Chapter 20

The beeping sound of the machine is the first sound I hear when I wake up.

There’s a flurry of movement around me, and as I move my hand, I feel resistance. There’s something holding it in place.

“Mr. Spencer-Astor, you’ll hurt yourself.” A stern voice reprimands me, taking my hand and placing it by my side. “I’ll get the doctor to come look at you.”

I blink once. Twice.

White and blue swirl before my eyes, slowly taking the shape of people in scrubs.

Hospital.

This is a hospital.

And my arm is hooked to an IV.

“Minnie. Where’s Minnie?” I croak.

My throat is dry, and my voice comes out broken. It’s almost as if I’ve swallowed pieces of glass that embedded themselves into the walls of my throat.

I’m not sure when or how I ended up here, and frankly, I don’t care at this moment.

The only thing I’m concerned with is the fact that Minnie is not here. She’s not by my side, nor is she in my field of view.

And that’s a problem.

Gritting my teeth, I force myself to stand up. Once more, the IV holds me back and I pull with enough force to rip it.

Blood flows down my arm.

Fuck.

“Mr. Spencer-Astor!” a nurse exclaims, scandalized. She places herself in front of me, trying to get me to go back to bed.

Her lips are moving, but the words don’t register.

There’s a deafening pounding in my head that makes my vision shaky. Still, my focus is unperturbed.

Minnie.

I need to find Minnie.

Pushing the nurse aside, I pull the curtain to reveal a crowded ER.

“Minnie. Where’s my Minnie?” I call out, ignoring the jab of pain in my ribs as my lungs fill with air.

“Sir, please calm down,” another nurse yells at me.

“Where is she? I need to see her. Now,” I grit out.

The hospital is packed. That means there are tens if not hundreds of people around.

Men.

One look at Minnie and I know they’ll fall under her spell. Fuck, I have firsthand experience with it.

But there’s also the worry that she might be hurt, too. The last thing I remember was that we crashed the car, no? What if something happened to her?

“Minnie?” I shout, wildly looking around for any trace of her.

“Sir, please!”

People gather around me, and in the distance, I note security wading through the crowd and heading my way.

“I need to find her,” I say as I turn to one of the nurses. I mellow my tone so I don’t seem threatening—I won’t achieve anything if security takes me away.

“Who?”

“The girl who was with me. Please…”

“Is there a problem?” a man dressed in a security uniform inquires as he steps closer to me.

I weigh my options.

The nurses appear terrified—for good reason. One of them nods to the security guy and he comes toward me, ready to restrain me.

Fuck.

I could fight him. At my normal capacity, I wouldn’t have a problem winning.

But the pain in my ribs tells me I’m not at my normal capacity.

My entire body hurts, and there’s still blood flowing down my arm from the ripped IV.

The man stops in front of me. Two other security guards are behind me.

Since I’m not about to allow them to take me away or restrain me, I suppose all that’s left to do is fight.

Just as I’m about to throw the first punch, a melodic voice calls my name.

“Marlowe?”

I pivot, my breathing labored.

I blink a couple of times to make sure I’m not seeing things.

She’s there.

Minnie. My Minnie.

She’s wearing a face mask that obscures her features, and it appears to work because none of the men are yet in thrall with her.

She’s dressed in a hospital gown, and there’s a wide bandage wrapped around her forehead.

“Minnie,” I mutter breathlessly as I rush toward her. “Are you all right? What’s this? What happened?”

“Oh, this?” she says as she touches her bandage. “It’s just a bruise from when the airbags got deployed. You have one too,” she mentions. Reaching for me, she touches my forehead, tracing the contours of my own bandage.

“The airbags?” I frown. Images of the crash slowly come to me. But why did we crash?

I’m a good driver. I didn’t drink. The roads were in fairly good condition.

Flashes of a fog appear in my mind, but I shake my head as pain stabs at my temples.

“Are you all right?” she asks worriedly when she sees me wince.

“Yes, yes. But what happened? Why did we crash?”

“You…don’t remember?” she asks carefully.

I shake my head.

“Some animal ran in front of the car. You tried to avoid hitting it and the car slid off the road,” she exclaims. “Come. You need to take care of that.” She points to my bleeding arm.

Still out of it, I allow her to take me back to my hospital bed.

A female nurse comes to tend to my wound, but I instinctively shrink away, baring my teeth at her.

I hate people touching me, but this is more than that. I physically feel ill the closer she comes to me. And as she hovers over me, my stomach recoils.

I’m about to ask her not to touch me, but Minnie seemingly anticipates it as she intervenes.

Her arm shoots out and she stops the nurse.

“May we please have a male nurse treat my husband?” she asks in a sweet voice.

