Free BUFF by Mandy Burns Page A

what?"
    “I don't have time for games, Emmett. I need your help and I need it now." After several slow seconds of stretched silence he steps toward her.
    “So, Rebecca,” he says, his snake-like voice sends shivers down her spine. “You’ve come back for more, Petal." The nickname shoots through her core like a poisoned arrow. He tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. It makes her stomach hurl.
    He risked your life for you once; you owe him.
    “I need antibiotics and a few other things."
    “Excuse me?” Emmett pretends not to pay attention to her. She should have known he’ll make her beg.
    She locks gazes with him as he leers over her. “I don't have time for this, Emmett. I need you to do me this favor. You’re the only doctor I know that can help."
    He leans closer, scratching his eyebrow as he eyes the length of her body. “And what do I get in return?” he says, stroking a cold, lifeless finger down her neck.
    She smacks it away. “I don't have anything you want."
    “You'd be surprised."
    Her response is terse, “Whatever. I need antibiotics and whatever else for an open wound."
    “Open wound?” he asks, his brow lifting. “What exactly is this for?"
    "None of your damn business. I'll pay you now but the favor will have to come later." His faux contemplation is well staged and lags on for several minutes. Becky twists her watch over to get a look at the time. “Emmett. Now."
    “What about a doctors prescription.” He’s smiling so smugly she wants to kick his teeth in with her steel-toed boot.
    She doesn’t cover the impatience in her voice, replying, “That's part of the favor. I don't have it.” She swallows, closing her eyes and she chokes up her next word, “P-Please."
    “Well,” he smirks, “since you know how much I love it when you beg for me to do things for you."
    He walks her over to his Porsche and pops the boot open. “You’re in luck. Got some with me.”
    He shifts a few boxes before opening one. “Here's a topical antibiotic. Make sure to put it on twice a day. Here's an antibiotic, take it with food.” He extends out a paper bag and says, “All the other stuff is in this bag.” When she reaches to take the bag he snatches his hand back. “Who's this for?”
    “That's between me and my maker.” She locks eyes with him again.
    “And my favor?"
    Becky grabs the bag. “For another time and place.”  She tries to hand him a one-hundred dollar bill—it’s the last of her saved money from her dinky summer job at the grocery store—but he closes her hands around the money with no intention of releasing her.
    “Oh, Rebecca. Your favor is worth more than money.”
    She yanks her hand away and takes long strides to escape his clutches, almost turning into a jog when he calls out, “I hope you're ready because you owe me now and I intend on paying you a visit real soon, Petal."
    *     *     *
    A DYING BEAST.
    Her head cranes to the side, the attic door thuds softly behind her. His sickly presence grazes her vision.
    Just... still.
    Unforgivably aching beauty, so real and tangible, and yet the closer she comes toward him the further away she seems.
    One slow foot moves in front of the other. Tiny beads of sweat break through on her forehead. The attic, her haven, it doesn’t even resemble her hiding spot. His presence wrecks the illusion her mind has taken years to build up. She wants to hate him. Hate him for stealing away her easy recluse life. But she can’t.
    She keeps coming back.
    She stops a foot by his bedside. He hasn’t moved. He’s on the floor with the mattress behind him just the same as when she left him. His whole face is lit up, there are no dark shadows, just a smooth, plain surface of skin and stubble. It’s impossible to tear her eyes away.
    Do I have to wake you? Being awake makes the nightmares true...
    Becky's fist tightens. The paper bag she’s holding crinkles. Colt stirs, his head turns to the side. She kneels watching him the