Chapter 7 #2
"Maybe they should be revived," I suggest. "The ice pops are already proving effective."
He's silent for a moment, studying the page with intense concentration. Then he straightens and looks at me directly, his ice-blue eyes warmer than I've ever seen them. It’s almost like they glow from within.
Suddenly, I’m acutely aware of how nonhuman he is. His features are too angular, too fine to be human. His long ears extend on the sides of his head, accentuating the intimidating perfection of his face.
"This is excellent work, Maeve," he says, and the use of my first name without hesitation makes something flutter in my chest. "I'm impressed by your research initiative."
The compliment catches me off guard.
"Thank you," I manage, suddenly aware of how close we're standing. "I thought it was worth exploring all options."
"It absolutely was." His voice has dropped lower, the usual detachment replaced by something that sounds almost intimate.
For a moment, Dr. Lorian Reizenhart—aloof, arrogant, impossibly proper—looks at me as if he sees nothing else in the whole world. My heart hammers dangerously in my chest and I find myself licking my lower lip.
Those piercing blue eyes latch on my mouth, and I struggle to think.
"I've been thinking," he continues, still standing close enough that I can see flecks of darker blue in his irises. "Perhaps we should coordinate our efforts more directly. Your practical experience with the children complements my medical expertise."
"I'd like that," I breathe out, unable to look away from his face. Has he always had that small scar above his right eyebrow? The barely perceptible dimple that appears when his mouth relaxes from its usual stern line?
The air between us feels charged, heavy. My heart pounds so loudly I'm certain he must hear it. His gaze drops briefly to my lips, then back to my eyes.
"Maeve," he says, my name sounding different in his mouth now, almost like a caress.
What happens next occurs in slow motion, like in a movie. Lorian leans forward, his hand coming up to cup my cheek with surprising gentleness. And then his lips are on mine, soft and questioning.
For a heartbeat, I'm too shocked to respond.
Then instinct takes over and I lean into the kiss, my hands finding their way to his chest. His heart races under my palm.
The kiss deepens, his arm sliding around my waist to pull me closer.
Heat spreads through my body, and I make a small sound in the back of my throat that seems to encourage him further.
My hands slide up his chest, feeling the surprising firmness beneath his pristine shirt.
Who knew the uptight doctor was hiding such a muscular frame?
I trail my fingers higher, finally reaching his face, then tangle them in his silky blond hair.
My fingertips trail the length of his pointed ear and he shudders with a guttural, male sound that turns my knees into jelly.
The perfect ponytail comes loose under my eager touch, and his hair cascades around us like a silver-gold curtain.
I push against his hips, molding my entire body to his front.
Lorian responds with a growl that vibrates through his chest and into mine.
His controlled demeanor fractures completely as his hands slide down my back, gripping my backside with possessive heat that makes me gasp against his mouth.
He pulls me even closer, eliminating any space between us, and I feel the hard length of him pressing against my stomach.
The contact sends a jolt of desire so intense through me that I whimper.
"Maeve," he murmurs against my lips, my name transformed into something primal and desperate in his mouth. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of my ass, kneading with an almost savage intensity that makes my knees weak.
This can't be happening. I'm kissing Dr. Reizenhart. The uptight, arrogant, infuriatingly handsome elf doctor who made children cry with talk of vegetable-related mortality. And it feels absolutely right.
A sharp knock at the door shatters the moment.
We spring apart just as Mrs. Beckham pokes her head in.
"Dr. Reizenhart, I'm heading out for the day."
Her eyes widen slightly as she takes in the scene. My flushed face, Lorian's slightly disheveled appearance, the way we're standing just a bit too far apart now, as if overcorrecting.
"Thank you, Mrs. Beckham," Lorian says, his voice just a tad higher pitched than his usual clipped professionalism. "I'll see you tomorrow."
She nods, her gaze lingering on us for a moment longer before she withdraws, closing the door behind her.
The spell is broken. Lorian straightens his already immaculate tie and steps back, putting more distance between us. His face shutters, the warmth vanishing as quickly as it appeared. His shoulders tense and his jaw tightens, that perfect elven posture returning like armor sliding into place.
I feel the loss of his closeness like a physical thing, a sudden chill where moments ago there was only heat.
My skin still tingles where his fingers brushed against me, and I have to resist the urge to touch the spot, to preserve the sensation.
The abrupt shift in his demeanor stings more than it should, and I find myself missing the brief glimpse of the man beneath all that professional reserve.
"Thank you for bringing this research to my attention, Nurse Maeve," he says formally. My name on his lips doesn't have the same heat this time around. "Let's reconvene tomorrow to prepare the tonic. We should plan enough for the entire school."
The abrupt shift in his attitude feels like a slap. Nurse Maeve, not just Maeve. Professional distance restored with surgical precision.
"Right," I say, gathering the book, my hands not quite steady. "I should go. I have a lot of ingredients to gather if we're going to brew a large batch."
He nods, already moving back behind his desk. It's like he needs a physical barrier between us.
"Good night, then."
I want to say something about the kiss, about what this means between us, about the hurt blooming in my chest, but the words stick in my throat. Instead, I nod and move toward the door.
"Good night, Dr. Reizenhart," I manage, my voice mercifully steady despite the chaos inside me.
I don't wait for his response before slipping out, closing the door quietly behind me. In the hallway, I pause, pressing my fingers to my lips where I can still feel the warmth of his kiss.
What just happened? And why do I feel like I've just experienced both the beginning and end of something significant in the span of five minutes?