Page 71 of Bleed with Me

She left in a hurry last night as if she was petrified I would eat her alive. A smile lifted my lips at that thought. It certainly became a plan for the near future. Still, while I expected her to check up on me first thing in the morning, nothing came. Maybe she watched me from between the trees as I left for work. Or perhaps she hacked the hospital cameras again and surveilled my every step while I bounced my feet against the floor, desperate for a “good morning”.

Dorian: No reward for being a good boy. No explanation for why you left so hurriedly. No morning text. You’re being rude, ma vilaine.

I hit the send button, glaring at the words “good boy.” Why on earth did I write it? I made a mental note to never refer to myself that way again, even when it made my cock tingle, when her reply came.

Wifey: Your reward was a taste of me, and I left because I was done with you. Be grateful you got anything at all.

My brows shot up. She had never been this mean. I quickly typed the response, wondering what had happened.

Dorian: Who got your panties in a twist? Should I rearrange someone’s face for you?

The three dots appeared and disappeared a few times before the text finally lit up my screen.

Wifey: Aren’t you cute? Going all protective because of me.

My brows furrowed while my fingers ferociously created a reply, but before I could send it, my door slammed open. I raised my head from the phone, glancing in surprise at the head of my hospital, Jessica Ryan.

She stood on the threshold like she owned the fucking building. And in many ways, she did. Jessica was my first choice for the hospital leader, and everyone involved agreed.

Her resume and records were flawless. Her standards were high and unforgiving. She made the impossible seem effortless with admirable control over every situation. One sharp look from her forced people to rethink their miserable life choices, and those chocolate-brown eyes, glaring from behind thick black glasses, landed on me.

“Good morning?” I greeted, unintentionally making it sound like a question.

I closed my phone screen and quickly scanned her, but nothing was out of place. Her white suit was impeccable as always, literally glowing against her dark skin. Neat braids were pulled back into a structured afro style, and plump lips pressed into a firm line.

“Where is the report for social services about Aryna Stankovich?” she asked, entering the room. Her eyes jumped from the sofa full of medical books to the desk overflowing with files and charts.

“Here.” I handed it to her, recalling the talk with social services the other day. “Did she say how she fell?”

“No.” Jessica shook her head, leafing through the papers. “Her only interest is to get the stitches out.” She raised her gaze from the last page. “Where is the last part?”

“What?” I stood up and walked around the desk to look at it. And surely, the last page of Aryna’s report with my signature was missing. “I’m sure I put it there.”

“Well, obviously, you didn’t.” She returned the file, scowling at me. “Shouldn’t you be at the clinic today?”

I blinked at her, quickly masking my shock behind a charming smile. I completely forgot about two minor surgeries I should have performed this morning.

Ooooh, fuck.

“I’m on my way.”

Jessica nodded and walked to the door.

“I want the finished report on my desk by noon,” she commanded before she closed the door.

I rolled my eyes at the mess my lack of concentration caused. Hurrying to the nurse’s desk at the ER, I called the clinic and ordered my assistant to reschedule the procedures or suggest another surgeon to the patients.

“Print me the last page of Aryna Stankovich’s chart, please,” I asked the nurse at the receptionist desk, musing where the hell it was. I was one hundred percent sure it was in my house yesterday, on my sofa. It couldn’t just evaporate.

“What are you doing here?” Melody bumped my shoulder, disturbing my thoughts. She placed a plastic cup on the desk and removed her face mask. “Shouldn’t you be at the clinic today?”

“Change of plans,” I mumbled, growing annoyed with my incompetence.

Never, in seventeen years, had I missed a surgery, an examination, or been late for a shift. I always showed up, sick, beaten after a night in a fighting cage, tired after a hunt with Malin, even with a broken leg. Today was the first time I fucked up my schedule, and I hated it.

“Perfect,” Melody chirped, adding sugar to her coffee. “You can check Aryna’s forearm. She bit the resident last night and refuses to come out from under the table.”

“What?” I blinked in confusion at the head nurse, who confirmed Melody’s words with a nod.