His Worst Behavior

Chapter Ten

Thank you to @21Kays for the amazing cover she made me ^! 

And, after reading this chapter, comment down below if you think Chloe should be with Roarke or if she is developing a little bit of Stockholm Syndrome and her ass needs to escape!

                                                          ~ Lissa

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CHAPTER TEN - DEFENDER

"So far, I'm not seeing any signs of an infection," Dr. Burnett said, examining my stitches. It was a few days after the attack and I was seated on Roarke's bed, slouched forward. Dr. Burnett reached into her bag and produced some pills, dropping them in the palm of my hand. "Swallow these."

I hesitantly swallowed them.

She peered at me though her spectacles. "I heard you haven't been very talkative since the attack." Her attention shifted to the dark circles underneath my eyes and the dryness of my lips. "How are you feeling, Chloe?"

"I feel fine," I replied, flatly. "My wounds hurt a little - "

"Emotionally."

I kept a calm facade. "I'm fine."

She gave me a disbelieving look, but sighed. "Okay, I will let Roarke know." Of course she would. There was no confidentiality or privacy in this household. She packed up her things, glancing at me through her spectacles. "What happened at the celebration - I have no words. I'm sorry that bad things keep happening to you."

Dr. Burnett offered a small grin, then walked out of the bedroom. She sounded sincere and despite my dislike for doctors, I liked her.

Shortly after she left, Roarke entered the bedroom, strolling towards me. I stayed seated at the end of the bed until he reached me, his face unreadable. He lifted his hand and moved the collar of my shirt, peering at the stitches on my shoulder. A low grunt escaped his lips, right before he grabbed my wrist and peered at the stitches on my forearm.

"Let me see the bruises," Roarke demanded, his eyes grim. I gestured towards my bruised knees and showed him my palms. "No, I was told that you have bruises on your ribs."

"You can hardly see them - "

"Show me."

I didn't move, just stubbornly kept his gaze. He released a groan of frustration, before he was suddenly grabbing my thighs and throwing me back onto the mattress. Roarke crawled on top of me, trapping me, and fumbled with the hem of my shirt. I grabbed his wrists, trying to jerk him away, but he ignored me completely.

"Get off me," I grumbled, shifting beneath him. "It's none of your business. I'm fine."

"You are my business," he remarked, swiftly. As soon as his dark eyes landed on the purple bruises, they softened. I assumed that the bruises were from a fall in the forest; I had landed on a branch. They thankfully didn't hurt much. He lightly touched my rib-cage, murmuring, "Why didn't I notice them?"

"Because, they're hardly anything," I said, feeling tough. "It's not like I broke a rib."

His jaw tightened. "It's not okay."

"I'm not saying it's okay," I replied, peering up at him. "I'm saying - it could've been worse. Don't freak out over this. Be thankful that things aren't worse."

"I am thankful," he said, his words low and rough. My stomach flopped when he dropped his head and dragged his nose across my collarbone, tickling my neck. It was such a light touch, so gentle, and he sighed against my ear. "So thankful."