3. Alaric #2
Nowhere. That’s the conclusion I come to. Not as a patient, not outside of work, either.
A woman like her is impossible to forget.
Both she and the moral dilemma she stirs within me.
On the one hand, I’m dying to ask her out. On the other, I feel obligated to spare a woman as sweet and innocent-looking as her from ending up with a murderer.
And since I’ve never been this conflicted, or this pulled toward anyone in my life, it has to mean she’s a stranger.
Her small wave snaps me out of whatever my mind has wandered into, and I scowl at myself, at the loss of focus.
As if she finds my expression and weighted silence charming, her smile widens. “Good evening.”
Even her teeth are perfect. Pearly white—and no, that’s not right. She has an implant in the back.
As I start connecting the dots, a muscle in my jaw tics.
My temples throb.
The sad eyes. The bump on her nose. That tooth.
Someone hurt her.
Who?
I’d ask her if I could, demand an answer, except it would just confirm I’m a fucking creep. I’d be out of her life before I even get to say hello.
Which is why all I say is, “Hello.”
“How can I help you?”
Give me your number. Go out with me.
Date a murderer.
“One small coffee to go. Black.”
“Got it.”
As soon as she starts typing my order, my jaw clenches, teeth grinding. I shouldn't be hard, goddammit, but I can't stop it, not when her teeth graze her plump bottom lip, the one I want to sink my teeth into.
Oblivious to my intense staring, she smiles at me once she’s done. “Anything else?”
You.
“No, thank you.”
“You sure?” Her voice is sultry. Tempting. “Sir?”
Where have I met her?
This instinct that’s pulling me toward her—Lilith, according to the name tag pinned to her apron—is driving me insane.
I should let her go.
My mind refuses to listen.
My hands are just as stubborn. On its own, one of them threatens to rise. My fingertips twitch with the desire to stroke her cheek. Trace the little bump on her nose.
I want—no, need—to reveal all her secrets.
Then what? Taint her with yours?
A sour taste floods my mouth. I swallow. Nod. “Just coffee.”
“Alrighty then.”
Another tap on the screen, then the terminal lights up in front of me.
“Oh.” Her eyebrows pinch after I pay with my phone. Color blooms over her cheeks, and I decide I like it on her. “That’s, um…that’s a really big tip.”
Yes, I know. Five hundred dollars for a cup of coffee is over the top.
But she has no idea how much I’m holding back. We’ve just met, and I already want to give her so much more. Gifts. Money. Dates at fancy restaurants.
I would let her have everything.
The problem is, I would become part of her life.
So, for her sake, I leave it at the tip.
“It’s nothing.”
“Thank you anyway, mister…” She dips her chin, waiting for me to fill in.
“Alaric.” I don’t add Doctor. Don’t feel like my title belongs here. With her, I’m simply me. “And you’re welcome, Lilith.”
“You—” Her face blanches, but she doesn’t finish the sentence. She lets out a light chuckle, her delicate fingers flying to her name tag. “Right. Of course.”
Trying not to embarrass her further, I offer a polite smile and shut the hell up.
Lilith, however, as flushed as she is, doesn’t turn away or busy herself with anything but…
Me.
And I, a sick motherfucker, can’t help but wonder… Would she look at me like that if I told her to kneel? Would tears line those beautiful blues when I used that pretty mouth?
Can’t happen. Ever.
I can’t even think these things, can’t get hard in the cafeteria, in plain sight.
Cursing, I cut my gaze away from her and look at the younger woman on the other side of the counter. A blonde who pours scorching coffee into a small takeaway cup.
At that, a pang of disappointment jabs my chest.
Lilith won’t be the one handing me my order.
Ridiculous. I shouldn’t wish for that.
I shouldn’t touch her.
“Lil.” The blonde—Hope, according to her name tag—nudges Lilith’s shoulder. “His coffee’s ready.”
“Thank you.” Lilith turns to grab it, then holds it out for me.
It doesn’t go unnoticed that Hope avoids any kind of interaction with me. For a beat, I wonder if I did something wrong.
Guess not, since she just whistles and walks off to arrange the shelves like nothing happened.
“Alaric.” My name from Lilith’s mouth, fuck me.
“Yes?”
She gives the cup a little shake, her fingers wrapped around the coffee sleeve. “Your order.”
“Right.”
But I don’t reach for it.
Not yet.
While I still have an excuse, I stay rooted in place, soaking up every inch of her. Inhaling her sweet scent. Cataloging each breath she takes and the blush creeping up her throat.
I indulge in her presence, knowing that this, right here, is as close as I can ever get to Lilith.
Should, anyway.
Someone clears their throat behind me.
“Sorry,” I murmur, though I’m not sorry in the slightest.
Lilith winks, but doesn’t slide over the cup to speed things up.
It’s as if she wants me to touch her.
I.
Shouldn’t.
Fuck it.
I reach out, my fingers brushing hers over the cup. Heat surges through my chest. My hand burns where our skin meets.
I’m this close to hurling the cup across the room, slinging Lilith over my shoulder, and storming out of here.
We could disappear.
Then I’d become this person I’m not, one who lets abusers roam the streets, consequence-free.
Yeah…not going to happen.
“Thank you,” I say through clenched teeth.
“You’re welcome.” She doesn’t seem to mind my surly attitude. In fact, she’s blushing harder for it.
I have to get away, or I’ll really do something I’ll regret.
Without another word, I spin on my heel and stalk out of the cafeteria. Out of the hospital.
Sadly, the fresh air doesn’t taste sweet.
Not at fucking all.
It tastes stale.
Bland.
Like a missed opportunity.