7. Thalia
Chapter seven
Thalia
Ineed to get out of here before the local authorities begin searching for witnesses.
Per my last conversation with my oldest brother, Rowan, I’ve got about another two days before the cops are banging on my hospital door.
Well, I call it a conversation. It was more like Rowan was in a screaming match with a brick wall as I spaced out and started counting the tiles on the ceiling.
Congrats to the brick wall for winning the war on Rowan.
If it were any other situation, I would have left the moment I woke up. But…
Dr. Dreamy has fully dicknotized me. I mean, come on! It should be illegal to look that good, be extremely intelligent, and have massive equipment! Not to mention the pain he took pleasure in…
I’m a sadist who enjoys blood play, but it’s extremely hard to find a partner who also shares in the act. They either can’t handle my extreme tendencies, or they’re a fucking backstabbing hick who shot me in the shoulder.
But then there’s that tiny grey area between those two extremes that most people wouldn’t dare touch–the area designated for someone like Reed.
Seeing the surprise in his eyes as I sliced into his thigh, and then feeling his whole body shudder from the wound I inflicted on him had me aching for more.
I’m only disappointed I didn’t get to slide my tongue up his muscular thigh, collecting the thick, red essence trickling from his cut.
That could have earned me another glorious round of rough treatment from the doctor, but instead, I was left wet with arousal in the supply closet.
I know he’s probably riding the ‘I took advantage of an innocent patient’ train, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. He could be losing his mind right now, and all I can think about is how to get him alone.
My eyes flicker to the bedside clock, a smirk pulling at the corner of my lips as the time rolls over to nine o’clock.
Shift change. The nighttime nurses are way more relaxed than the daytime staff.
My nurse, a young guy who seems fresh out of college, is a major himbo–no thoughts behind those dazzling green eyes of his.
He’s a bit muscular and carries around a half-full Blender bottle of some protein concoction he guzzles before his first hour on shift has even begun. I think his name is Henry…
I’ve been so distracted by Dr. Dreamy that I can’t even remember the name of the man who lets me do whatever I please during the nighttime. But my dear friend, Henry, is going to be my ticket to the very man I can’t seem to stop thinking about.
I crawl out of my bed, stretching out my back as I snatch the IV pole and wheel myself up to the nurse’s station. Just as I speculated, Henry is seated at his usual post, his elbow lifted as he gulps back his protein shake and types in his password to the desktop before him.
I slide up to him, folding my arms on the counter as I peer through the glass. “Hey, Henry!”
His eyes shift to me before he lowers his drink. “Neil. My name is Neil. How many times do I have to tell you that?”
I wave a hand. “Yeah, same thing–”
“No, it isn’t.”
“Listen, I need a favor.” I bat my eyelashes, really laying on the Kingsley charm.
If my two dumbass brothers can bag baddies with their obsessive and overly protective ways, then I can seduce the nurse staff into giving me Dr. Dreamy’s address without them knowing.
“My phone died and I really need to message someone. Can I borrow yours? Just so I can log into my Instagram. Pleeeease.”
Henry–fuck–Neil hums, his eyes squinting. “You’re only going to log into your social, right? No funny business?”
I brace an aghast hand over my chest, my mouth falling open in faux shock. “I would never.”
He sighs before digging his phone out of his pocket and sliding it through the crack of the counter and the glass. “Make it quick.”
I snatch it up, immediately clicking on a social media app that every man in his thirties has before typing Reed Bellamy into the search bar.
A profile pops up, and it’s Dr. Dreamy smiling with the Los Angeles skyline behind him.
He’s so fucking handsome with his dark curls and his warm, deep-toned skin that catches the light like polished bronze.
Even his grin is infectious with its easy, unforced charm.
It lifts his face, giving his jaw a subtle sharpening as the hint of dimples pokes into his cheeks.
I’m completely in awe of the photo, staring at it with a slackened jaw.
I screenshot it before sending it to my number and deleting the conversation from Neil’s inbox.
I begin flicking through Reed’s recent pictures, mostly getting caught up in staring at him rather than focusing on the task at hand until I come across one post from a few days ago.
He’s seated at a bar with the other doctor I met a few days ago and another woman.
They’re smiling at the camera, and by the matching wedding sets on both women’s fingers, I can use basic comprehension skills to tell that they’re obviously married.
