Medicine Man (Page 48)

“Thank you. It’s, uh, Harry Potter,” I say lamely, like I did the first time I chatted with him in the hallway. As if I want to talk about fiction and magic, instead of begging him to ease the pain in my tits.

He knows what I’m thinking. He has to. Something flashes on his face. Something carnal, and I have to cross my arms at my back so I don’t touch him. I wish I had pockets too.

“I know.”

I bite my lip. “I slept well. Last night, I mean. Like a baby.”

“I’m glad meds are doing their job. Besides, you are a baby.” His voice is filled with barely leashed frustration.

I’m not a baby. Or a little child. Or his responsibility. Though weirdly, it makes me all horny that he thinks so. What he doesn’t know is that this baby is really a snow princess who’s going to slay his dragons.

Deciding to let it go, I narrow my eyes at him. “Last night was risky.”

His nostrils flare. “That’s why it won’t happen again.”

Boom, boom, boom.

That’s my heart, matching the thunder last night.

“It shouldn’t,” I agree with him. “There’s a line between us.”

“There is.”

“I’m… kind of defective and you’re kind of not.”

He takes a step closer to me and it’s very hard for me to simply stand there and not take a step closer to him. He leans his head toward me and I become hyperaware of the surroundings. Is it intimate-looking, the way he’s paying me all this attention?

But for the life of me, I can’t move away from him. I can’t bear to sever this connection, even if it’s in the light of day and people surround us on all sides.

“Let’s get one thing very clear,” he says in a low but intense voice. “There’s a line between us, Willow. But it has nothing to do with your supposed defectiveness. You got that? There is nothing defective about you. Am I clear?”

My legs tremble, shake.

They shake like I’m in the middle of an earthquake. Like the one I had last night in his arms. I feel a flood of emotions, so many jumbled emotions that I don’t know what to do with.

The only thing that makes sense to me right now is the fact that I love him.

I love this man.

I look at the sculpted line of his jaw, wanting to kiss his stubble, but knowing that I can’t. “Yes.”

“Good.” He takes a step back. “I want you to focus on your treatment and nothing else.”

“And will you focus on treating me?”

“That’s my job, yes.”

“I don’t want you to lose it. If…” I trail off, since we’re out here and I can’t really say what I want to say.

His face becomes blank. “Why don’t you let me worry about it? Besides, there’s no if. Because as I said, it won’t happen again.”

I stare into his eyes, trying to read if he means it. Logically, rationally, he should mean it. If we get caught, things could end very badly. For him. I don’t want him to lose something he’s so passionate about.

It could end badly for me, too. Although I don’t care about myself as much. I wouldn’t care if they locked me up and put me in chains, for wanting something I shouldn’t want.

It’s startling, that revelation.

I’ve hated being sent here. Hated. And now, I wouldn’t mind living here, in captivity, as long as he wants me back.

Nodding, I say, “Okay.”

“I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

We are. His eyes say so. But why does it feel like the page we’re on is not the page we’re supposed to be on?

I should go have breakfast now. I see everyone going into the room, throwing us glances. But I can’t make myself move. Not when he’s watching me like this. Like he’ll stand here for as long as I will.

Like what happened last night is going to happen again.

“It’s a good day, don’t you think?” I murmur.

He looks at me suspiciously. “A good day for what?”

I can’t stop myself from smiling then. “Poker.”

The look he gives me is scorching. I see him tightening his fists inside his pockets. “Poker.”

“Uh-huh.” I nod, tightening my own arms at my back because I so want to ruffle his hair right now. Or maybe crease his neatly-pressed shirt. “You should come play with us, Dr. Blackwood.”

“Who’s us?”

Sometime last night, I dreamed of Simon being jealous of every other man I come in contact with. It was weird and exaggerated. I mean, he won’t be jealous of every man, will he?

Looking at him, I can’t say for sure. “Uh, a bunch of people. Renn and the girls. Tristan.”

“Right.” His mouth tips up in a hard, lopsided smile. “You know, I’d be very careful about who you play with.”

“Why’s that?”

“It might piss me off.”

“Then come play with us. Or you know, just watch.”

His eyes flare dangerously, and my breath hiccups. I still can’t believe that he’s been watching me. Like a beast roaming inside the castle. My lonely ice king.

“You shouldn’t be so uptight, you know. And perfect. In fact,” I say, my voice all breathy and my chest almost heaving with all the sensations. “I think you’ll like how free the people are on the other side.”

“What side is that?” he asks at last, in a soft voice and awareness in his eyes.

“The side where craziness lives. And I’m not talking about the useless kind.”

Simon studies me with a clamped jaw before nodding and stepping back. “Well, you have a good day, and for your sake, I hope you don’t play poker.”

I played poker.

But I’m not very good at it. So, I kinda lost. I’m up to about twelve thousand in debt, that I have to pay when I get out of here next week. We’re all very heavy betters here at Heartstone.

I’m in my bed, sitting in the exact same position, drawing shapes on the window. It’s raining again. Heavy and loud, masking every other sound but the sound of the sky falling.

The night nurse just peeked in through the window and I was pretending to be asleep. It’s midnight and there’s exactly fifty-three minutes till another hourly check. He’s three minutes later than yesterday.

Like last night, I sense when the door of my room opens and he enters.

Immediately, I’m up on my feet. The floorboards creak, but tonight, I’m a little calmer about it. I shouldn’t be, though. It’s dangerous.

“You’re late,” I whisper as I take in his form, dark and tall. Kind of menacing, but kind of not.

Tonight, the darkness doesn’t seem so dark. I’m more adjusted to it. I can see the messed-up strands of his hair, the look in his eyes and the wet splotches on his shirt as he walks closer to me.

“You should be sleeping right now,” he says, gruffly.

“You should be too.”

“Insomnia can exacerbate your condition, Willow,” he informs me.

I almost pout. “As far as I know, you also have trouble falling asleep.”

“We’re not talking about me. And I’m not the one with a Major Depressive Disorder.”

Okay, enough.

I don’t want to fight when there are other issues at stake.

“Why are you wet?” I reach out and catch the stray droplets on his throat with my finger.