Page 36 of Bloodlust

Good.

Nothing about this feels good.

It's all very...bad.

But fortunately, I'm good at bad.

Bad is better.

Bad girls always win.

And good girls?

I walk to my bathroom, stripping out of my clothes before hopping in the shower.

Good girls finish last.

Here goes nothing.

"Miss Bianco!" Heather chirps as I burst into Dr. Malcolm's office, a venti Americano in my hand. Her cheery disposition causes my stomach to curl. "It's nice to see you again!" She reaches down to grab something before jerking upright. She shows me a chew toy. "Look! I did some more research and you were right about that other brand! Horrible! My pup is so much more energetic now! Thank you!"

"Mhmm," I hum lethargically, glancing down the hallway. "Is he ready for me, or do I have to wait?"

"You're right on time!" Heather exclaims with a wide smile, gesturing at the door. "He's all yours!"

A bizarre feeling of nervousness creeps into my stomach. I frown at the door at the end of the hallway. It's closed. Closed doors make me uneasy. Especially ones that are unfamiliar. You never know what kind of evil lurks behind them. But Iknowwhat's behindthisdoor. A doctor. A man. Someone who thinks he can help me. I shouldn't feel tense. It's not a mystery.

It's not a door to the unknown.

A door to the forgotten.

I swallow, closing my eyes for a fraction of a second.Like a switch. That's all it takes to change faces. Mindsets. Some doors are meant to stay closed. I intend to keep mine bolted shut.

Hayden Malcolm might think he's a locksmith.

But I'm not here for a key.

I'm here for a temporary solution to a temporary problem.

I don't need to open the door.

I just need him to teach me how to forget the door exists.

I glide toward his office and twist the handle, opening the gateway to something I know I'll end up regretting.

"Aw," I pout, gaze traveling up and down the sculpted frame of the doctor as he stands by the window. He's wearing a navy suit, but there's no tie around his neck. The free-flowing fabric of his white dress shirt reveals the tiniest glimmer of his chiseled chest. Mmm. "No striptease this time? How disappointing."

"Take a seat, Miss Bianco," he says passively, turning around. He adjusts his glasses as he gives me a once-over, eyebrows perking when I don't comply. He gestures to the couch opposite an armchair. "Sit. Please."

I stride into the office and close the door behind me. "I prefer to stand."

"I never asked for your preference," he says, the top of his lip twitching. "Sit."

"Fine," I smirk, giving him a challenging look. I run my fingers along his desk and plop down on the edge, my skirt hiking up past mid-thigh. "I'm sitting. Happy?"

"On the couch," he orders, the rough tone of his voicealmost making me want to obey. Almost. I cross my legs. Like a magnet for poor male self-control, his gaze flicks down to my legs. His lip twitches again before he meets my defiant stare. "The couch, Miss Bianco."

I tilt my head. "Make me."