The devil doctor *Completed*

Playing naughty doctor

*Wicky*

I should be terrified of the huge hulk of a man in my entryway, but his gentle smile is reassuring. It helps that Billy is beside him. I’m familiar with Inspector Jamie Swindler; he has quite a reputation for solving crimes, but we’ve never been formally introduced until now.

“Bill says you’ve had a bit of a problem with items disappearing from your safe. I’d like to examine it.”

“Yes, of course. It’s in my bedchamber.”

He holds up a finger. “When we get there, don’t tell me where it is. Allow me the fun of ferretting it out for myself.”

As I climb the stairs, Swindler follows behind while Billy walks beside me.

“He’s very good at what he does,” Billy says.

“So I’ve heard, although I do find his notion of what constitutes fun a bit odd.”

Billy chuckles low. “He loves solving a good mystery, even if it’s little more than searching for a safe.”

“Well, I do hope he solves our mystery quite quickly. I couldn’t relax enough to go to sleep after I returned here last night.”

I lead them into my bedchamber. Billy stands beside me while Swindler steps into the room, gives a quick glance around, and walks straight over to a painting, lifts the frame off the nail, and reveals the safe.

“How did you know?” I ask, as he leans the painting against the wall. “There are other pictures about.”

“Yes, but they were placed with the intent of complementing the décor of the room. This one was placed to hide something, so it looks slightly out of place. Who has a key?” he asks as he reaches into his coat pocket and withdraws a small pouch. Opening it, he removes a couple of long, slender instruments.

“Only I do.”

“None of the servants? No one else?”

“No.”

He nods, “Has anyone else ever possessed the key?”

“Only my mate.”

He and Billy exchange a glance.

“But he’s dead,” I feel compelled to add.

“Do you know where his key is?”

I rub my forehead, where an ache is beginning to take hold. “No, I don’t. I went through his belongings, but I don’t recall seeing it.”

“So someone might have taken it,” he answers distractedly as he works the instruments into the keyhole. I hear a snap and the door opens a c***k. He opens it further. “A rather simple lock system. Anyone could have broken into it.”

“And relocked it?” Billy asks.

“That might have proven tricky. We’ll see about replacing this with something that will guard your valuables better.”

“I suppose there is some comfort in knowing anyone could have run off with it,” I say. “But why didn’t they?”

Swindler shrugs. “That I can’t answer, my Luna. Bill says you don’t suspect the servants, so it’s quite possible someone managed to get inside without anyone seeing. We’ll want to change the locks on all the doors as well.”

“Yes, all right. Have you had other reports of incidents such as this?”

“Something similar, yes. But not to worry, the Alpha agency is on it.”

Swindler leaves, but Billy stays, suggesting that I show him the plans for the hospital I mentioned the night before. I take him to my study. It’s much smaller than Riverdale’s, the furniture more dainty. It looks out on the gardens. With the draperies pulled back, sunlight pours in. I’ve never felt comfortable in Riverdale’s library. Everything is so dark, the furniture bold and intimidating.

“After the success of last year’s ball, I took the liberty of hiring an architect.” I go behind the desk, pick up a scroll, and begin rolling it across the top of my desk. “I know I might have been a bit premature…”

“It’s fine, My Luna. You’re providing the funds. You can handle the building of the hospital however you wish.”

He comes to stand behind me, looking over my shoulder. Good Goddess, he’s so wonderfully tall that he’s probably peering over the top of my head. I arrange a marble paperweight on one corner of the parchment. Leaning over, he reaches toward an inkwell. I am acutely aware of the press of his chest to my back, the curve of his body around mine. Very slowly, as though we have the remainder of our lives, he sets the glass container on the opposite corner of the scroll. Then he places his hand on the other corner to stop it from curling up.

“That should be all we need,” he says quietly, and I feel the brush of his warm breath across my temple.

I can think of a good deal more that I need: a touch, a kiss, a caress. Rubbing the bridge of my nose, I fight to concentrate on the lines spread out before me. “I’m not sure of all the details, but it has surgical rooms and a separate area for isolating those who are contagious.”

