70. Cohen

70

COHEN

I continued our little sessions for the next three days. Sedating and securing Emily to my surgical table. Inseminating her with my carefully collected… supply and fucking it deep into her cunt. Refusing to waste a drop. Even going as far as scooping up whatever was left over and shoving it back inside her. Drawing my fingers in and out until she was squirming against my hand, cursing my name as much as she was begging me not to stop. Which was just more proof I knew what she wanted far better than she did.

The girl was fucking stubborn. So I did my best to fuck that stubbornness out of her.

Truth was I didn't need to keep her strapped to my table for more than a day. The ovulation window thirty-two hours max. But even the most skilled physician knew it was only practical to give yourself a little buffer room. Biology was one of those areas that had a lot of shades of gray while the human body was as much a guessing game as it was an exact science.

But Emily's body? There was no mystery there. It was the kind of puzzle I had all the pieces to. Especially now as I stared down at layer after layer of her unmarked skin. Just waiting for me to claim it as mine as I pulled up a stool and positioned myself between her splayed legs. Her angled knees opening her wide for my viewing pleasure. Every part of her screaming at me to claim it as mine. Until there was no doubting it ever again.

I mean, the things she'd forced me to do for her. The lives I took, the frozen cadavers I'd cut up and the viable organs I'd wasted. The evidence I'd burned and the time I'd lost. No matter what I did, it never seemed like it was enough.

The thought had me reaching for an alcohol swab, my fingers making quick work of prepping the area to reduce the chances of infection. Wiping down the incision point with some clean gauze before swapping that out for my scalpel.

This time my pet would come to with a different surge of adrenaline, brought on by her central nervous system's natural pain receptors rather than forced on by a hypodermic needle, as I took the first slice into her pliant flesh. The elasticity telling me it was healthy as I cut past the epidermis and headed for the spongier subcutaneous tissue before her eyes were snapping open and she was flailing against her restraints.

There she was, the hellion behind the halo.

"Careful, pet, or I might slip," I hummed through my surgical mask, my eye focused on the task at hand rather than my disgruntled patient as my steadied blade hovered just above her femoral artery. The slightest nick could turn a little knife play into straight-up exsanguination.

And no one wanted that, now did they?

She couldn't see what I was doing but I was certain she could feel it as each fresh stream of blood added to the one next to it, collectively pooling on the surgical pad I'd placed under her leg. Almost as if my subconscious knew what I was planning before I did.

When the string of expletives turned to a softened plea, my lips curled into a grin. I fucking loved how weak her voice sounded. Knowing that I'd broken her even momentarily.

"Cohen, please…" Her breath hitched on a silent sob as my blade made the final curve of the C. Then shifted over two centimeters and started on the first line of the M.

Why, look at that…

Now there was no second-guessing when it came to who she belonged to. Me. Mind and body . As for her soul, that was mine a long time ago. When I spent all those nights corrupting her. Ensuring the only place she was going was down. On me.

You see, I didn't believe in an afterlife. ?Cause if I did, we were all fucked.

"Stay perfectly still or you'll ruin your clothes."

"What did you do, Cohen?" she hissed, gnashing her teeth as she attempted to chew through her restraints. She wouldn't get very far. It was medical-grade, used to keep a noncompliant patient strapped to their hospital bed. And my little hellcat was the epitome of noncompliant, teetering dangerously close to downright disrespectful.

"What I should have done a long time ago." Ask a vague question, get a vague answer. My pet should have known better by now. She tried to play that game with me already and we saw how far that got her.

I glanced down at the sundress I'd presented her with today, canting my head to one side as I watched the red seep into the white fabric. It was fitting really. This woman was as much a stain on my sanity as I was a mark on her flesh. Then pushed up from my stool before slipping inside the med supply closet. Grabbing a bottle of iodine and some liquid skin adhesive. Both of which I'd use to ensure proper scarification of the wound.

Healing would be an extensive process, an art form that required a proper balance between staving off infection and ensuring the flesh remained as damaged as possible.

I'd hate to have to start over on the other thigh.