The Alpha's Woman by Carolyn Faulkner

Author:Carolyn Faulkner [Faulkner, Carolyn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blushing Books Publications
Published: 2017-07-11T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 6

"Stay still! Jesus Christ!" she admonished, knowing that if he didn't choose to, there was no way she could make him.

It was days later, and she had finally been able to coerce him into sitting down for five seconds to let her examine the wound she'd seen near his shoulder. The one she'd been carefully nagging him about letting her care for – or at the very least that he get himself seen by one of the "doctors" – for the past week or so.

Finally, he found the time in his busy schedule – as well as somehow managing to accrue the things necessary for her to treat him – to shirk out of his shirt and take his seat at the small table. Which really wasn't all that small, it just looked that way next to his imposing bulk – all while wearing a slightly amused expression that only deepened as she hovered around him, tsking and cringing every time she had to touch him, knowing she was hurting him.

Why she should react like that about him, she would never know. It wasn't as if he cringed when he spanked her or when he fucked her. But, as hard as she tried, she couldn't seem to prevent it. It was most unprofessional, and it only got worse once she had prepared him to the point where she was going to stitch up the wound. She knew she had to pierce him with the curved needle she'd been waiting for him to filch from somewhere for just this purpose.

Granted, it wasn't as if she'd done this a million times before – she hadn't. She'd done a surgical rotation and had stitched up some wounds, but this one was quite deep, and her equipment so poor – there would be no dulling what was bound to be the excruciating pain she was going to have to put him through.

Then, what she considered the worst thing that could possibly happen, happened. She was pinching his flesh as tightly together as she could with one hand – knowing that was hurting him, too, and holding the threaded needle in the other, and she began to cry.

A big, wet blotch appeared on his upper arm, and then another on his shoulder, much too close to the wound for her comfort. She leaned back, away from him, setting the equipment down on the table and covering her eyes with her hands, which meant she was just going to have to wash them again when she finally decided to buck up and do what she needed to do.

"What is it, Emmy?" he asked, and she knew that he was quite concerned for her by the soft, questioning tone of his voice and the fact that he called her by name. Names seemed to have lost some of their power in this era. He'd never even formally told her his, although he must've known she knew it.

He tugged at her wrists, and she resisted him as

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