Page 10 of Hart's Redemption

She eyed the monitor, keeping close tabs on my vitals, more specifically my heart rate. “If you cannot control your agitation, I will have no choice but to administer a sedative.”

My lip finally curled, but I curtailed another growl from slipping out.

Satisfied that her threat had been received, she returned to her inspection of my blood work. “Findings remain consistent that you are afflicted with Mien Zeke. Per yourpartner’sinsistence, the treatment for said condition has not been administered.”

“Just as well, seeing as how even the tiniest dose of that treatment would prove fatal to me.”

“There are no genetic markers to indicate such an extreme reaction. Your abnormality is no more distinguished than any other case, despite its obvious severity.”

I barely held a growl in check, though my nails scraped across the flimsy table with a horrible screech. “Have you bothered to test the treatment on any of the countless samples you insist on taking?”

Her lips pursed into a thin line, answering my question. “Your medical plan has certain stipulations. The priority of which requires that you ‌be treated by the premier physician on staff. I am doing my job.”

And yet, she never once attempted to treat me while I’d been in wolf form. That responsibility had fallen solely to the young,determined Dr. Lyons. My recollection of that time consisted mostly of blurs and days running into nights, but what I didn’t know, the wolf did. He knew a lot of things. The added layer of instincts and perceptions that assaulted me was, in a word, unnerving.

Dr. Florence continued to stare at me as if awaiting another argument. While it was incredibly tempting to point out that my exceptionally comprehensive plan also dictated that if I died on her watch, her grandchildren’s grandchildren would be dealing with malpractice suits, I opted to let it drop. The sooner I could leave this sterile hell, the better.

With a huff, I turned my attention to the observation window lining the lab. My gaze instantly zeroed in on Elijah.

How long has he been there?

He stood deep in conversation with Dr. Lyons, animatedly talking with his hands while she nodded along and offered the occasional silent response. The tension from the conversation with Dr. Florence evaporated as my hungry gaze picked out every detail I’d been denied the last seven days.

His gray hair had gotten longer, his typical bun absent. The tightness around his eyes spoke of exhaustion, and even from ten yards away his shoulders were noticeably tense. Despite all of that, Elijah Bennett was still heart-stoppingly beautiful. Those same tense shoulders were broad and well-defined. His strong jaw darkened with scruff. Expressive cognac eyes caught the light and flashed yellow. His tongue darted out to wet his lips.

Every cell in my body screamed at me to do the same. My fingers itched to run across the smooth definition of his stomach, heat pooling at each tip and seeping into me. Carding those same fingers through his glorious hair. My mouth watered at the mere thought of capturing those delectable lips with fervent kisses.

Blood roared in my ears as he moaned. It wrapped around my core as I tightened my legs around him. His hands warmed my ass as he lifted me higher to feel him, that aching heat teasing me. Raw need crashed through me as he slowly lowered me onto that tantalizing heat so he could possess me, body and soul. I dug my fingers ‌into his shoulders, desperate for more even as he set a punishing pace.

Electricity sparked along every nerve ending. The ache spread, growing to unbearable heights, begging for release. He lowered his head to nibble on my neck. My breath caught. Pleasure tightened around my spine.

“Detective Hart,” Dr. Florence snapped, shattering the fantasy.

I dragged in a ragged breath, surprised to find myself completely clothed and still in the lab. A glance over my shoulder revealed a beyond-irritated Dr. Florence. At some point, I’d vacated the exam table and was now pressed against the spelled glass, prompting rainbows of magic to radiate out.

I swallowed hard and took a step back. This moon sickness business was a veritable minefield of sensation and emotional overload. Not even stray thoughts were safe. The roaring in my ears gradually subsided, and the source of Dr. Florence’s fury became evident. The heart rate monitor was beeping like crazy.

I took another deep breath and attempted to force my shaking limbs to still. The breath had next to no effect, as my body remained keenly aware of Elijah’s proximity. Beeps continued to flood the room in a loud, rapid rhythm.

Her scowl deepened. “I have no qualms about calling security if you cannot control your urges.”

My hackles rose, my arousal and embarrassment instantly replaced by overwhelming anger. “Have you ever actually treated Mien Zeke?”

She sniffed. “I’ve treated numerous lycanthropes over the years.”

There was no containing my growl. The sound rolled out of me, deep and ominous at a timbre that threatened to shake the beakers sitting on the counter. “That’s not what I asked you.”

She took a step back, her hand hovering over the emergency call button. Her wary gaze tracked my movements. “Statistically, some were bound to be similarly afflicted.”

I flexed my hand, which was already aching with the pain of the change. My jaw clenched as I fought off the sudden urge to transform. “So, no then? Why areyoumy doctor?”

She let out an indignant huff. “I already told you—”

“I’m well aware of the stipulations in my medical policy. However, if you are not qualified to treat my particular condition, then I see no reason to continue this charade. Especially considering your obvious distaste for my physiology. Or am I mistaken? By all means, tell me you’re not a speciesist bigot that would sooner see a werewolf die than take the time to treat them properly.”

I didn’t even realize I’d been advancing on her throughout the tirade until her hand slammed down on the button. Instantly, a flood of orderlies armed with syringes poured into the lab. I snarled as I evaded two only to be caught by a third. Dr. Florence’s smug look of satisfaction was the last thing I saw before the cold sliding through my veins pulled me under.

Elijah