"A massage?"
The words barely escaped my lips, coming out in a thin, shaky whisper. My legs felt like they were made of jelly, and I could hardly stand still without my knees knocking together. My heart wasn't just beating; it was jumping wildly against my ribs like a trapped, panicked bird fluttering its wings inside a broken cage. I stared at him, my eyes wide, trying to figure out if he was joking, but his face remained a mask of cold stone.
"Exactly," he replied, his tone chillingly smooth. He sounded incredibly calm, as if he were simply discussing the afternoon weather instead of something so intimate. He leaned back slightly, his dark eyes tracking the fear on my face. "I don't usually like being touched, and I certainly don't care for massages. But since you are my medicine... it
