FrankenDom (19 page)

Grinding my teeth at their chuckles, I turned and opened my bedroom door. More needles.
“Where the fuck do you want me to go?” I yelled.

Knives.

This time I fell to my knees with a shout. “I’m sorry, Sir! Please tell me what you
want me to do.”

The knives eased to needles. “I want you to follow where I lead you.”

“Sir, is your middle name Obfuscation, by any chance?” I asked breathlessly.

Laughs erupted behind me and the sensation settled back into an almost pleasurable
tightness and throbbing. “No, slave, but I might make use of that moniker at some
point. Where are you supposed to go?”

What the hell? I’d tried to go both directions down the corridor and into my room.
That only left one direction—back into the dungeon. Was I supposed to have run to
him instead of away from him?

Pushing back up to my feet with my hands, I turned and hobbled back across the corridor,
cringing as I crossed the threshold. When nothing happened, I continued toward Julian.
Needles made me veer off to the right, where Colin now knelt on the stone floor, leaning
forward on his hands and moving like he was fucking an invisible person. Someone had
removed his hood and he was watching me with his mouth hanging open.

When the needles let up, I made my way to Colin and stopped in front of him. Needles
made me move to his side and turn around. Pained pleasure made my knees buckle, and
within seconds, I was in a posture identical to Colin’s, thrusting my hips at nothing
as orgasm bore down on me. Without touching either of us, without saying a word, he
made Colin and me come together again while he and the others watched avidly.

I was surrounded by perverts, sadists, and control freaks, and I loved it.

A couple of days later, we had another scene in the medical clinic that made the first
one seem tame by comparison. I safe-worded fairly quickly and made it clear that certainly
bodily functions always had been, and always would be, private.

Julian made it clear that he would never stop pushing that limit. When I demanded
to know why, he said, “Because it’s rooted in shame, and there’s no place in our relationship
for shame.”

I knew then that limit was doomed, but I made up my mind to fight the good fight as
long as I could. That night, as Colin and I cuddled in the dark, he warned me that
if I stayed with them, I would eventually have no limits. Julian wouldn’t allow any
to stand.

For a second, I squirmed. “But why? Why can’t he respect that I have…well, limits?”

“He needs the control,” Colin said softly. “There’s too much in this world that’s
beyond his control, so he controls what he can.”

I hesitated for just a second before asking, “Do you have any limits?”

“Not anymore. I’m his to do with whatever he pleases, and it’s made me a better man—and
believe it or not, a better Dom—than I ever thought I could be.
I’m
his Galatea.”

My heart thudded uncomfortably in my throat as tears welled in my eyes. I envied what
they had. I wanted it. But I was afraid.

As if he could read my mind, Colin said, “Rachel, you’re a doctor. You know all bodily
processes are not only natural, but required. You wouldn’t think twice about letting
a nurse check your fluid output levels or bowel function after you had abdominal surgery,
would you?”

“That’s different—it’s
necessary
. And I certainly wouldn’t enjoy it.”

I felt him shrug. “It’s necessary for Julian, too. And you don’t have to enjoy it.
That’s a lot of what being a slave is about—doing things for your master’s pleasure
rather than your own.”

That comment was enough to keep my mind working overtime for days.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t much else to distract me. Every time I looked out the
window and found the driveway plowed and the cobblestone walkways through the weed
gardens scooped, I thought about going for a walk just to clear my head. Then I noticed
the clear ice building up in the corners of the windows—on the
inside
—and decided I wasn’t brave enough to face the cold.

A couple of days ago when I looked out, I saw Julian pushing someone down the walk,
away from the castle. Though the man wore one of those Scandinavian hats with ear
flaps, I could see a jaw and nose that were unmistakable.

Had his brother already arrived for the surgery? Would I get to meet him beforehand?
I hoped so, especially since there was a good chance he might not survive long enough
to meet me afterward.

That evening at dinner, I asked, “Was that your brother I saw you with this afternoon?”

Julian paused with his soup spoon at his lips, looking startled. “This afternoon?”

