Page 100 of Wicked Vile King
But, surely, his plan wasn't to kill her. He'd need some way to bring her back.
Narcan.
Find the Narcan.
I rifle through his medical bag until I turn it over, spilling its guts across his desk and sending shit dropping everywhere. Finally, I spot the Narcan box. I grab it, rip it open, and take it over to her. Then I shove it up her nostril and depress the device. It administers with a hiss, and at first, nothing happens, and something in me ceases to exist.
She can't die.
She just can't.
But then she takes a deep breath, her eyes popping open and seeing me.
"Saint," she croaks, trying to sit up, and falling back down again. "What are you . . . Where's Dr. Cross?"
She closes her eyes and opens them up again, looking at the chaise, at his desk, and finally down to her bare legs and pussy.
Her eyes go wide, and she starts to shake.
"Shh," I tell her, scooping her up into my arms. "It's okay, pretty girl. It's okay."
"Did he . . ." she hiccups on a sob. "Did he . . ."
"I don't think so," I answer. "He still had his pants on when I arrived."
She begins to cry out of relief, and I hold her, letting her cling to me on the chaise. She smells like fresh-cut roses and fear, and I breathe her in, holding her until her sobs finally quiet and she asks softly, "Where is he?"
She has to know I killed him for it.
"You don't have to worry about him anymore, pet," I say.
"I want to see him," she whispers back.
"Ok, pretty girl," I say as I adjust her, lifting her in my arms, so she can see over the chaise at the crime scene behind us.
She shakes even harder.
"It's okay," I tell her. "It's okay. I'm here."
She cries, her tears wetting my shirt as she sobs, and I lift her to lick away her tears, finishing each of her cheeks with a kiss.
"Thank you, Saint," she tells me, her fingers tight on my shirt.
"You're welcome, pet," I say.
"Saint?" she asks, burying her head against my neck.
"Yes?"
"Can you make me forget?"
I know what she's asking for, and I've been ready to fuck her ever since Cross bled out, but I don't think she knows what she's asking for right now.
"I don't think that's a good idea," I tell her, playing with her hair. "You've been through a lot today. How's your shoulder?"
She looks at it like she's forgotten about it.
"It barely hurts," she says.
