Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 65167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
I yank it back from her. “If you don’t mind, I’m in a hurry. We’ve got emergencies in the ER.”
“Emergencies?”
Seriously? “Uh…yeah. That’s why they call it the emergency room.” I walk past her and into the blood bank, expecting her to go on her way.
Instead, she watches me.
She watches as I scan the shelves, find a pouch of O neg, and take it.
She watches as I walk out of the blood bank, close the door, and head through the pathology department.
Damn. Is she going to watch me drink it too? Because then I’ll definitely have to use mind control.
I move quickly, the blood in the bag calling to me. It’s not Rogan’s, but it’s still blood, and the metallic scent of iron wafts through the plastic pouch and makes it to my nose. I wander back to the supply closet where I stashed the duffel, but then I rethink that move.
Anyone could walk into the closet. I’m better off in a bathroom stall. I duck into the first women’s room I find and grab a stall. I wait until the one other person inside is done washing her hands and then tear the bag open with my teeth, hold it to my mouth, and drink.
Damn.
Rotgut compared to Rogan, but I’m desperate. At least it will provide the nutrients I need for my baby. Once I’ve drained the bag, I make sure the bathroom is still empty and then walk to the sink. Blood trickles from my lower lip. I swipe it away with my hand and then splash water over my face, drying with paper towels that feel like sandpaper. Hospitals make a shit ton of money. Can’t they invest in decent paper products?
I throw the towels and the empty blood pouch in the trashcan and then head to maternity to request an ultrasound.
“I’m afraid we’re all booked up today, Ms. Bates,” the receptionist says. “Have you tried the ER?”
“The ER is for emergencies.”
“True, but since you’re an employee, they might make an exception if they’re not too busy today.”
“Fine. Thanks anyway.”
Not my first choice, but at least Margot won’t be there. I walk the winding hallways, my boots clacking on the tile floor, to the ER on the other side of the hospital. Most of the day shifters won’t know me anyway, and—
“Hannah, what are you doing here?”
Damn. Margot Lehman. Or Margot the maggot, as my friend Dill calls her. I call her Margot the Bitch.
“Hello, Margot.”
She stands, looking judgmental as usual, wearing her cutesy scrubs with kittens on them, her graying long hair pulled up in a tight ponytail. “Aren’t you on an extended leave?”
“I am.”
“What are you doing here, then?”
“I…had an appointment. What are you doing here?”
“They switched me to the day shift for a couple of months.”
Really? While I’m gone? They couldn’t have waited until I returned to get rid of her? “How nice for you.”
“Can I help you with anything?”
I open my mouth but then close it abruptly. No way am I going to ask Margot for an ultrasound. That will invite questions I don’t want to answer.
“No. I just thought I’d come in and say hi.”
“But no one on your shift is here.”
“You’re here. Hi, Margot.”
Margot shakes her head and walks off without so much as a “nice to see you.”
That’s okay. It’s not nice to see her, either.
I walk back to the main hospital to the closet where my duffel is stashed, and—
In a flash I’m pinned to the wall, a large hand covering my mouth as the door to the closet is kicked shut.
“Did you think I wouldn’t find you, princess?”
4
His voice.
That hungry rasp.
And his scent…
Oh, God, his fucking scent.
It’s only the pheromones, Hannah. You’re being manipulated. Your father did this to you. You don’t love this man, this wolf. It’s all in your body. Think with your head.
Except all I know is Rogan. His teeth scraping at my neck, his tongue gliding across my flesh, the warmth of his strong body melting against my own.
“What are you doing here?” he rasps against me. “Did you think I couldn’t find you? You’re in my body, princess. In my soul. And—” He inhales deeply, hold it. “My God… You’re… You’re…”
I use all my strength to pull away from him.
“Pregnant,” I say. “The word you’re looking for is pregnant, Rogan.”
“Fuck, Hannah…” He crushes his mouth down on mine.
It’s pointless to resist. My body is a slave to him as much as his is to me. It’s not real, but still it exists—that instinctual pull, that raw and feral desire and passion.
I open for him, let my tongue touch his, and the kiss becomes ravenous. I’m exposed, so exposed. This man drains myself from me, and I’m no longer Hannah.
I’m one with him, with Rogan.
And it’s got to stop.
I push him away, breaking the kiss with a loud pop. “Stop!”