those people on the planet who couldn’t keep jobs or enjoy an independent existence or spare the mental energy on little distractions-like, say, the fact that Cottonelle toilet paper was fifty cents off if you bought the twelve-pack of the double rolls.
Taking it all in, she was reminded yet again that going out into the real world was a luck-of-the-draw privilege, not a right, and it bothered her to think of her father holed up in that awful little house, wrestling with demons that existed only in his head.
He’d once had a life, a big life. He’d been a member of the aristocracy and had served on the council and been a scholar of note. He’d had a shellan he adored and a daughter he’d been proud of and a mansion renowned for its celebrations. Now all he had were delusions that tortured him, and though they were only perception, never reality, the voices were a jail no less ironclad for the fact that no one else could see the bars or hear the warden.
As Ehlena rinsed out her mug, she couldn’t help thinking of the unfairness of it all. Which was good, she supposed. Even with all she saw on her job, she hadn’t gotten used to suffering, and she prayed she never did.
Before she left the locker room, she did a quick check in the full-length mirror next to the door. Her white uniform was perfectly pressed and clean as sterile gauze. Her stockings were without runs. Her crepe-soled shoes were smudge-and scuff-free.
Her hair was as frazzled as she felt.
She did a quick pull-free, retwist, and scrunchie-up, then headed out for exam room three.
The patient’s chart was in the clear plastic holder mounted on the wall by the door, and she took a deep breath as she picked it out and opened it up. The thing was thin, considering how often they saw the male, and there was almost no information listed on the front, just his name, a cell phone, and a next of kin who was a female.
After she knocked, she walked into the room with confidence she didn’t feel, her head up, her spine straight, her unease camo’d by a combo of posture and professional focus.
“How are you this evening?” she said, as she looked the patient right in the eye.
The instant his amethyst stare met hers, she couldn’t have told a soul what had just come out of her mouth or whether he replied. Rehvenge, son of Rempoon, sucked the thought right out of her head, sure as if he’d drained the tank of her brain’s generator and left her with nothing to catch a mental spark off of.
And then he smiled.
He was a cobra, this male; he truly was…mesmerizing because he was deadly and because he was beautiful. With that mohawk and his hard, smart face and his big body, he was sex and power and unpredictability all wrapped up in…well, a black pin-striped suit that clearly had been made for him.
“I’m good, thank you,” he said, solving the mystery as to what she’d asked him. “And you?”
As she paused, he smiled a little, no doubt because he was fully aware that none of the nurses liked being in the same enclosed space with him, and evidently he enjoyed this fact. At least, that was how she read his controlled, hooded expression.
“I asked how you were doing?” he drawled.
Ehlena put his chart down on the desk and took her stethoscope out of her pocket. “I’m very well.”
“You sure about that.”
“Absolutely positive.” Turning to him, she said, “I’m just going to take your blood pressure and your heart rate.”
“My temperature, too.”
“Yes.”
“Do you want me to open my mouth for you now?”
Ehlena’s skin flushed, and she told herself it was not because that deep voice of his made the question seem as sexual as a lazy stroke over a naked breast. “Er…no.”
“Pity.”
“Please take off your jacket.”
“What a great idea. I totally take back the ‘pity.’”
Good plan, she thought, or she was liable to feed the word back to him with the thermometer.
Rehvenge’s shoulders rolled as he did what she’d asked him to, and with a casual flick of the hand, he tossed what was clearly a piece of menswear art onto the sable coat he’d carefully draped over a chair. It was odd: No matter what the season was, he always had one of those furs on.
Things were worth more than the house Ehlena rented.
As his long fingers went to the diamond cuff link on his right wrist, she stopped him.
“Could you please roll up the one on the other side?” She nodded toward the wall beside him. “More space for me on your left.”
He hesitated, then went to work on his opposite sleeve. Taking the black silk up past his elbow and onto his thick biceps, he kept his arm turned into his torso.
Ehlena took the blood pressure equipment from a drawer and ripped it open as she approached him. Touching him was always an experience, and she rubbed her hand on her hip to get ready. Didn’t help. When she came in contact with his wrist, as usual the current that licked up her arm landed in her heart, James Browning the damn thing until the shimmy-shimmies had her sucking back a gasp.
With a prayer that this wouldn’t take long, she moved his arm into position for the cuff and-“Good…Lord.”
The veins running up through the crook of his elbow were decimated from overuse, swollen, black-and-blue, as ragged as if he’d been using nails, not needles on himself.
Her eyes shot to his. “You must be in such pain.”
He rolled his wrist out of her grasp. “Nope. Doesn’t bother me.”
Tough guy. Like she was surprised? “Well, I can understand why you wanted to come in to see Havers.”
Pointedly, she reached out and rotated his arm back around, gently prodding at a red line that was traveling up his biceps, heading in the direction of his heart.
“There are signs of infection.”
“I’ll be fine.”
All she could do was raise her eyebrows. “You ever hear of sepsis?”
“The indie band? Sure, but I wouldn’t think you’d have.”
She shot him a look. “Sepsis as in an infection of the blood?”
“Hmm, you want to lean over the desk a little and draw me a picture?” His eyes drifted down her legs. “I think I’d find that…very educational.”
If any other male had pulled that kind of line, she’d have slapped them down until they saw stars. Unfortunately, when it was that heavenly bass voice doing the talking and that amethyst stare doing the walking, she didn’t really feel leched upon.
She felt caressed by a lover.
Ehlena resisted the urge to V8 her forehead. What the hell was she doing? She had a date tonight. With a nice, reasonable, civilian male who’d been nothing but nice, reasonable, and very civil.
“I don’t have to draw you a picture.” She nodded down at his arm. “You can see for yourself right there. If you don’t treat this, it’s going to go systemic.”
And even though he wore fine clothes like every tailor’s dream mannequin, death’s cold gray cloak would not look good on him.
He held his arm against his tight abs. “I’ll take that under advisement.”
Ehlena shook her head and reminded herself that she couldn’t save people from their own stupidity just because she had a white coat hanging from her shoulders and the letters RN at the end of her name. Besides, Havers was going to see that in all its gory glory when the doctor examined him.
“Fine, but let’s take your reading on the other arm. And I’m going to have to ask you to take your shirt off. The doctor’s going to want to see how far up that infection goes.”
Rehvenge’s mouth lifted in a smile as he reached for his top button. “You keep this up and I’ll be naked.”
Ehlena looked away fast and wished like hell she found him sleazy. She could sure use an injection of righteous indignation to help fend him off.
“You know, I’m not shy,” he said in that low voice of his. “You can watch if you like.”
“No, thank you.”
“Pity.” In a darker tone, he added, “I wouldn’t mind you watching me.”
As the sound of silk moving against flesh rose up from the exam table, Ehlena made busywork going through
