Page 54 of Driven By Dragonblood
Idrank like I was in college again, goddamn whiskey straight from the bottle, and I ended up retching and hugging the toilet long into the early morning hours. Half-sober, I lay on my bed, staring at the dark ceiling, wondering how the fuck Jessie could guzzle booze like that almost every night.
Grimacing, I focused on what needed figuring out in my head rather than my past.
The desire to be close to Jax was stronger than an hour earlier, refusing to lessen with drunkenness or time. Blowing my more-than-usual load down his throat was more fulfilling than anything I’d done. I wanted him on his knees again.
Yessss.
I closed my eyes, but rather than meditate to silence the voice that had weaseled its way out of prison while I’d been puking my guts up, I relaxed my hold on the void.
Nothing could go wrong in the privacy of my own home, I told myself, and I was strong enough to communicate with whatever it was without losing control.
Maybe answers could be found by not exactly embracing the madness but offering it a little freedom.
Like a sleek creature, shimmering in iridescent light, the voice, that innerbeast, stretched. I allowed him to flow through my consciousness, and words I didn’t understand filled my inner ear.
Images flashed in my mind—Jaxon chained in the center of a room, sweat-slickened skin, his dick dripping pre-cum to the floor, every lash of a flogger I wielded parting his lips on a groan.
My dick stiffened.
Primrose sprawled on my bed, my face between her thighs, my tongue buried in her pussy while Jaxon watched, panting and dripping with the release I denied him.
Mine.
Ours.
The hypnotic hiss reached through my mind, and I considered the truth it spoke. Two youngsters—one male, one female—belonged to me. Fated mates according to Jaxon, half animal shifters, destined to bond regardless of what the humans’ consciousness might wish.
Too much of an age gap; they’re mere children, I told myself as unease over a complete lack of scientific truth crept in. Inappropriate as well. A previous patient of mine, even if only for a day, so he was completely off-limits for that reason alone.
Shame over my desires filled that conscious wish to remain aloof, closed off to the mystical world Jaxon had painted in my head with his enticing words. My body, my heart, however, warred with what would be considered wrong in most humans’ eyes.
“You’re a professional with an ethical path set before you,” I muttered to myself, clenching my eyes shut and rolling to punch my pillow. I breathed deeply, meditating andenvisioning the prison inside me as I should have done the previous hour, shutting out the existence of that damnthinginside my soul that wished to lead me into darkness.
He slowly disappeared in sparkling, black light, screaming at my strength—his weakness. The walls slammed shut around him, and I breathed a sigh of relief as my muscles finally grew lax atop my mattress.
Sanity saved.
For the time being.
A coffee mug sat before me at the kitchen table, but I hadn’t touched it. My insides twisted, and not from alcohol’s lingering effects. The darkness I’d allowed to sneak out the previous evening fought for freedom, begged to be heard, its purr and murmured pleas like a tickling whisper between my ears the second I’d woken up from a feverish, dream-filled night.
My pounding head, weakened by my hangover, was an affliction I wouldn’t wish on anyone.
I stood and strode back upstairs, needing to rid myself of the madness lingering along the edges of my mind. A cold shower didn’t ease my aching balls or dick, and I shot another ridiculous amount of cum down the drain to fantasies of Jaxon and Primrose bowing before me.
Jaw aching from clenching since I’d turned off my alarm, I arrived at Lockwood Monday morning, determined to go about my day, same as every other—work, professional empathy, and a desire to help those in need. That was what had driven me for most of my life, but I found as the hours trickled by that I couldn’t keep my focus as I used to.
The need to fuck, to own, toclaim, brewed in my balls, but I withheld from jerking off in the office bathroom like ahorny teenager who didn’t know the meaning of the word self-control.
Jaxon began his job bagging groceries today at the store a few blocks away from the apartment Doc Holliday had helped him acquire. I wondered, while leafing through and not paying attention to my next patient’s file, if Jaxon enjoyed smiling and chatting with all the ladies—and jealousy burned my gut.
I tossed my pen onto my desk and pinched the bridge of my nose beneath my glasses.
“Doctor Macaire?”
The timid voice lifted my head. A petite blonde girl, perhaps thirteen or so and matching the image in the open folder’s picture, stood in the open doorway of my office.
“Are you Emelia?” I asked, forcing a smile and standing.
