Now what? Selma swallowed nervously. He couldn’t possibly know that the nurse was suspicious of the bruising he’d left—could he? Oh god, what was he going to do to the poor woman?
She tried shooting him a pleading look, but he didn’t notice as he led them both further into his office before turning to look at them again.
“I know you’re very busy today, Marie, so I won’t keep you long. I just want to hear if my patient has been eating properly and taking care of herself?”
His charming smile seemed to have the same effect on the young nurse as it had the other day; her cheeks went a bit rosy and she seemed like she was trying not to giggle. Clearing her throat, probably to regain her professional voice, she looked to Selma.
“Well, she is eating well enough, but I noticed some bruises on her today that she insists she did to herself.”
Selma paled. No. How was she meant to keep the nurse safe if Marathin knew what she’d seen?
Amber eyes caught her frightened gaze. “What’s this, Selma?”
“It was before you helped me, Dr. Hershey,” she whispered. “I’ve self-harmed in the past, but only because of... the monsters. I don’t think it will ever happen again, now that I’m... cured.”
“I’m not sure she’s telling the truth,” Marie stated bluntly, placing a calming hand on her patient’s shoulder. “They don’t look self-inflicted, and you know... what’s happened in the past.”
His gaze moved to the nurse and he nodded seriously. “I will look at them and talk to Selma, Marie. If it is not self-inflicted, we will take action, and if they are, we will incorporate that into her treatment.”
Then the demon smiled. “We will get to the bottom of this. Thank you for being so diligent in your duties, even when the department is running understaffed today.”
The blush returned full-force to Marie’s cheeks. “I’m just doing my job, doctor.”
“You do it extraordinarily well.” His smile seemed extra-brilliant, and Selma had a feeling that he was working his demonic charms on the poor woman. “I won’t keep you from your other duties any longer. Thank you again.”
Marie nodded and moved towards the door, and a tiny blossom of hope bloomed in Selma. Maybe the issue could be solved without further involvement from her. Maybe Marie would be satisfied with Marathin proclaiming the bruises self-inflicted.
That hope lingered until he absentmindedly stroked a hand over Selma’s hip to soothe the marks hidden under her clothes. His back was to the door, and he must have assumed the nurse had already left, or perhaps he’d just reacted on instinct to calm her. But Selma was still facing the door, and she saw Marie freeze with her fingers on the knob, her gaze locked on the doctor’s hand.
Her eyes quickly darted to Selma’s, comprehension making them widen in shock.
Oh, god! She was going to get herself killed!
Selma shook her head ever so slightly, willing the other woman to leave and leave now before she turned her attention to the demon, trying to keep his focus on her so he didn’t turn around.
Hopefully if she said the right thing, the nurse would understand how important it was that she kept silent and left before Marathin realized what she’d seen.
“I’m sorry; I was showering and she walked in, but I didn’t say anything. Please don’t hurt her.” Her voice was squeaky with fear, but she made sure it resonated loudly enough for Marie to hear.
Selma dared a glance at her and saw her eyes widen even farther before she closed the door almost all the way, hiding her body from detection, but leaving enough of a gap to hear his response.
“I won’t hurt her if I don’t have to.” Marathin cupped her cheek with his large hand, eyes carefully examining hers. “Because you ask it of me, my sweet. But if she goes any further with this, I will have to silence her. Do you understand? Play your part, and she may live.”
Too terrified to do anything but nod, she prayed that Marie was smart enough to keep her nose out of it after hearing the consequences if she didn’t.
Seemingly she was, because when Marathin released Selma’s cheek and turned to lock the door, the nurse was gone.
Selma exhaled a breath of relief. Whatever happened next, at least she wouldn’t be responsible for an innocent’s death.
“So.” Marathin’s deep voice shook her from her moment’s respite. The large man turned back around, eyes trailing the length of her body. “Let me see how bad the bruising is.”
Silently she lifted her top and pushed the waistband of her pants down a little, displaying the dark marks.
He moved closer, letting a finger slide gently over her bruised flesh, humming low in his throat as he took in the damage. “Mating marks,” he murmured. “They are inevitable, I’m afraid. Do they hurt?”
Selma shook her head and let her shirt fall to cover up her skin when he withdrew his hand.
“Did I hurt you anywhere else? I notice you move a little stiffly.” He stroked a hand up her side, over her shoulder, and down her arm in a caress that made her shiver. Standing this close made her almost painfully aware of his unnatural heat, and fear bloomed from the pit of her stomach.
