Not His Kiss to Take (3 page)

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Authors: Finn Marlowe

Tags: #romance adult erotica, #contemporary adult erotica, #fetish play, #kink, #romance, #male male romance, #gay adult erotica

BOOK: Not His Kiss to Take
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Shit
.

Blood on the door, blood on the wall, blood oozing onto the floor. Surprising how even a small amount could look like so much.


No, no,” the boy begged. “Don’t…no, don’t…”

Seconds crawled by as Evan waited for Laurie to come back. He kept talking, reassuring as best he could. He hadn’t been cold to his patients, but neither had he been approachable, a fact he’d only realized in retrospect. The boy grew more alert and struggled against Evan’s assessing hands, raising his arms to fend off attackers who were no longer there. “It’s okay,” Evan repeated. “They’re gone now. All of them. Gone. You’re safe. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you—I’m a doctor.” Those pitiful words sounded incredibly fucking inadequate as they rolled off his tongue. “Don’t move, okay? I can’t tell if anything is broken, and you shouldn’t move until I’ve had a chance to check your injuries. An ambulance is on the way—Laurie’s calling an ambulance right now. And the cops.”


No!” the boy cried, shoulders lurching off the floor. “No ambulance!” Blood leaked out the corner of his mouth. “No hospital, God, no please…” His voice broke on that pitiful
please
.


You’re injured.” Evan didn’t think the kid even knew he was. “Once you get to the hospital, the doctors will help you. They’ll fix you up and give you something to ease the pain.” Sounded like lame comfort to his own ears, but Evan needed to reassure himself as well. He had the sudden urge to vomit into the toilet he leaned against.


No hospital!” the boy repeated. Flailing, he smacked the wall with his hand, leaving a long, bloody smear behind. “They’ll find me…oh God, don’t let them get me!”


I won’t let them get you,” Evan promised. “I swear it. Nobody’s gonna get you. I’ll stay right here. Okay? Right here.”

With a loud, startling bang, the washroom door swung open, and a pile of bodies crowded up to the stall. “I don’t know what to do, Doc,” Laurie said, breathless and sounding rattled. “Dispatcher says they can’t get an ambulance here right away. They’re all out on calls because of the accidents tonight. Unless its life or death, they don’t want to pull an ambulance from another scene. She says it might take forty-five minutes for one to get here.”


Are you fucking kidding me?”


They’re sending a squad car—but they wanna know if we can maybe get him there ourselves. What do you want to do? What should I tell them?”


You got a car?”

Louis, bartender, part owner, part pit bull, nudged his shaved-and-tattooed head into the stall. “I do,” he said. “Fuck, Doc. You sure he ain’t dying?”

As soon as the boy heard Louis’s deep voice, he freaked out. Weak, panicked yells echoed off the tiles as he struggled awkwardly, trying to stand. “Don’t touch me!” he screamed repeatedly. “Stop it! Noooooo…”


Louis!” Evan called above the screaming. “Wait outside, ’kay? I think he’s scared of your voice.”

Louis looked happy to oblige. He specialized in mixing drinks and putting an end to drunken belligerence, not this. “You got it.”


Don’t let them get me!” At that fresh outburst, Evan jerked his head back, wincing at the increased volume. As he pulled away, a bloody hand seized him by the wrist. “Don’t let them get me,” the kid pleaded. “Please don’t let them hurt me anymore.”

Turning his head toward Laurie, Evan finally answered. “Tell them I’ll get him to the hospital myself.”


You sure?” Laurie asked.


No hospital!” the boy yelled in his ear, dragging himself up by using Evan’s arm as a ladder. “Don’t make me go!”

The kid wriggled out of the narrow space between the wall and toilet and fell against Evan’s chest in an exhausted, pain-ridden heap. At least now Evan knew he didn’t have to worry about a spinal injury. But his face—Jesus Christ. “Shhh, now. I’ll take you there myself. Nobody’s gonna hurt you, okay? I’ll go with you and make sure you’re safe. I promise I’ll watch over you the whole time. There’s nothing to be afraid of. You’ll be safe at the hospital. They have security there and—”


No!” the boy wailed. Swollen, pain-welled eyes stared up at him,
pleaded
with him. “Got no insurance anymore,” he cried. Blood trickled from his split lip. “They’ll take my savings…my college money. Please don’t do it.
Please!

In all his years at the hospital, Evan never got over how many people couldn’t afford to be there. They despaired when they should be worrying about getting better, not how much each suture cost, or every pill. Reform couldn’t come fast enough.

Take his college money?
God.
No one should have to make a choice like that.

But he doesn’t have to choose, does he?

There’s another way…

Where the hell did that thought come from? An unholy idea blossomed in some irrational and obviously migraine-addled part of his brain. But, irrational or not, Evan’s mind raced ahead with the idea, expanded on it, and, in an instant, sprang fully to life.

You could take care of him…

No—what?

You have everything you need at home, don’t you? And he’d be your one and only patient. He’d get the best care in the world. The very best.

The idea was…totally preposterous. Still…

Evan admitted that, yeah, probably, he had everything he needed to fix up the kid, provided bones weren’t broken, and he was pretty sure none were. Nothing like being a junkie, has-been doctor for having the best little drug store in town. And if he didn’t have what he needed, there was always the hospital. As a last resort.

A patient!
I could be a doctor again. I’m a good doctor.

