Chapter 6

6

SEDONA

V ictor Cullen is a savage.

The raw aggression and violence should make me the sixth psychiatrist to drop him as a patient. Instead, watching him pummel Tom Reeves lights a fire in my chest and opens the floodgates between my thighs.

Sure, I want to run. Straight into his arms. Trip over and fall straight on his cock.

Thinking about him fucking me right now? Maybe there is something wrong with me.

"Victor, you need to stop. Guards are going to be here any second," I say in a commanding whisper, lest they're already outside and listening in.

Victor turns to me on mention of the approaching guards, red flecks of Tom's blood sprinkled across his face. "Fuck ‘em. This piece of shit touched you, and he's going to pay." He swings another wild fist at Tom's limp body. "I'm the only one who can touch you."

Something about the way he says those words makes the heat between my legs intensify.

"You're the only one I want touching me," I say. Hopefully, this will help snap him out of it.

Victor looks back at me, astonished, before my office door bursts open, and six men step inside. They're dressed in full riot gear. Two hold non-lethal shotguns, and they stand behind a wall of four carrying massive see-through shields.

"Get off of the patient and raise your hands in the air," one of them barks.

"Go fuck yourself." Victor spits in their direction. He's met by both shotguns firing in unison.

The beanbags hit Victor with enough force to knock him off balance. He roars a thunderous war cry and drops to his ass. But before he can react, the four shields are on him, with one of the two shotgun wielders tying his hands together with a zip tie.

"Nice of you guys to finally show up," Victor snarls.

The guard doesn't speak while he hoists Victor to his feet. Another attaches his shield over his shoulder, and together, the two grab Victor by the arm to drag him out of the room. As he walks, his eyes turn back to me. An impish smile flashes on his face, and before they get him through the door, he winks at me.

And like a schoolgirl with her first crush, my heart melts into my tummy.

"Are you okay, Dr. Quinn?" the only guard who didn't join in carrying Victor off asks. His shotgun is fixed on Tom's still body.

"Yes. I wasn't hurt."

"What the hell even happened here?" His question comes out more as dumbfounded than interrogatory. No doubt because a patient came to my rescue while they were in the locker room getting armed to the teeth.

"I don't know," I lie.

Of course I do. Victor all but said it. He's the only one who can touch me, and what little touching he did earlier was as close to a brand as he could mark me with.