✓ WICKED VOWS| JAKE (Book II )

45-War Of Hormones

Ana's pov

I don't know what got into me as I found myself standing in front of the hospital. My last memory was of a blur, a haze of desperation; now, here I was, with Jude pulling up behind me in her car. She followed me inside, her presence like a shadow: silent but always there, always watching. They backed away, like cockroaches. "Your Highness," a nurse stammered as she spoke to me. Her attempt to address me without letting her fear seep through her words was quite futile, and her voice shook. "His Highness is taking care of a surgery right now, do you want me to lead you to his office?"

"No, you can go and call him."

"I'm afraid I can not my lady, he does not like to be disturbed during his work."

"Do I fucking care?" I spat the words out with venom. The idea that I would give a shit about some surgery was laughable. My world had been forged in blood and betrayal; the concept of waiting, of patience, was alien to me.

"You go and call him right now. I won't wait for His Highness." My tone left no room for argument; the patience in my body was a thread pulling to its limits.

"But he is in the middle of surgery," she protested, her voice weakening as she saw the cold fury in my eyes.

"And I believe there are enough doctors in this godforsaken hospital, or is it a run-down shithole that relies on one man to keep it running?" I knew the reputation of this place. The temple of luxury with all the greatest doctors from all across England. Lives could be bought and sold with a flick of the wrist, whereas lives are based only on wealth and status.

Her eyes flicked to the side; I saw the burst of fear when she realized I would not back off. "I do wish I could have helped you, Princess, but His Highness cannot be disturbed during surgery," she muttered, glancing at the floor.

"Can you take me to where he is?" The words were soft, a mere whisper, but they held the essence of a command. She nodded as the fear bled out of her onto the air around us, like the scent of decay. They were all afraid of him, afraid to disturb him during surgery. But I wasn't afraid. Who the hell did he think he was? A god among men?

I followed the nurse through the sterile halls, the smell of antiseptic clinging to the air, mingled with the underlying stench of fear. I could almost taste it, the bitter tang of it on my tongue. She led deeper, farther into the bowels of the hospital, where the walls seemed to close in like a trap that held me within this twisted labyrinth of power and control.

Jake's words from earlier in the day still ran through my mind, "I'm not planning on sleeping with you until you admit that you like me too. I don't need a declaration of love, but I refuse to settle for mediocre affection. I want to be drowned into someone, rather than to drown in someone; that someone is you. "  trust me, Jake Salvatore, I will drown you in your blood.

He wanted more from me than just my body—he wanted my soul, every fractured piece of it. But I wasn't ready to give him that. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Like a storm about to break, thickened the air around us as we approached the operating room. The nurse caught my eyes, and her steps slackened, and she turned to me, her eyes great, with terror. "Please, Princess, if you disturb him now—"

Her words were cut off by the door slamming open ahead of us. I didn't hesitate. I pushed past her, my gaze locked on the figure in the operating room. There he was, His Highness, one over a patient, his hands steady. Normally I scarcely rated a flinch of recognition as he worked if I came into his operating room, really just stood close enough to be swept by his gaze. My fury bubbling just beneath the surface, I couldn't help but notice how Jake looked in that sterile, blood-streaked operating room. He had a crisp white blouse on, which was stretched over the broad shoulders of his muscled body. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, drawing the defined lines of his forearms. Encased in gloves, his hands were stained with blood, and, hell, I knew, irritatingly, that he looked incredibly attractive. But I wouldn't tell him. Never give him that satisfaction.