And that was it. In that instant, and in his own mind, if not on paper, Evan Harrison became a practicing doctor once again and snapped out orders as if he’d never left the hospital and expected to be obeyed. Which he was.

Once the cops showed up, Laurie promised to send them over to the address Evan hastily scribbled on her arm. In the interim, she agreed to lock up the washroom until the police got a look at it and collected whatever evidence they needed, not that Evan thought it would matter by then. Lawyers would just argue the scene was compromised, and they’d be right. Assholes who did vile shit like this always seemed to get away with it. He used to see it every day.

Louis drove them the few, white-knuckled, and terrifying blocks to Evan’s apartment and opened the door for him as he carried the broken, battered boy to the elevator and braced his weight against the wall. Louis didn’t once question why Evan was taking the kid to his place and not a medical facility. Evan was a doctor, and that was that, as far as Louis was concerned. Fulminating darkness spread across Louis’s expression, though, frightening in the way it promised swift retribution to come. Evan couldn’t bring himself to care.


Take good care of him, Doc,” Louis said. “I swear I didn’t notice what was goin’ on. I try ta keep an eye on things, but sometimes I get busy with a big order. I’d have given ’em a shit-kicking if I’da caught ’em touchin’ the kid, ya know that. No one gets away with that shit in my place.”


And that’s why I like your place, Louis. Thanks for the ride. Do you think you could put his coat behind the bar? I’ll pick it up for him later.”


Sure thing.” He’d never seen Louis so pissed, like he was taking the attack personally. “I phoned some friends. We’re gonna go play darts over at a certain sports bar. I’ll stash his stuff before we go.”

That sounded ominous. Normally he’d discourage Louis from vigilantism. But not this time
. Let justice be served
. “Be careful,” was all he finally said, but Louis, and his muscles upon muscles, had already gone.

The angel in his arms might have seemed ethereal, at least when he wasn’t bleeding, but he weighed a hell of a lot more than he looked. Solid. Evan adjusted the dead weight. Each jostle hurt his new patient. The groans were quite vocal on that account.

What the hell had he gotten himself into?

The funny thing was, he didn’t care.

I’m a doctor again.

 

 

 

Chapter Three

 

 

 

Cold marble caressed Jamie’s cheek as he lay on the floor, curled into his ball of agony. He turned his head to bring his stinging, split lip into contact with the icy surface. Even that slight movement caused a wave of pain so intense, brilliant lights sparkled behind his closed lids. Moaning ripped things apart inside his throat, but the sounds kept gushing out, a torrent of hurt.
I’m…I’m…broken.
Cold fingers prodded his neck, startling him. He swatted them, but they kept at it, strong and insistent. Then they pulled his shirt up.

Hurting me! Stop hurting me!


Shhh, now,” soothed that incredible voice he’d heard before. Sounded angelic and hypnotizing at the same time. “I’m just gonna take a little listen. Nothing to be afraid of.”

Cold—why’s it so mother-fucking cold?
Maybe it was because freezing fingers were sliding up his chest, followed by an icy slab of metal. “No!” he gasped. A fresh wave of shivers wracked his body, squeezing the air from his chest. “H-hurts.” There, on his side—where the cold thing prodded—it hurt badly. That was okay, though, because below his chest, under the brutal scrape and tug of zipped-up denim, a fire raged, burning him alive. Pulling his legs to his chest only stoked the fire down there, but he felt safer with them tucked close.


Don’t be afraid. It’s just my stethoscope. It won’t hurt you.”

The sparkling lights dimmed, and the pain behind his eyes slowly eased. Eventually, his stomach quit trying to turn itself inside out. Jamie cracked his sticky lids open. Too bright! He slammed them shut again, but not before he noticed the man hovering over him and that the icy thing really was only a stethoscope. Fear battled with hope.
Maybe he won’t hurt me. But what if he brought me here to hurt me more? Please don’t hurt me… I’ll beg. I will.
The icy metal thing slid over his ribs and sent shivers up and around his exposed back.


Can you take a deep breath for me?” the doctor asked.

Didn’t he say he was a doctor? Jamie couldn’t quite remember. The knowledge just flitted in and out of his head.
Deep breath?
He could do that, couldn’t he? Not through the nose, though; that wasn’t working right. Fires raged there too, inside both nostrils and across the bridge; tiny sparks jumped off the tip and bit him on the lip. Jamie opened his mouth and breathed deep.
Hurts!
Fuck breathing.
Don’tcha know not to feed a fire with oxygen?
“C-cold,” Jamie whispered.


That’s because you’re in shock. And wet.”

Wet? How?
The stethoscope from hell snaked across his nipple, and he shivered so hard the white sparkles returned. Compared to that, he barely felt the cold hands prodding his ribs and belly, but he knew they were there, touching him, invading his person.


I’m going to take off your wet clothes now.”

No! Don’t touch me!
The sparkles exploded as Jamie jerked his head up off the floor, and everything flared bright white for a single, horrifying instant. Only the cold, and an empty stomach, kept him from puking.
Cold.
The sparkles scattered.
Water?
Water ran nearby, bubbling loudly.
Where am I?
This time when he opened his eyes, the sparkles didn’t race in and fill up his vision.

A washroom.

Something bad had happened in the washroom. So much pain. Big fists. Scared again, Jamie curled into a tighter ball and ignored the fire, even as it spread through his groin, biting and gnawing at his flesh. Something must be very wrong down there…

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