But that isn’t what I hyper-focus on. My eyes zone in on Reed’s keychain resting on the bar, and I use my thumbs to blow the picture up until I can make out the written address on it.
I commit it to memory before closing out of everything and shoving the phone back to Neil. “Thanks a bunch, bestie! I need to go for a smoke break. Can I get my IV out?”
He deadpans at me. “No. We’ve been over this.”
I interlace my fingers, pleading with him. “Please! I’m hydrated enough to last me forever, dude. Just for my smoke break! I’ll be quick.”
Yeah, right.
He pinches the bridge of his nose before looking behind him at the three other nurses on staff.
One is flicking through charts with her back turned to us as another spins in his chair and stares up at the ceiling.
The last healthcare professional is drumming her fingers on her desk out of boredom as she stares off into space.
“Let me check your vitals, and as long as everything is good, I’ll remove the IV,” Neil says as he stands. “Give me a minute to check on another patient.”
“Of course!” I watch with bated breath as he slips into a room before ducking off into the supply closet.
I grab a syringe before sneaking back out to the nurses’ station.
Charlotte, my daytime nurse, has had a steady order of that magical sleep drug on standby for me in case I decided to get ‘combative.’
Whatever that means.
But the vial is sitting nice and pretty on Neil’s desk next to my paperwork.
I creep it into the pocket of my hospital gown before slipping back into my room and waiting for my friend.
It doesn’t take long for Gym Bro to sweep right in with his little machine on wheels.
He checks my blood pressure and temperature before typing everything into his computer and instructing me to lie back while he removes the IV.
“I put that you’re stable enough to forgo the drip in your chart. Don’t abuse your power.” He smirks as he packs his kit up.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I grin back at him as he leaves. Once the coast is clear, I shoot out of bed and race towards the elevator.
Fuck a smoke break.
I have bigger fish to fry.
I jam my finger on the button, waiting patiently as a draft creeps into the back of my gown. My mouth twists as I realize I’m clothesless and pantiles under the hospital-issued wear.
That’s bound to raise suspicion.
Nothing a little five-finger discount can’t solve.
Two hours later and I’m climbing up the fire escape of the Reeds’ apartment building in a fresh new pair of black fishnet stockings, combat boots, and a lace-trimmed black corset dress I snagged off a mannequin at the local mall.
Don’t ask me how I did it.
Okay, I may have broken into the employee entrance, set off the alarms, and grabbed the first thing I saw. I was rushed for time, and it was cute.
I hum lightly to myself as I test the window of the unit I know belongs to Reed, finding that it’s locked. Naturally.
I pull a bobby pin out of my pocket before sliding it between the seal, biting my bottom lip as I concentrate and try to pop the lock.
When it finally slides, I squeeze my fingers through the crack and lift it slowly.
The apartment is dark as I clamber through the window, trying to keep myself quiet as I ease into the living room.
The scene is cozy and minimalistic with a brand-new neutral-toned sofa and matching recliner.
There’s a basic round coffee table with glass covering the top, and a few medical journals rest neatly stacked in the center.
Towards the edge, there’s a book that was left open, facing down as if Reed means to pick it back up the moment he wakes.
The kitchen is clean and sparkling, and the countertops are cleared of any signs that someone even lives here.
Okay. He’s definitely a neat freak.
I shouldn’t find that adorable.
And I shouldn’t be itching to leave a mess just to fuck with him…
I smirk as I skip over to the coffee table and run my fingers over the book that’s open. “What are you reading, Dr. Dreamy?”
I flip it over, plopping down onto his sofa as my eyes skim the first paragraph.
…Clara didn’t know what it was that was attracting her so intensely to Dax.
Maybe it was the way he wielded the surgical knife over her pale, slender neck with anticipation and slow strokes that bit into her flesh with every pass.
Maybe it was the darkness in his eyes that matched her own depraved and sick ways that had her pulse fluttering impossibly fast. Or maybe it was the way he was wrapping her thin fingers around the knife’s handle with a whispered plea.
“Sink the blade into my skin, Amore. Make me bleed for you.”
“Holy shit…” I muse with wide eyes as I flip the page and continue with the steamy, bloodlust-induced scene.
Clara grips the knife with shaky hands, her bottom lip trembling as arousal sweeps through her. “Dax—”