Husband.

She called me her husband. In a possessive way, too.

That’s my girl.

She not only claimed me publicly, but she also put on a mask to make sure no other male can witness her beauty. Of course the least I can do is ensure that no other female touches me, too. I’d say it’s a fair exchange.

My chest fills with pride—though that also sends a stab of pain to my ribs.

Alas, this is the type of pain I don’t mind.

The nurse is taken aback by the request. She frowns as she looks around for help—most likely trying to signal security again that we’re a couple of weirdos.

But if my Minnie is a weirdo, I don’t mind being one either.

I sigh as I glance at her. Another sharp pain erupts in my chest.

Beautiful, poised, and jealous. What more can a man ask for?

“We’re at full capacity, Mrs.,” the nurse replies uncertainly. “He needs to get his arm treated?—”

“I know, and I’m sorry to ask this of you. But my husband has a psychological condition that only gets worse if a female touches him. It’s for his own good, you understand.” The same sweet tone, but there’s a tacit threat in the way she’s staring at the nurse.

Fuck, that’s hot.

I’d tell her that, too, if it didn’t hurt to speak or move.

“She’s right,” I croak, followed by a groan of pain.

Minnie grabs my non-injured arm and places my hand in hers.

“Please?” She bats her lashes at the nurse.

The nurse sighs.

“I’ll see what I can do,” she mentions. “Until then, please apply pressure on the bleeding site.”

Minnie takes her duty seriously as she presses a bandage against the bleeding wound.

“You’re sure you’re fine?” I ask, studying her intently.

“Yes.” She rolls her eyes. “You should take care of yourself, first. How could you pull your IV out of your arm?” She tsks at me.

“You weren’t here,” I grumble.

She blinks, then looks away, blushing furiously. Even the mask cannot hide the redness that spreads up her face.

The male nurse comes over and takes care of my arm. I’m asked to undergo a few more tests to make sure my chest injuries are not life-threatening.

Oddly enough, only I’m forced to withstand a CAT scan. They barely pay attention to Minnie.

I argue with them, of course, demanding that they take care of her first. But I’m told she’s perfectly fine aside from that one scratch. That’s relieving. I vaguely remember taking her in my arms at the time of impact. That must have protected her quite well, a fact that makes me preen.

That should help her see that I’m the best match for her.

Rich—check.

Good-looking—check, if I do say so myself.

Smart—check, of course.

Strong—check as I’ve already proven it.

I can take care and provide for her, which considering how small and frail she is, that’s something she really needs.

Even that brother of hers is useless, leaving her alone in this wretched world that wants to take advantage of her. How could he do that? She’s his little sister, for fuck’s sake.

I don’t even want to imagine what would have happened if I hadn’t met her when I did.

She’d still be all alone and defenseless.

That thought awakens my rage all over again, making me tense—a mistake considering my entire body is bruised. Alas, my pain and suffering should show her how serious I am about her.

That’s not to say I’m in a hurry because I want to get in her dress. I mean, of course I do. It’s been all I could think of for the last couple of weeks. But I’ve lived close to thirty years as a monk. What’s a few more weeks?

Torture. That’s what it is.

I’ll need to make it days not weeks.

I might have been above temptation, but that was before she appeared into my life, showing me everything I’ve been missing.

A smile pulls at my lips, and once more, I’m told to stop moving or the CAT scan will not get a clear image.

I scowl.

It’s not my fault Minnie occupies all my waking thoughts.

It’s hers.

If anything, they should tell her off for making me take leave of my senses.

Hell, I should tell her off—again. And I would if I didn’t happen to like having her occupy my thoughts. I know, strange.

Even stranger is the fact that I don’t care anymore if she bewitched me or not, or if she fed me some type of magical potion to make me so obsessed with her. I’ve reached the point where I’m happy going with the flow. Frankly, I never even knew I had such a rich imagination before. But lately, the things my brain has managed to conjure up.

I whistle as I once more picture her in her maid outfit. But then the thought morphs, and I see her in a nurse outfit taking care of me, slowly, seductively…

“Sir! Stop moving!” the technician calls out.

I glance down at my tented pants.

Fuck.

Does he think I’m in control?

Not even thoughts of blood, or guts, or other bodily fluids staining my spotless floor can help me cool off at this point. On the contrary, I become even more excited at the thought of disemboweling every man who dares to look at my little heathen.

“Sir!” Another exasperated cry from the technician.

I sigh. It’s going to be a long night.

Eventually, though, I manage to stay still long enough for the machine to do its thing. The results are good—bruised ribs but nothing broken. I’m given a bag of painkillers and the doctors discharge both Minnie and me.

Since my car is totaled, we take a cab home.

