I wanted to see her eyes. Over thirty years of studying people, reading them, and somehow I’d forgotten that eyes were key. Without them I had only secondary and insignificant clues.
I understood why she wasn’t allowed to see, at least not yet. Just because the psychology made sense didn’t mean I approved. Taking a wife had been my duty, responsibility, and obligation to The Light. I’d seen and agreed with the process in the past—but that had been in theory and from a distance. This was up close and personal.
I’d known that eventually my time would come. I’d hoped it wouldn’t, that I could avoid it, but refusing a wife when she was presented wasn’t an option. Taking on this responsibility cemented my bond to The Light and solidified my standing in the community. My compliance and cooperation assured Father Gabriel, the Commission, and the Assembly of my faithfulness.
My gaze darted to Sara’s face. Her hand had just clamped into a tight ball within my grasp. Though I couldn’t see her eyes, her lower lip blanched from the tight hold of her teeth. Damn, she’d bite clean through it if she didn’t stop putting it in that vise grip. I’d seen the drops of blood earlier today when I’d returned her to her bed. At least this time, I wasn’t the cause of her lip-biting. This reaction was caused by the movement of the bed as Dr. Newton reclined it. I guessed it was the damn broken rib or ribs. Why Raquel hadn’t rewrapped it after Sara’s shower, I didn’t know. I would say something, but then she’d probably be corrected. They might even decide to replace her as Sara’s main caregiver. I didn’t want that.
What I wanted was for that horrible dark bruise, those shades of purple and green, to go away. Seeing it when I’d lifted her nightgown had been like experiencing the kick all over again. The reverberations had sent shock waves through both of us. Maybe I didn’t want to see her eyes. The pain she felt, when the bed reclined or when I lifted her, seeped from her pores and filled the room with its stench.
Doesn’t Dr. Newton realize what he’s doing?
I glanced up, but he wasn’t looking at me.
He was looking at her.
My teeth rattled as I clamped them tight and assessed his expression. He was the community’s sole physician, and I expected to see compassion and the desire to heal in his face. Instead images of Dr. Mengele popped into my thoughts.
What kind of doctor participates in the things Dr. Newton does without reservation?
I might not have signed up for this mission, but, damn it, Sara was now my wife.
Who the hell am I kidding?
I was as responsible as Dr. Newton, if not more. Not for all the other women who’d come to the community in this same way, but for Sara. When the Commission explained what needed to be done, I didn’t question. Orders were orders. I obeyed them as well as gave them. That’s how I’d advanced as fast as I had within the community—I understood rules and procedures. The Light wasn’t that different from the military. My training there served me well, and my experience in the army created the perfect history for a faithful follower.
Dr. Newton spoke, refocusing my attention. “I’m going to unbutton your gown to better see your injuries.”
Though she nodded, I reapplied the pressure to my poor teeth. I’d be lucky if they weren’t splinters of enamel by the time this was done. Dr. Newton started at the top button of her nightgown, near the neckline, and worked his way down. He’d managed to unfasten a few buttons when I let go of her hand and pushed his away. I’d seen under her gown and knew she wasn’t wearing a bra.
Her breasts may have been smaller than I preferred, but they were pleasantly round and firm. Earlier, in the bathroom, probably due to the temperature, I’d noticed how her nipples hardened and how the pink around them darkened.
It didn’t matter if they were small or large: they were mine. I also knew damn well that they hadn’t been injured during her accident, and Newton knew that too. He’d examined her before. There was no reason for him to see her breasts again. Loosening my clenched jaw, I said, “Her injuries are lower. I’ll help you.” I wanted to say more, but Sara didn’t need to listen to a pissing contest above her exposed body.
The good doctor’s hands went up willingly in surrender, but the smirk on his face once again made my jaw go rigid. The arrogant ass. There was no way in hell he would ever examine her without me present. I wouldn’t allow it. If I had to petition the Commission, I would. They wanted me to take having a wife seriously, and I was.