Chapter 8-1
605 Words
8Lucas
When I bring Yulia back into the living room, Goldberg has her stand while he feels her pulse and listens to her breathing with a stethoscope. “Good, good,” he mutters under his breath, jotting down something in his notebook.
He bends down to look at a big bruise on her knee, and Yulia shoots me an anxious glance. I can see that she wants answers, but I don’t give her any reassurance.
I don’t want the doctor to know how much I’ve softened toward my captive.
After a minute, Goldberg stops and gives Yulia a smile. “Just a few scrapes and bruises,” he says cheerfully. “You’re underweight and a little malnourished, but a few good meals should fix that. Now, I’d like to take some blood if you don’t mind. Please, have a seat.”
He points toward the couch, and Yulia glances at me again.
“Sit,” I bark, doing my best to ignore the distressed look that steals over her face as she complies.
Goldberg pulls on a pair of latex gloves and takes out a syringe with an attached vial. “This won’t be too bad,” he promises. I wonder if he’s trying to compensate for my harsh manner. He’s not usually this gentle with the guards—though, granted, none of them have Yulia’s fragile beauty.
She doesn’t wince or make a sound as the needle sinks into her skin, her expression one of stoic endurance. I, on the other hand, have to fight an irrational urge to tear Goldberg away from her.
I hate to see someone hurting her, even if it’s the doctor I brought here myself.
“All done,” Goldberg says, taking the needle out and pressing a small sterile pad to the wound. “I’ll take this to my lab for analysis. Now, one last thing…” He gives me an imploring look, and I respond with a curt shake of my head.
I’m not leaving him alone with Yulia; he’ll have to do the exam with me present.
Goldberg sighs and turns his attention back to her. “I have to perform a gynecological examination,” he says apologetically. “To make sure you’re okay.”
“What?” Yulia’s eyes widen. “Why?”
“Just do it.” I make my voice as hard as I can. I’m not about to explain that I’m worried I hurt her last night with my roughness. She had been wet, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t tear her or bruise her internally.
Her face is bright pink as she lies down on the couch, obeying Goldberg’s instructions. As the doctor pulls up her shirt and takes out a speculum, I force myself to stand still instead of ripping into the man for touching her. Goldberg is gay, but seeing his hands on her still awakens something savage in me—something that makes me want to murder any man who touches what’s mine.
The exam takes less than a minute. I watch Yulia carefully to make sure she doesn’t lash out at the doctor, but she lies still, her knees bent and her eyes trained on the ceiling. Only her hands betray her agitation; they’re clenched into white-knuckled fists at her sides.
When Goldberg is done, he carefully pulls down Yulia’s shirt and steps away. “All done,” he says, addressing us both. “Everything seems fine. The IUD is in place, so you have nothing to worry about.”
IUD? I frown at the doctor, but he’s already explaining, “An intrauterine contraceptive device. Birth control.”
“I see.” I give Yulia a speculative glance. If she’s protected and the doctor determines she’s clean, I could f**k her without a rubber.
My c**k twitches with instant arousal.
She sits up on the couch, staring straight ahead, and I see that her cheeks are still flaming with color. I want to embrace her and assure her that everything’s okay, that I didn’t do this to humiliate her, but now is not the time.
As far as the doctor knows, she’s a prisoner I despise, and I have to treat her as such.
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