The pain is manageable at this point thanks to the pills, but my body is still sore. Minnie, on the other hand, is as spry as ever.

“Are you all right?” she asks worriedly as we make it inside the house. “Do you need anything?”

She’s taken her mask off and is now regaling me with her full-on blinding beauty.

I smile like a fool.

“Marlowe? Did you hear me?”

“Agh, it hurts so much,” I whine when I note this might be my chance to fulfill that one fantasy I got inside the CAT machine.

“It does? Where? We should get you to bed,” Minnie hurries to say.

I slouch and limp up the stairs, gaining more sympathy points from her.

I’m not that bad. But she doesn’t need to know that.

She takes me to my room and settles me on the bed before rushing to get me a glass of water.

I pretend to be unable to swallow—my throat hurts, but not as bad as before.

Her features tense and she panics.

“What can I do to help?” she asks in a small voice.

My lips flatten, and I pull my features into a pained grimace.

“Maybe… No, it’s nothing…” I trail off.

“What is it? Tell me and I’ll do it!”

“You’re injured too. It wouldn’t feel right.” I sigh and turn my head to the other side.

“You heard the doctor. I’m perfectly fine. Tell me what you need, Marlowe,” she hurries to say. “I feel great. My head doesn’t even hurt. I can do anything.”

She speaks with such conviction, I feel slightly guilty for my pretense—only just slightly.

I clear my throat, letting out a rough groan of pain.

She’s once more by my side, assessing me with a frantic expression.

“I’m cold,” I say and let out a visible shiver. The goal is to get her to warm me up with her body—though I don’t know how amenable she would be to that considering her no touching rule before marriage, whatever that may mean. I’m still a little confused about her reasoning about that.

She kissed my cheek! That counts as touching, no?

Minnie is an enigma.

One moment she seems into me, the next she takes a step back and puts up boundaries.

I can never tell what really goes through her mind, or if she’s been staying with me just because she has nowhere else to go—and the chocolate cookies, of course. Even if that were the case, I’m happy to give her chocolate cookies for the rest of her life as long as she remains by my side.

It’s an odd realization for someone who’s always preferred solitude. But since she’s come into my life, I’ve seen myself change. And the biggest change is the fact that I’m experiencing happiness for the first time ever.

She quickly gets a couple of blankets and places them atop me.

“Better?”

I shake my head.

“Still cold.”

Her brows bunch together. She bites her lips as she looks at me.

Going back to the drawer, she takes out another blanket and packs it on top of the others.

Fuck, that’s hot. Almost too warm, and I love being hot.

“Now?”

I shake my head again.

She glances at the empty drawer. Good, maybe now that there are no more blankets, she’ll get a hint.

I expect her to suggest to lend me some of her body heat. I’m waiting for it with my heart in my throat. Of course I’d prefer her to be naked when she does that, but for now, I’ll take any crumb she gives me.

She debates with herself for a few moments and I see the wheels spinning in her mind. Soon, she’ll reach the unavoidable conclusion.

I’m bracing myself for it while doing my best to temper my excitement.

She finally nods to herself, but instead of climbing in bed next to me, she dashes out of the room.

I frown. But within seconds, she’s back with another blanket—her own.

She places it on top of the others and smiles to herself, satisfied.

“Warm now?”

It’s almost insufferably hot, but I shake my head.

“Oh no! You must be really sick, Marlowe. What are we going to do?” she whispers, her features torn. “There are no more blankets…”

I clear my throat.

“In the past, people used to warm each other with their bodies,” I add slowly.

She stares at me, her lips parting in surprise.

“You mean… But…”

“It’s fine, it’s fine.” I sigh and turn my head to the side.

Her breathing picks up as she contemplates what to do.

It might be manipulative of me to do this, but one thing I’ve learned about Minnie is that she likes to help. If she’s willing to put herself in harm’s way for a puppy, surely she should be willing to help an ailing man.

I release another heavy, pointed sigh.

“Is it that bad?” she asks in a small voice.

“I’ll be fine,” I mumble. Then feign a cough. That does hurt since my throat is still somewhat sore.

The minutes trickle by. Her indecision hangs in the air.

Then, without a word, she picks up the heavy blankets and slides under them.

At first, she’s tentative about it. She doesn’t come near me, maintaining a small distance between us.

I shiver intentionally and she slides closer. But still not as close as I’d like.

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” I add weakly.

“It’s not that I don’t want to…” She trails off.

I turn on my side so I can look at her.

She’s on her back, staring at the ceiling. The blankets are up to her neck, leaving only her beautiful face for me to feast on.

Now I understand why so many men become enchanted with her at first sight. It might not have been as instantaneous for me, but that’s likely because I’m a blind idiot.