“I like that idea. What do you think of having a separate wing for children? It seems as though they should have their own area.”

I feel a tiny bubble of joy burst within my chest. Riverdale has never asked my opinion on anything. He’s always told me how things were to be. I especially like that Billy is thinking of the little ones. “It’s a splendid notion. I think it should be right here.” I place my finger on the far end of the building. He wraps his hand around it.

“I can think of no place better.”

My voice tries to lodge in my throat, but I won’t let it. I want to speak to him; I want to tell him everything. “And gardens. Lovely gardens where people can walk as they’re recovering. I remember the walks you would take me on, insisting I needed them to regain my strength.” Hesitating to say the next words, I swallow hard. Riverdale would have laughed at such silliness, but Billy isn’t Riverdale. Still, if he laughs, I will be incredibly hurt. But I have to risk it. I have tried to shape myself into what Riverdale wanted and failed miserably. I need someone who accepts me as I am. “They became my favorite part of the day.”

Tenderly, he curls his hand below my chin and turns my face toward him until he’s able to capture my gaze. “They were my favorite part of the day as well.”

I don’t know quite what to say to that admission. After last night, I’ve dared to hope that I mean something special to him, but we are so very different in rank and purpose. I consider suggesting that we go for a walk now, but I don’t want to move away from where I am. So near to him. He smells of sandalwood. His jaw and cheeks are smooth. He’s shaved before he came to see me. His hair curls wildly about his head, and I wonder if he ever tries to tame it, then decide he wouldn’t look like himself without the wildness.

With his thumb, he strokes my lower lip. His blue eyes darken. I watch the muscles of his throat work as he swallows. Leaning in, he lowers his mouth to mine. I rise up on my toes to meet him, inviting him to possess, plunder, have his way.

I become lost in the sensations of his mouth playing over mine, vaguely aware of him twisting me around so we are facing each other. As I skim my hands up over his shoulders, his arms come around me, drawing me nearer. He is a man of nimble fingers, skilled hands that ease hurts and injuries and ward off death. He has mended me with those hands, and now with his lips he is mending me further.

Suddenly changing the angle of his mouth, he deepens the kiss, his tongue hungrily exploring, enticing me to take my own journey of discovery. He tastes of peppermint. I can well imagine him keeping the hard candies in his pocket to hand to children in order to ease their fears. Snitching one for himself every now and then.

He folds his hands around the sides of my waist and, without breaking his mouth from mine, lifts me onto the desk. Parchment crackles beneath me. I know I should be worried that we are ruining the plans for the hospital, but I seem unable to care about anything beyond the wondrous sensations that he is bringing to life.

Riverdale has never kissed me with such enthusiasm, such resolve. I feel as though Billy is determined to devour me, and that it will be one of the most wondrous experiences of my life.

Hiking my skirts up over my knees, he wedges himself between my thighs. Very slowly, he lowers my back to the desk until I am sprawled over it like some wanton. On the desk! I have never known this sort of activity could occur anywhere other than the bed. It is wicked, exciting, intriguing. Surely he doesn’t mean to do more than kiss me, not that I am opposed to him going further.

I’ve gone so long without a caress, without being desired, without having passions stirred. I feel at once terrified and joyful while pleasure curls through me.

As he drags his mouth along my throat, he begins undoing buttons, giving himself access to more skin. He nips at my collarbone, circles his tongue in the hollow at my throat. I plow my fingers through his golden locks, relishing the soft curls as they wind around my fingers.

More buttons are unfastened. I sigh as he trails his mouth and tongue along the upper swells of my breasts. Heat pools deep within me. I wrap my legs around his hips, taking surcease from the pressure of him against me. He moans low, more a growl than anything as he presses a kiss in the dip between my breasts.

Dear Goddess help me, but I want to feel his touch over all of me.

Peeling back my bodice, he begins loosening the ribbons on my chemise. In the distance, someplace far far away, I think I hear a door open.

“The Luna…” My butler begins and stops.

“Wicky?” Evangeline’s voice brings me crashing back to reality.