply took his breath away.
“Are you okay? Are you going to be sick again?”
She sat down next to him and put her hand on his back. It was cool on his skin, but it might as well have been a hot branding iron.
Their eyes locked.
Just like at the bar, her piercing green stare saw through the charade he had carefully constructed, and she knew the lies he had told.
He studied her face. Goddammit, she was what they described as a classic beauty. Smooth porcelain skin. High cheekbones. Full lips. There wasn’t a flaw anywhere on her face that he could see. She sat with her back ramrod straight, her shoulders pushed back, her chin lifted. He was reminded of pictures of royalty, except they all tended to look like they had a broomstick stuck up their asses and attached to their spines. For Beverly, the way she carried herself was natural.
Women like her had never held an interest for him. He always went for the ones with a bit of a hard edge. The party girls. Hell, he’d been with hookers many, many times. He had always felt that women like Beverly deserved more than he could offer. The others were simply looking for a body or to get paid. Of course, he would love nothing more than to have such a woman, but all he could give her would be a night of nothing but fucking, maybe some cuffs or a blindfold to fulfill an erotic fantasy. He didn’t have much else. Perhaps an omelet in the morning, but there wasn’t much more to the what-can-Hudson-give-a-woman list.
However, as Beverly stared him down, he felt the electric sexual attraction between them, a force onto itself. She wanted him, and he knew he wanted her as he speculated about what was going on in his boxers, which was pretty messed up considering he could barely move.
He thought about his bloody, swollen lip and how much he wanted to kiss her. Maybe, just maybe after Cohen got back, he would…
No, he didn’t want this.
But maybe he did.
But then her hand came up and gently touched the side of his face, her fingers tracing through his hair.
This was some kind of fucked-up spell. He actually wondered if she was a witch. Why couldn’t he look away? Why couldn’t he disengage from this…thing passing between them?
A loud knock on the door had her flying off the bed to the middle of the room, and he felt himself exhale. He took a deep breath and rubbed his hand over his face. “What?” he bit out.
“Can you get up yet?” Noah said through the thick wood. “I want to do a de-brief on you before lunch.”
Hudson looked at Bev. She stood in the middle of the room looking at him as if he had just grown an extra head, with her arms crossed over her chest, her hand up to her mouth.
Apparently, she had been under some spell as well, because she looked as though she regretted her actions, even though nothing had happened between them. She was his doctor until Cohen got home.
End. Of. Story.
“Yeah, I’m sort of mobile. I’ll be up in about twenty. I want to get a shower.”
There was silence for a moment, then Noah asked, “You got the doc in there with you? I just went down to see if she wanted breakfast and she wasn’t there, but the door was locked.”
Hudson thought of what would be the best answer for Bev. He didn’t want to say that she had spent the night because Noah would immediately think he had bedded her. Then he would go flapping his jaws to everyone in the house. Hudson wasn’t worried about what they would all think about him, as his reputation as a slut had been earned and blazed in stone. However, he would not allow even a shadow of his reputation to be cast on Bev. This was one lie he could deliver with ease. “Yeah, she’s in here. She just got here a little while ago to check on me.”
“Okay, man. See you in a bit.”
Throughout the whole conversation, they had continued to stare at each other.
“You okay, Bev?” he asked quietly.
She broke their stare and looked around the room, not meeting his eyes. “Yes. I’m fine.”
He needed space from her. He would not allow her to be involved with a train wreck in action. She was too beautiful, too kind, too important, and too good. No, she simply couldn’t get wrapped up in the mind fuck that was his life.
Space. He needed space, which meant he needed her gone. That would be first and foremost on his list o
f things to do. Then he remembered the peace that she had brought him, and how good it had felt.
Damn it He wanted her gone, but he wanted her to stay. He closed his eyes and shook his head. Like he needed another war brewing within him.
She needed to go.
It was for her own good, because the less she knew about him and his fellow Warriors, the better. The longer she hung out here, the bigger the chance was that she would see, hear, or find something that would out him and the other Warriors as not quite human. In fact, he would talk to Noah about a plan of action for her to go today.
But first, he needed a shower.
Chapter 16
Beverly stood in the middle of the room watching Hudson slowly make his way to the bathroom. She wanted to help him, but she didn’t trust herself not to run across the room and throw herself at him.
Oh my. The visions of him having sex with that woman kept replaying in her mind, except it was her who he hovered over, who he thrust into. It was her in those handcuffs, and the fantasy continued from there. Chairs. Couches. On top. From behind. Apparently, she had some inner nymphomaniac that she wasn’t aware of lurking below the surface, who had decided it was time to come out and play. Sure, her love life had been practically non-existent, but it wasn't something that she really gave much thought about. Now, watching him make his way across the room, she wondered what she had been missing out on her whole adult life.
She never felt this excited or felt more like a woman than she did when she thought of being with Hudson. Her mind reeled at what he would do to her body, the pleasures he would bring, if she let him. The heat in his eyes was obvious, as was the erection he tried to hide under the sheet as he made his way to the bathroom.
Looking around the room, she heard the running water of the shower. She had seen almost all of Hudson as she stitched him up, and she had seen all of him that night in the hotel when she watched him having sex. His chest was smooth and large, his stomach tight and slim. His legs were long and muscular.