Page 39 of Forbidden Bond

“Stop using that word, I don’t want to hear that name.” Strange how nauseating it was to hear the name she’d been called her whole life. “I want to get out of here.”

The tube in her arm connected to a bag of liquid on a stand. Didn’t fucking matter, she’d tear off her own limb before living without him for another second. She dragged off the tape.

“Don’t!” the stranger insisted, fighting against her as she tried to pull at the tether. “Please, Miss McLeod, you’ll hurt yourself.”

“Leave me alone. Stop touching me.” She swatted at his hands. “Let go of me!”

“You heard her.”

And just like that her heart shattered. Whipping around, she couldn’t breathe in the unknown reality.

“Mo Grá,” the whisper crossed her lips, mired in disbelief.

It wasn’t just that her guy was there, he stood tall, alive, astute, exactly the man she remembered. Every bit as delicious and intimidating.

“Split, doc,” Conn said, his eyes settling on hers.

Doing as told, the stranger, the doctor, left, closing the door behind him.

“I need to get this thing out—”

“Hold,” Conn said.

She stopped to look at him again; that glare wasn’t usually fixed on her.

“I did what I was told,” she said. “Went to our bedroom and—why didn’t you come to me, Mo Grá?”

“I don’t answer your questions.”

Something was different. Something was wrong. Wrong beyond the point of unsettling. Why was he still over there by the door?

When her eyes closed again, she didn’t want to open them. “At least I know.”

Hollowed out in the space of a blink, knowledge didn’t always lead to enlightenment… or satisfaction. With one long tug, she yanked the tube from her arm, feeling absolutely nothing.

Clambering to her feet, the room spun, yet there he was beside her, steadying her. His hand on her arm was a bliss she’d never feel again. The strength of that grip, the security of him.

This. Him. How could she ever go on without him?

With a yank the other way, he put her back on her ass on the bed. “Stay there.”

“I’m sorry, Conn.” His shirt. Her body was covered by his shirt, though it wasn’t the same one she’d put on in the closet. “I know that doesn’t cover it, that no words will ever—”

“The loft is being transferred into your name.” He’d gone back to the door. “It, and everything in it, belong to you now.Money has been put in your bank account, and you’ll get a payment every month.”

“A payment every month…” Gradually, her senses returned, but they didn’t help her understand. Was it a fog caused by the drugs? “Why would I—I don’t understand.”

“The McDades will look after you. Financially.” As opposed to… “You have our sincere apologies for the failure.”

“Failure…” the whisper came out on an exhale, though her eyes closed as her head shook. She squinted at him. “Baby, I don’t understand what—”

“You are free of McDade constraints. Stag will remain open to you. We will never take that away from you, but… be smart with it.”

Those four words were the closest she’d heard him to normality yet. “Conn…” Climbing onto the bed on her knees, she sat on her feet. “Can we maybe talk about this later?”

When up was up again, hopefully.

“Aye.”

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