“Yes, outside on the walk. I saw you through the window and thought he looked a lot
like you.”

He glanced at Colin and then sipped the soup off the spoon before answering. “Yes,
that was Jordan. He stopped for a short visit.”

“Can I meet him?”

Julian shook his head. “I’m sorry, but he’s already gone and won’t be back until the
day of the surgery.”

“That’s too bad. I would have loved to get to know him.”

Looking annoyed, Julian said, “You can get to know him when he wakes up after the
surgery. And he
will
wake up. Do not doubt it.”

“I’m sure he will,” I said quickly.

He stiffened. “Don’t placate me with banality, Dr. McBride.
Believe
me. Have faith in me. I
will not
let my brother die, do you understand?”

“I do,” I said with tears in my eyes. “I’m sorry, Sir. I do believe in you. I love
you.”

Julian wiped his mouth with his napkin before standing up. “I love you too, Rachel,”
he said quietly.

Then he left without finishing his dinner and we didn’t see him for the rest of the
evening. I should have been happy that he loved me, but instead, I worried. Why did
his confession sound so…resigned? What was he doing? What was he thinking? I hated
having to go to bed without at least our usual parting kiss.

“Do you think he’s okay?” I asked when we got to my room.

Colin sighed as he pulled off his shirt. “He’ll be fine. He’s just got a lot on his
mind and a lot to do between now and the surgery.”

“I wish I hadn’t upset him. That’s the last thing he needs right now.”

“You can’t help how you feel, Rachel, and I think it’s best to be honest about it.
He’ll get over it.”

I hoped he was right, but I had a bad feeling about it.

* * * * *

The day of the execution, Julian had a few last-minute details to tie up in Montaneva’s
capital city before the surgery, so at one o’clock, he gave Colin and me each a casual
kiss goodbye. We wouldn’t see him again before the surgery—when he returned, he’d
go directly to the surgical suite to oversee the patient prep.

Colin and I didn’t talk about the surgery. Instead, we ate a light supper and basically
meditated, working up that razor sharp-focus we’d need to successfully complete our
tasks.

At nine o’clock, we went up to the surgical suite to check in. We needed to be in
line, ready to scrub in when all the surgeons operating ahead of us, a few of whom
I still hadn’t met, were done.

We were all tense, watching the clock, hating the fact that we were counting down
the death of one man so that another could live.

When word came that the condemned had been declared dead, the clock started. By the
time the donor arrived at Bangenschloss, he had already been, anesthetized, prepped,
and marked, and was well on his way to hypothermic.

The patient was reportedly prepped and cooling right on schedule as well.

Before I scrubbed in, I stretched and did deep breathing exercises to make sure I
was as sharp and limber as I could be. I didn’t allow myself to consider anything
but a positive outcome. After I scrubbed in, I stayed away from the observation window,
concentrating only on the clinical procedure I was about to perform.

When Dr. Lang and I stepped up to the table, the only part of the patient visible
between the drapes was his neck, which was a deep yellow from the iodine-impregnated
incision drape. Everything but his blood supply had already been neatly severed. Having
been informed in passing that everything had proceeded according to plan, I quickly
applied two clamps to each vessel and sliced between them as Dr. Lang did the same
on the other side.

I didn’t watch the male nurse lift the patient’s head, which was affixed to a halo
and carefully strapped to a sterile board, but instead stalked immediately into the
other operation room and assumed my position beside the other headless body. The instant
the draped head touched the table, Dr. Lang and I set to work. One by one, I inserted
mesh stents, suturing the main arteries and veins on the patient’s left side with
a series of small pre-threaded needles and tying them off before moving on to the
next one.

I was so focused on my own task that I had no idea how much time had passed or how
Dr. Lang was progressing. When I finished, I looked up and found him suturing the
last major vessel, the external jugular vein. He completed the task just seconds behind
me.

With a short glance and nod at each other, we quickly released all the clamps.

“Start the machine,” I ordered.

Immediately the heart-lung machine began pumping blood through the patient’s system.
After a quick check of the polypropylene sutures to make sure they were holding securely,
we reconnected the smaller vessels and then stepped out of the way to make room for
Julian and Colin and their equipment.

