Page 26 of Dark Goodbye

I contemplate not answering him, but what harm will it be if he knows? It’s not like he’s going to tell anyone. “Yes. I’m going to be the one handling you. Please refrain from speaking until I reset your jaw.”

That seems to get through to him. After a heavy sigh, the room goes silent, allowing me the freedom to think. Though he’s still heavily under the effects of the drugs, I know it’s not going to last much longer.

Walking over to the side of the gurney, I test the restraints once more, needing to reassure myself that he won’t be able to just bust through them. The longer he’s in here, the less I’ll have to worry. He’ll weaken within a matter of days. I just have to make it that long.

The jangle of the restraints seems to be the one thing that’s able to pierce that fog quicker than anything else. Once I let go, his hand is moving, testing the bonds, yanking and pulling when they don’t immediately fall apart.

His loud bellow thunders in the room, crashing on every surface so that it echoes back, amplifying it. If he thinks it will do anything to quell my desire to see him die, then he’s sorely mistaken. Chuckling under my breath, I go back over to the counter and finish prepping everything.

“Why am I restrained?” His voice is softer now, as if the roar took far too much out of him.

“You are a danger to yourself and others. It had to be done.”

His eyes glitter as I walk back over to him, looking like fiery demons in the antiquated lights. Turning his head this way and that, I look at his jaw, noting the spreading bruise, before palpating the injury.

Again, his growl rumbles through his chest, vibrating the air between us. “Aren’t you supposed to numb the area first, doctor?”

My lips twist up into a smirk as I grip his chin with one hand and pry open his mouth with the other. Before he can bite down on me, I press my thumb against the back molars and push down as my hand on the chin pushes up.

The crack as his jaw slides back into place is only smothered by the anguished, feral growl that spills from between his lips. Before he can spew any more vitriol, I reach into my pocket and pull out a specialized bandage, made to hold the jaw in place.

“I would numb it, however, since you seem to feel that analgesic agents are not necessary, I’m opting not to use them.” Malus draws in a breath, his eyes widening with what might be the first glimmer of fear.

Smirking, I wind the bandage as tightly as I can, effectively sealing his mouth shut. Though he can still move his lips, his jaw is immobile. This way, I can still hear every pained gasp, every wheezing cry, but I won’t have to tolerate any lies he might conjure to get me to let him go.

His wary gaze follows my every movement, and in the quiet of the room, his rapid heartbeat thunders out. “You’re a very sick man,” I murmur, grabbing the catheter from off of the counter. “It’s my job to make sure your illness doesn’t spread. I’m confining it to here.”

“You’re crazy.” His labored words wheeze out, muted by the lack of jaw movements.

“Amusing to me that you think that. Can we not agree that you’re the crazy one?” Not waiting for his response, I take the nearby scalpel and flash it in front of his eyes. Grunts and soft screams reach my ears as I lower the tool to his clothes and slice through them like they are nothing. “Come now,” I chide. “I haven’t even started hurting you yet. I’d save your screams for when they’re needed.”

Dispelling his clothes, I slide on some gloves and walk over to his limp cock, hanging impotently between his splayed thighs. Malus’s gaze darts between me and his dick, no doubt worried I’m going to chop it off.

His eyes are wide, frightened, like an injured animal preparing to strike. Reaching down, I hold his appendage in my hand and pull forward, holding it taut. Squeezing the sides, I watch as his urethra opening enlarges before setting the tip of the catheter at his slit.

“I know they taught us to lube this first, but we don’t need that, right?” Before Malus can answer, I shove the tip in as he thrashes about.

The old metal creaks and groans with every movement, but still holds firm. Inch by inch, I force the tubing into his body, smiling as urine finally spills out into the bag at the end of the gurney. Pushing it another inch or two, I stop and press the button to inflate it, locking it into place.

One step down, and just one more to go before I can place the IVs and get back home to Ladria. Despite the clinical detachment needed to do this and not go crazy myself, she’s at the forefront, the driving force, the angelic being on my shoulder coaxing me to cause Malus even more pain and humiliation.

Stepping back over to the counter, I grab a larger tube and walk it over toward Malus’s face, holding it up for him to see. The moment it dawns on him what I’m holding, he shakes his head, rocking it back and forth as sweat gathers on his brow.

“What was that?” I mock, leaning in closer to his lips. “You don’t want lube with this either? Your wish is my command.”

I walk down to the middle of the gurney and stare at the monster that hurt my mate, noting the tears shining in his eyes. Such a strong man, humbled enough to let tears slip through. As I stare at him, my mind and stomach begin to churn.

If I do this, if I truly go through with this, then I’m no better than him. What I thought was Ladria whispering in my ear, begging me to torture and defile this man for his crimes against her body, was actually nothing of the sort. It was my own depraved machinations that drove me to this point.

Ladria wouldn’t want this. Someone so pure and kind as her wouldn’t want another to sully their hands in this way to appease her. At least, the Ladria I knew wouldn’t… Could be she has changed, much like I have, but deep inside, I want to believe she’s still that same caring, innocent omega. I don’t want to believe anything less.

Dark whispers and echoes slither about in my brain as I stand there, poised, listening to Malus’s haggard breathing. It would be so easy to give in, to allow all the anger and rage to spill out on his person. I want to. Oh, gods how I want to. But I can’t.

I can’t stain myself in this way and then hope for someone as beautiful and innocent as Ladria to be my mate. Dropping the tubing to the floor, I race over to the counter and grip the metal hard enough to indent my skin and drive some sense into my body.

Malus must die; that’s not what’s being questioned. It’s the method. It’s the depravity. Not only does this fly in the face of everything I trained for as a Healer, the very idea of continuing feels like toxic sludge dripping into my brain, coating everything it touches.

The time I wasted with this needless planning. I could have been at home with Ladria, wooing her, convincing her to give me a chance. Hell, I could have been allowing my darkness a far more wholesome outlet by teasing and tormenting the omega that haunted my dreams ever since she left.