She stormed away from him, noting the tray of surgical instruments on the counter. “Planning on operating?” she hissed, turning around and jumping onto the table. The smooth sheet bunched under her butt.
The doctor shook his head. “No.” He grasped a small clasp and shoved it on her index finger, and one of the monitors began to beep. “Those are just in case. Your oxygen levels look good.”
“What a relief,” she snapped out.
Ivan shut the door and leaned back against it, gun hanging casually in his hand. “How long does the process take?”
The doctor glanced at Felicity. “Based on my contacts, it takes about two days to fully negate the mating bond.”
Three days, actually, and then about a week of regaining energy and strength. The process was like a human experiencing a very bad flu bug. Felicity shoved hair away from her face. Was it really like the flu? If so, would this one take her down, or would she have created antibodies against the mutation? She swallowed and glanced at the syringe already filled on the tray. “This is such a terrible idea.”
Ivan laughed. “Let’s hope it works.”
She’d known him forever. “Ivan, this might kill me. At least let me see my son once before we take the risk.” She tried to force the hatred from her voice, and it came out quivery.
He shook his head, not concealing the hatred from his eyes at all. “Perhaps this will give you incentive to survive.”
Fear and anger flushed through her. “You are such a prick.”
The doctor cleared his throat and moved to attach a couple of nodules to her upper chest. Her heartbeat blipped on the screen, way too fast. Then he reached for the syringe and glanced at Ivan.
The demon nodded.
“Just take a deep breath and relax,” the doctor said, grasping her arm with chilled hands.
Shots fired in the distance.
Felicity’s head jerked up. Daire was there.
In one smooth motion, she grabbed the syringe, twisted her wrist, and plunged the syringe into the doctor’s palm. He cried out and backed away, windmilling his arms. His ass hit the counter, and the tray of supplies tumbled to the floor. Sharp knives and hooks clattered across the hard tile.
“I’m mated,” he cried out, yanking the syringe free.
“Not anymore,” Felicity hissed, throwing the oxygen counter at his head.
Ivan darted forward, and she kicked, nailing him in the balls. He doubled over with a pained oof.
She grabbed onto the bed, swung around, and hit the doctor under the chin with a hard kick. His head snapped back, his eyes fluttered shut, and his body pummeled down onto the tray.
He’d only be out a few minutes.
Felicity slid to her feet just as Ivan stood up to his full height.
“I’m going to fucking kill you,” he said, turning the gun on her.
Cold purpose flowed through her like bubbling rage. She stood and held out her hands. “You really need the gun for that?” Her lip twisted.
His chin lifted. “No.” Slowly, he shoved the gun in the back of his waistband. “I rarely like to get my hands dirty, but I’m going to bathe in your blood.”
She smiled. “I’ve been waiting for this way too long.” Bunching her knees, she jumped into the air, clapped her thighs on his head, and twisted. Gravity did its job, and she dropped, taking his head with her and forcing his body to follow.
He bellowed and punched her in the hip.
Agony spread along her lower back.
Her hands slapped the floor, and pain ricocheted up her arms to her shoulders. She released his head, rolled, and came up swinging. A jab to the throat threw her back against the counter.
She wheezed in air and sent healing cells to the broken trachea, her eyes wide.
Ivan stood to his full height, blood streaming from a cut on his forehead.
She scrambled down and grasped a scalpel to hold up in front of her.
He chuckled, the sound low and evil, before drawing a jagged knife from his boot. “Mine is bigger.”
“It’s not the size—.” She ducked into a slide, went past him, and cut his heel as she went. Blood spurted.