It was a shock to realize that our part was finished, and in just forty-two minutes.
I’d done my best, and the patient’s survival was out of my hands now.

Which meant I was free to pray and pace and chew my nails to bloody nubs.

For the rest of the afternoon and evening, all of us who’d already completed our part
of the surgery took turns standing at the observation window watching the other surgeons
complete theirs. Colin and Julian stayed in the OR while the remaining surgeons carefully
reattached the skull, stabilized the cervical spine and sutured muscles, stepping
in once and a while to reattach more nerves. I was so exhausted all I wanted to do
was sleep, but I couldn’t relax until they did. It would be days, perhaps even weeks
or months, before we’d know anything about the outcome of today’s procedure, but I
wouldn’t rest until I knew the patient’s head was as completely attached to his body
as we could get it.

Once the plastic surgeons had closed the main incision and sprayed on stem cells that
would eventually render the scar barely visible, the operation was declared complete
at twenty-seven hours, twelve minutes and the patient was moved to the intensive care-level
recovery room.

We all cheered as the last four surgeons stripped off their gloves and gowns and walked
out of the operating room. I flew into Julian’s arms, vibrating with exhaustion and
an excess of joy and fear and hope, and just hugged him while everyone else crowded
around to congratulate the neurosurgical team.

When the noise finally died down and the crowd began to disperse, he stroked the back
of my head.

“I love you so much,” he said, kissing my ear. Then he hooked an arm around Colin’s
neck and pulled him into the embrace, planting a kiss on his temple. “I love you too,
my dear. Thank you both, from the very bottom of my heart. You can’t know what this
means to me.”

“Oh, I think we can, Sir,” Colin said quietly, hugging both of us. “I’m proud of you,
Rachel.”

“Proud of me?” I asked incredulously, pulling back to stare at him. “All I did was
hook up the pipes. You and Julian did all the truly amazing work.”

“We got to work together,” Julian said. “You went in there without us. Trust me, it
makes a difference. So thank you again, Dr. McBride. I’m very proud to be working
with you.”

I flushed with pleasure and longed to kiss his wonderful, strong, tired face, but
one of the other surgeons was waiting to speak to Julian so I simply murmured, “Thank
you, Sir.”

“I was going to say the very same thing, Dr. McBride,” the surgeon hovering beside
me said a very British accent.

Looking up, I said, “Thank you, Doctor… Oh, uh…”

This time I flushed with embarrassment rather than pleasure. It was the voyeur doctor
from that first night in the clinic, the one who’d looked vaguely familiar.

“Dr. McBride, you remember Dr. Thurlough, don’t you?” Julian said. “Dr. Roderick Thurlough?”

Frowning, I stared up at the man. Where did I know him from?

“Perhaps this will help,” he offered, pulling off his surgical cap and releasing his
hair from the ponytail I hadn’t noticed last night. Then he grinned. “Hello, Rae.”

My eyes went wide. I’d only ever known one long-haired Englishman.

“Mas—” I looked around and lowered my voice on the off chance that at least one person
in this crowed had no knowledge of Julian’s other life. “Master Rod?”

“Lovely to see you again, my dear,” he murmured. “Every delicious inch of you.”

That didn’t help the stinging in my cheeks. “The pleasure was all yours.”

His eyebrow rose. “The way you carried on? I hardly think so.”

I glanced around in consternation. Dammit, I’d asked for that one.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded.

“Performing orthopedic surgery on the patient.”

“No, I mean…” I looked back and forth between him and Julian. Could this possibly
be a coincidence? No—considering the pointed way Julian introduced him, he had to
know that I’d been acquainted with Master Rod before last night.

Julian sighed. “Rachel, I’m your Dominant. Do you honestly believe I’d go off and
leave you unprotected for the rest of your residency?”

“What are you talking about?”

“When I was forced to leave the US after my brother’s diagnosis, I continued to monitor
your progress and activities through a variety of resources. The only time I interfered
was when you began exploring your kinks online.”