تسجيل الدخولELENA. I stand and he pulls me onto the bed, flipping us so I’m underneath him.“My turn,” he says. His hands unhook my bra and pull it away. His mouth goes to my breast immediately and I arch into the sensation.“You have perfect tits,” he says between licks and sucks. “I’ve been wanting to put my mouth on them since the first time I saw you.”“When was that?”“When you were examining my shoulder. You leaned over me and I could see down your scrubs and all I could think about was how badly I wanted to touch you.”“That’s very inappropriate.”“I know. I felt terrible about it.” His mouth moves to my other breast. “Didn’t stop me from thinking about it though.”His hand slides down my stomach to the waistband of my underwear. “Can I?”“Please.”He pulls them down and tosses them aside. Then his hands are on my thighs spreading them wide.“I need to taste you,” he says. “I’ve been thinking about this since I walked into your apartment. About getting my mouth on your pussy. About findi
ELENAThe restaurant is nice. More formal than I expected. White tablecloths and candles and an intimacy that makes everything feel charged.We order and talk and the conversation flows easily but there’s an undercurrent of tension that wasn’t there at breakfast. Every time his hand brushes mine. Every time he looks at me with those dark eyes. Every time he smiles like he knows exactly what I’m thinking.“Can I ask you something?” he says halfway through dinner.“Sure.”“What were you thinking about in the shower this morning?”I nearly choke on my wine. “What?”“You texted me at nine AM. You got off shift at seven. That means you were home for two hours before texting. I’m guessing you showered. And I’m wondering what you were thinking about.”My face is burning. “That’s a very presumptuous question.”“Is it wrong though?”“I’m not answering that.”“So I’m right.” He leans back with a satisfied smile. “Were you thinking about me?”“You’re very confident.”“That’s not a no.”“We sh
ELENATuesday takes forever to arrive.I work two more shifts between breakfast with Rook and our actual date. Twelve hours each of trauma and chaos and trying not to check my phone every five minutes to see if he’s texted.He has texted. Multiple times.Nothing excessive. Just checking in. Asking about my shifts. Sending me a photo of his breakfast with the caption “eating healthy like my doctor ordered.”I save that photo even though I shouldn’t.Sarah notices I’m distracted during Monday’s shift.“You’re smiling at your phone,” she says. “That’s new.”“I’m not smiling.”“You’re definitely smiling. Is it the track athlete?”“His name is Rook.”“So it is him. How was coffee?”“It turned into breakfast. And it was good.”“Good enough for a second date?”“We’re having dinner tonight.”She grins. “Look at you breaking all the professional boundaries.”“He’s not my patient anymore.”“He will be the next time he shows up injured.”“He’s not going to show up injured.”“You sure about tha
ELENASix hours later my shift ends and I’m exhausted.I change out of my scrubs into the jeans and sweater I wore to work. Fix my hair as much as possible after twelve hours. Try to look like a human instead of someone who just spent half a day dealing with medical emergencies.When I walk out to the waiting area Rook is still there.He’s reading something on his phone and he looks up when I approach. Smiles immediately.“You waited,” I say.“I told you I would.” He stands and pockets his phone. “How was the rest of your shift?”“Long. Busy. The usual.”“You look tired.”“That’s what twelve-hour night shifts do to a person.”“Do you still want to do this? We can reschedule if you’re too tired.”I should say yes. Should go home and sleep. Should maintain distance.“I’m not too tired,” I say. “Where did you have in mind?”“There’s a place two blocks from here that opens at six. Makes good breakfast and excellent coffee.”“You planned this.”“I had six hours to plan it.”We walk to the
ELENATen days later and Rook hasn’t shown up in my ER.I tell myself that’s a good thing. Means he’s actually resting. Following medical advice for once. Taking care of himself properly.I tell myself I’m not disappointed.I’m lying.It’s Friday night and I’m halfway through another twelve-hour shift. Standard chaos. MVA with multiple traumas. Elderly patient with chest pain. Kid who stuck a bead up his nose. The usual.I’m updating charts when Sarah, one of the other attending physicians, appears next to me.“There’s someone here to see you,” she says with a knowing smile.“I’m working. Tell them to wait.”“He said it’s important. Also he’s very attractive and brought you coffee.”My stomach flips. “Where is he?”“Waiting area. Bay entrance.”I save the chart and head to the waiting area trying to calm my heart rate.Rook is standing near the doors wearing jeans and a fitted shirt instead of athletic gear. He’s holding two coffee cups and he smiles when he sees me.“Dr. Ruiz.”“Mr.
ELENAThe third time Rook Castellan shows up in my ER I start to think he’s doing it on purpose.First time was six weeks ago. Dislocated shoulder from a bad landing during practice. Standard sports injury. I relocated it, prescribed pain medication, gave him the usual speech about rest and physical therapy, and sent him home.Second time was three weeks ago. Sprained ankle during a meet. Again, standard. Wrapped it, prescribed anti-inflammatories, told him to stay off it for a week minimum.Now he’s back.Sitting on the examination table in bay four at eleven PM on a Tuesday wearing track pants and a compression shirt that does nothing to hide the fact that he’s built like an Olympic athlete.Which he might actually be based on the university gear he’s always wearing.“Dr. Ruiz,” he says when I walk in. He’s holding an ice pack to his ribs. “We have to stop meeting like this.”“That’s my line.” I wash my hands and pull on gloves. “What happened this time?”“Collision during relay
NAYANA. Two months into our arrangement, and everything had changed.Dimitri didn’t just feed from me anymore… he fucked me while he fed. Every night, sometimes multiple times. He was insatiable, his need for my blood matched only by his need to be inside me, claiming me, marking me over and over
ABIGAIL.Three days passed before Oberin appeared again.I’d started to think maybe it had all been a stress-induced hallucination.Maybe I’d had a psychotic break and imagined the whole thing. But the mark on my arm remained, a dark reminder of the contract. And Tate’s life had started falling ap
TAIRA.In our world, men are commodities.Not slaves—let me be clear about that. The Harvest Laws are strict about consent and compensation. But in a woman ruled society where male ejaculate is the most valuable substance on the planet, men with premium genetics and high production capability are
NALINA.I woke to the feeling of something cool and slick sliding across my ankle.My eyes snapped open. Pale dawn light filtered through cracks in the cave ceiling, mixing with the luminous glow. Thalassor was there, half-emerged from the water, one tentacle wrapped loosely around my leg.“Good m







