Page 8 of Rust the Rejected
“Dr. Ingolf?”
Damn! Not again, Rust.
I shake my head to dispel the highly inappropriate vision, then turn to the nurse. I shift on my feet to adjust my burgeoning erection down my inner thigh. Thank fuck the white coat hides my cock. I use the patient file as an additional shield in front of my crotch. Then school my face despite the heat on my cheeks and clear my throat.
“Pardon. What did you say?”
In my periphery, Dr. Moore tilts her head as she inspects me. Onyx eyes narrow. Full lips purse.
The nurse eyes me, too. But he doesn’t comment on my lack of attention. Instead, he tips his chin towards the IV pole.
“I administered the morphine drip. Her pain level on a scale of one to ten dropped to a four. She’s ready for you to reset the bones. I can get the supplies you need.”
“Excellent, thank you,” I respond and turn to the patient—not your fantasy lover, Rust.“Dr. Moore, we will proceed…”
* * *
Natalie
Dr. Ingolf riles me.
“I’m sure it must shock you even as a doctor… I’ll help you.”
“Do you understand?”
“Words, Dr. Moore. I will have your verbal response.”
Who the hell does he think he is?! So condescending! I’m not some damsel in distress who needs a knight to ride up on his steed to save her from a horrible plight. Well, sort of. But that’s beside the point!
I’m a doctor. His equal. He owes me respect. The same he would afford a male doctor in my place. Not make me feel small and dependent upon the heroic Dr. Ingolf!
Males. They always put themselves above females. Think they know better for us than we do for ourselves. Speak to us in any manner they choose. Expect us to bow down to them. Controlling so and so Dr. Ingolf!
And no, his dazzling golden-flecked hazel eyes do not make my heart flutter in the least. Nor do my fingers flex to remove the hair tie and tangle in his thick, shoulder-length hair the color of dark ginger. His innate air of command does absolutely nothing for my nether bits.
All I experience is annoyance added to my pain.
“Ooooo!”
His hands pause as he realigns the bones in my arm. Even with the morphine drip direct in my vein, the movement of the fractured bones proves excruciating. No matter the tenderness with which Dr. Ingolf handles my arm, it still aches. Badly.
My enhanced wolf healing ability spoiled me. In all my youth of racing up steep mountainsides, leaping over felled trees in the forest, and charging across open fields, not one scrape or sprain set me back. Within hours, I healed completely. Even the scars faded to nothing. And I was off for another romp with my friends. Blissfully unaware of the amount of suffering my body could experience without my enhanced nature.
“Are you still with me, Dr. Moore?”
My eyes peek open at the sound of Dr. Ingolf’s smooth baritone voice.Thoseeyes scan my face to gauge my discomfort. I whimper. Lost for a moment in their depths, I stare, no longer mindful of my disdain for the male. Until he opens his mouth again…
“The morphine only dulls the pain so much. Of course, it hurts. It’s not easy.”
Gah!
I growl low in my throat as my eyes narrow on him. I want to gnash my teeth. On his arm! Damn the male for sounding just like Sam! Unbelievable. Obnoxious. Rude. Oaf!
The descriptions roll nonstop in my mind as I grind my molars to prevent another whimper from my mouth. I will not give the good doctor any satisfaction of witnessing my torture, only for him to say something patronizing. Bedside manner, my ass.
I won’t even close my eyes. Instead, my gaze flits about the curtained area as I tune into my surroundings. A baby cries to my right. Its father’s murmurs of loving words reach my ears. Across from me, a human male in his late thirties holds his head between his hands. The nurse beside him asks questions about his motorcycle accident. A doctor walks past, trailed by interns. A female answers her question with confidence. While a scowl forms on a male’s face. I roll my eyes in disgust. Gah!
“I realigned the bones. Next step in your treatment, the placement of the posterior long arm splint.”
