Chapter 27

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Doc's expertise in medicine paled in comparison towards his knowledge in dreams. Turns out during his time in college, Doc paired a medical degree with one in psychology, of which dreams are quite an integral part to decipher how the brain works. However, when Dustin described how his 'friend' was waking up with injuries from characters in their dream, Doc gave no conclusive answers.

He glanced at me, eyeing the bruises on my neck, then clipped his bag shut and headed for the door rather quickly. No further questions, but no answers either.

"Well that was unhelpful." Dustin murmured, returning to my side to inspect Doc's handiwork. While I'm sure the doctor wanted to provide more assistance, he wasn't able to do much considering the bruises had already been inflicted. All Doc could do was make sure the bruises weren't too severe and that nothing below the surface was damaged.

Doc also checked over Dustin's ribs, offering another strict warning for Dustin to take things easy for a while. But in the end, Doc was only able to supply more painkillers which Dustin disregarded on the nightstand.

I shrugged, more to myself than to the Vice, "I didn't expect him to know anything anyways."

Dustin noted the relatively somber tone to my confession and draped his arms around me, tight enough to be secure but not so tight that I felt suffocated, "I'm right here, Sadie. You're not alone in this, okay? We're going to figure this out."

No we weren't. I was going to figure this out. Dustin is the Vice to a group of motorcycle gang members, and on the top of every wanted list from here to the east coast. He already has too much to worry about, some of which are life threatening matters. He didn't need to waste his time searching for an answer I wasn't even sure existed. My dreams are my own problem and I'll be the one to stuff that skeleton back into the coffin he crawled out of.

I told Dustin at least, now he knows and that's enough. I won't ask him to put his life on hold to try make sense of mine.

With a fake smile stapled to my face, I pulled him close for a quick kiss, mainly because I can do that now. I can kiss him whenever I want without having an ethical dilemma, "We can talk about it later."

Though his lips remained planted against mine, I heard a choppy breath escape him in the form of a muffled laugh, "I know what you're doing, Dimples. Distractions will get you nowhere."

"Oh really?" I asked, letting my hands fall onto the curve of his hips as he stood at the edge of the bed. From where I sat, Dustin still towered over me and had to bend at the waist to kiss me, but I saw the way his focus unraveled when my fingers gripped at his hips, "You sure?"

"Um ... well no, I'm not entirely sure." Dustin answered truthfully, running his thumb in a line just below my bottom lip, "But I'll tell you this. Keep kissing me the way you do and I can almost guarantee that distractions will most definitely get you somewhere."

I laughed at how easy he was to break, at how eager he was to kiss me again, "How the tables have turned."

"What?"

"You're like my pet now. Come on boy, roll over."

Dustin's eyes glimmered with devilish mischief, "Oh ha ha, very funny. But may I remind you," He pushed me back just forceful enough that my shoulder blades hit the bed, with him now positioned over me, leaning from the waist so that his chest resided wholly over mine. Pinning me to the sheets. He smirked at the way my breath caught, "You're still my pet."

"I've told you before, I'm no one's pet." I won't even try to pretend that my declaration was stable because it shook like a flag in the wind.

He glanced down at the position of our bodies and chuckled, "Now where do I remember this from? Oh yes, that's right."' His smirk grew, "From the first night of the ceremony when you were practically begging me to kiss you. Do you remember that Dimples? I gave the option to say no, and you didn't."

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