She’s stunning.

All sunshine and warmth, and I so desperately need that warmth.

“But?”

She bites her lip as she slowly turns on her side too, her gaze meeting mine.

There are still a few inches of separation between us, but at this point, they feel like a wide ocean. I’ve never been fond of swimming—too cold. But for her, I might be willing to do it.

“I want to and at the same time I’m scared of getting too close,” she confesses on a whisper.

“Why?”

“Because only tragedy awaits then.” She gives me a sad smile.

I stare at her.

“Minnie, I hope you’re not scared I’m going to hurt you,” I suddenly say. I never realized this might be something I need to address, but given my proclivities, I suppose she has reason to be afraid. “I may kill people, but I will not kill you,” I tell her. “Granted, I did at one point want to kill you, but not anymore. You should feel honored.” I nod at her.

She blinks.

“You…wanted to kill me?” she repeats in disbelief.

“Well, only at the beginning. And for about a week or so after I met you. But I’ve come to my senses.” I smile, waiting for her to realize how lucky she is.

She doesn’t say a word. She just stares at me, so I feel compelled to clarify.

“I don’t normally kill women. In fact, you were going to be my first female victim. That in itself is an honor, too.”

“You don’t kill women but you wanted to kill me?” she asks slowly, her expression slowly morphing into one of outrage.

“You’re taking it all wrong. I was about to make an exception for you,” I explain.

“I don’t see how that should flatter me,” she mutters in a dry voice.

“Well, you have to admit that when you first moved in, you were dirty and smelly. Let’s not forget you ate from dumpsters, which by the way, I have never heard something so obscene before.” That makes me pause. “I hope you brushed your teeth before you kissed my cheek that time,” I add, narrowing my eyes at her.

“Marlowe! Even sick you manage to be an asshole,” she cries out.

“But it’s the truth! Would you prefer I lied to you?”

Okay, maybe I’m still not the best with words seeing as all I say offends her.

“Not everything needs to be said aloud,” she chides.

“But I’m telling you this so you know how special you are. I’ve accepted you even though you have a not so clean past, although I do appreciate you’ve started to wash daily. And your cleaning technique has vastly improved.”

Her mouth drops open in shock. I still have not received my answer regarding whether she brushed her teeth before she kissed me on the cheek, but I fear it might not be in my advantage to ask again.

“You just told me you wanted to kill me!”

“And that in itself is special since I don’t kill women! I would have given you a very special death!”

“Special death? And pray, what would a special death look like?” She narrows her eyes at me.

“Well, you’re not bad to look at, so I would have embalmed you. I wouldn’t have frozen you, though, since I hate the cold, and my previous experiments with freezers failed. But I would have found a way to keep you alive-looking and?—”

She presses her finger against my lips to shush me.

“I think it’s in your best interest to stop talking,” she mutters.

“But you need to understand. Both the fact that you would have been my first female victim and the fact that I decided not to kill you despite your state of uncleanliness makes you very special to me. I wouldn’t make these allowances for just anybody…”

She presses her fingers insistently against my lips, stopping me mid-sentence.

“You’re a very odd man, Marlowe.”

I grab her finger, holding it in place. Parting my lips over the tip, I suck it in my mouth. I don’t even pause to wonder what she might have touched with said finger. In fact, I rather hope it was a certain part of her body, thereby allowing me to taste what is otherwise forbidden.

Her eyes widen and she freezes. Her chest rises and falls with every labored breath and I find myself getting lost in those black eyes of hers. They’re so dark, they resemble an obsidian mirror; one with mystical abilities that has the power to suck my soul right out of my body and consume it.

The moment is broken when she yanks her hand back and scoots over, putting even more distance between us. She swallows hard, and I note she’s as rattled as I am.

“You’re a very odd woman, too, Minnie. In fact, considering all the secrecy surrounding you, the fact that you’re here, in my bed, and not in my basement, is a wonder in itself.”

“You should sleep,” she mumbles, turning with her back to me. “You’re sick and cold and you need rest.”

That’s the last thing she says to me before silence envelops us.

I stare at the back of her head for moments on end, wanting to say more but being afraid of saying all the wrong things.

She confounds me to no end.

With a long, tired sigh, I get comfortable under the blankets—a little hard to do considering it’s sweltering hot with four blankets on, and the added weight puts too much pressure on my battered ribs. Eventually, though, I fall asleep.

As soon as I close my eyes, though, strange images assail me. Flashes of strange creatures and dark shadows seeking to hurt Minnie. This all morphs into a clearer picture as I find myself back at the scene of the accident.

“They have arrived,” Minnie says, right before both doors of the car are yanked by an invisible force.