“Um, excuse me, Mr. Esguerra…” The sound of a woman’s voice is accompanied by a timid knock on the door, and I realize it’s the nurses making their morning rounds.

Fuck. I’m tempted to ignore them, but I have a feeling they’ll just come back again in a bit—possibly when I’m balls-deep inside Nora’s tight pussy.

Reluctantly releasing Nora, I roll over onto my back, sucking in my breath at the jolt of pain, and watch as Nora jumps off the bed and hurriedly pulls on a robe.

“Do you want me to open the door for them?” she asks, and I nod, resigned. The nurses have to change my bandages and make sure I’m well enough to travel today, and I have every intention of cooperating with their plans.

The sooner they’re done, the faster I can get out of this fucking hospital.

As soon as Nora opens the door, two female nurses come in, accompanied by David Goldberg—a short, balding man who’s my personal doctor at the estate. He’s an excellent trauma surgeon, so I had him oversee the repairs on my face, to make sure the plastic surgeons at the clinic didn’t fuck anything up.

I don’t want to repel Nora with my scars if I can help it.

“The plane is already waiting,” Goldberg says as the nurses begin to unwrap the bandages on my head. “If there are no signs of infection, we should be able to head home.”

“Excellent.” I lie still, ignoring the pain resulting from the nurses’ ministrations. In the meantime, Nora grabs some clothes from the closet and disappears into the bathroom that adjoins our room. I hear the water running and realize she must’ve decided to use this time to take a shower. It’s probably her way of avoiding me for a bit, since she’s still upset over my threat. My pet is sensitive to violence being doled out to those she views as innocent—like that stupid boy Jake she kissed the night I took her.

I still want to rip out his insides for touching her… and someday I probably will.

“No sign of infection,” Goldberg tells me when the nurses are done removing the bandages. “You’re healing well.”

“Good.” I take slow, deep breaths to control the pain as the two nurses clean the sutures and rebind my ribs. I’ve been taking half of my prescribed dose of painkillers for the past two days, and I’m definitely feeling it. In another couple of days, I’ll go off the painkillers completely to avoid becoming dependent on them.

One addiction is plenty for anyone.

As the nurses are wrapping up, Nora comes out of the bathroom, freshly showered and dressed in a pair of jeans and a short-sleeved blouse. “All clear?” she asks, glancing at Goldberg.

“He’s good to go,” he replies, giving her a warm smile. I think he likes her—which is fine with me, given his homosexual orientation. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine, thanks.” She lifts her arm to show a large Band-Aid over the area where the terrorists cut out her birth control implant by mistake. “I’ll be happy when the stitches are out, but it doesn’t bother me much.”