Comfortably Numb Pulse Novels & Stories

“BP is 88, Pulse is 120…. OR is ready.” They wheeled us into the OR.

Way too fast. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. I paused. I shifted my fingers, pressing deeper into the radial artery. There was a second beat. Faint. Rhythmic. Thump-thump... echo. My hand went numb. My stomach did a slow, sickening roll. "No," I whispered. I performed the check again. A rhythmic pulse-check I’d done a thousand times on pregnant Omegas in the Harrington clinic. The nausea hit me like a physical blow. I leaned over and retched, but nothing came out but dry, yellow bile.

Her brow furrowed, and she adjusted the instrument, checking again before finally pulling away, seemingly unsatisfied but unsure of what to make of the readings. "Her heartbeat is normal," Dr. Humphrey murmured, glancing up at the group. “Everything physically seems... fine.” She quickly moved on to check Charlotte's pulse again, taking her wrist into her hand. Her fingers pressed gently on the skin, and after a moment, she gave a slight nod. The pulse was steady, strong, without the erratic rhythm they had expected.

He was acutely knackered in some accident. The man didn't reply, neither moved a muscle. He laid on the comfy bed with his eyes closed. Maybe he's still under the effect of anasthesia. She inched closer, drawing his wrist in her hold to check his pulse. It felt lower than the normal pulse rate. She untangled the stethoscope, plugged in the tip in her ears as she brought the curved circular diaphragm near his chest holding the stem.

With that thought in mind, she grabbed Jefford’s wrist and tried to feel his pulse. “What are you doing?” It was now Jefford’s turn to ask her that. “I have to feel your heartbeat if you want me to administer needle therapy on you,” she replied while focusing on feeling his pulse. His pulse was erratic. It wasn’t due to mood swings, but because of weak blood flow—a clear sign that his body had just suffered from a grievous injury and hadn’t fully recovered yet. Shock filled her eyes as she stared at him. Once more, she couldn’t help but link Jeffrey with him.

He had pressed his hand to his chest without realizing it. Something was wrong. Not pain. It was not sharp enough to call pain. It was more like—a flickering. Like a light source that had been steady suddenly losing its connection. The pulse beneath his skin, the one that had been quietly present for days now, was unsteady. Faint in a way it had not been before. He pressed his palm flat against his sternum. It was still there. But barely. "I'm fine," he said, because Madam Frost was watching him with careful eyes. "I just— " He stopped. "I'm fine."

“Let the Pulse separate what belongs to you from what belongs to the past. The echoes are lessons, not chains. Do not fear them.” Kane inhaled deeply, centering herself. The Pulse shifted, no longer just a rhythm under her skin but a flow of energy that wrapped around her limbs, her spine, her heart. She moved her hands slowly, letting them brush over the glowing roots. The energy followed her motions, responding to her intention, aligning itself with her heartbeat. She felt it stretch into her senses, sharpening her hearing, enhancing her vision, even heightening her awareness of the subtle shifts in temperature and air.

Dr. Raphael Alderton is the city's most brilliant thoracic surgeon, known for his ice-cold precision and untouchable demeanor. But when the enigmatic Elias Wrenford arrives at St. Jude’s Medical Center with a gunshot wound and a past tied to the underworld, Raphael's professional walls begin to crumble. Elias is dangerous, arrogant, and undeniably magnetic. As their clandestine attraction explodes into a series of feverish encounters, Raphael finds himself entangled in a web of secrets that threaten his career and his life. In a world of sterile white halls and dark alleyways, can Raphael save the man who makes his heart race, or will they both bleed out?

His fingers were cool as they gently tilted my chin upward, angling my face toward the light. “Follow my finger,” he instructed. I did, my eyes tracking the slow movement from side to side, though the motion made my head throb faintly. “Good. Any dizziness?” he asked. “A little,” I admitted, my voice hoarse, like I hadn’t used it in hours. He nodded, as if that was expected. His hand moved to my wrist, two fingers pressing lightly against my pulse. He counted silently, his gaze flicking to a watch. “Pulse is slightly elevated, but nothing alarming.”

Plus, it’ll make Nick happy. She quietly says, “You’re a bit flushed.” I tell her, “Hardly a surprise. I was just in Nick’s arms.” She smiles. Nods. Repeats her process and adds, “That must be it. Your pulse was on the high side, but it’s coming down.” I don’t bother mentioning it’ll escalate again as soon as Nick and I are in his suite. I’m sure she’s well aware.