Read Online The Bear's Surrogate: A Paranormal Pregnancy Romance by Angela Foxxe - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Angela Foxxe
Ads: Link
had gotten into her fine blonde hair, creating a nasty mat. She would need help getting that out, Hilda thought.
As the maid finished cleaning the cut, one of the groundskeepers tromped into the room in his muddy boots. “Alright, where is she?” he growled. Hans motioned towards the bathroom with a smirk on his face and watched Hilda scramble out of the way of the large man.
The groundskeeper scooped up Rachel from the floor as if she were a toy and turned towards Hans. “You sure you don’t need her buried? The master seems to burn through his play things rather quickly.”
“No, Igor,” Hans replied, “this one seems to have a bit of fight in her. We should keep her around. If anything it keeps the...master happy.”
Igor nodded and shoved past the slender butler on his way to the infirmary. He didn’t care about the goings on inside the manor; he just showed up and did what he was told by either Hans, or Valemon himself. He looked down at the woman in his arms. Pretty little thing, I suppose, he thought . Would be a shame to plant this one. He sighed as he made his way through the manor. He tromped down the carpeted stairs and around the corner into the lower floors of the other wing.
He waited in the dark hallway next to the door to the infirmary for Hans to make his appearance. The woman’s blood began to drip from the makeshift bandage that lay on her forehead. Igor sighed and leaned against the wall as he waited.
“Oh, there you are,” Hans' slightly nasal voice announced. “Don’t just stand there, come on in,” he bossed as he unlocked the door.
The large groundskeeper plodded into the dusty infirmary with the unconscious woman and placed her on the dust coated leather examining table.
“Oh, I do hope that the supplies are still good. If not she’ll probably have a nasty festering wound on her head in no time,” the butler said with a droll mutter as he puttered around searching for antiseptic and suture materials. “Ah, here we go. A little bit of iodine,” he announced as he held the brown bottle to his red eye, “and some catgut sutures,” he finished as he pulled out somewhat yellowed packets of ancient suture material that had been pre-threaded in the factory.
Hans reached up and turned on the lamp to brighten his work area, since the dim smoked glass windows didn’t allow much in the way of natural sunlight to shine through. He opened the iodine and poured it onto some sterile gauze the groundskeeper had prepared, and smeared it roughly around the gash on Rachel’s forehead, dislodging what little clotting had formed. He then tore open one of the suture packets and got to work. The woman was unconscious so he had no reason to numb the area first.
As he jabbed and pulled the catgut through Rachel’s flesh, she began to stir. “Oww. What’s going on?” she slurred as she reached up to where Hans was working.
“Ah, don’t grab at me, pet. I’m just sewing up this nasty cut you’ve gone and given yourself. Just lay still, I’m almost finished,” the man replied through gritted teeth.
Rachel allowed her arm to fall to her side. “I just remember going to the bathroom to puke, then black,” she muttered.
“Yes,” Hans said as he tied off the last suture and cut the string, “From the looks of your eyes, you threw up so hard that you fainted. It happens. Vasovagal something or another, anyway you cut your head on the commode. Made one heck of a mess.”
“Oh...I’m sorry,” Rachel whispered.
Hans smirked at her, not really giving a hoot if she was being genuine or not. “Well, do try to be more careful next time. Poor Hilda had to clean up your mess, and was terribly distraught at finding you.”
Rachel grimaced as the searing pain in her head throbbed due to the bright light. “Yeah, I’ll try to do that.” She grunted as she tried to sit up.
Hans placed a spidery hand on her chest and
As the maid finished cleaning the cut, one of the groundskeepers tromped into the room in his muddy boots. “Alright, where is she?” he growled. Hans motioned towards the bathroom with a smirk on his face and watched Hilda scramble out of the way of the large man.
The groundskeeper scooped up Rachel from the floor as if she were a toy and turned towards Hans. “You sure you don’t need her buried? The master seems to burn through his play things rather quickly.”
“No, Igor,” Hans replied, “this one seems to have a bit of fight in her. We should keep her around. If anything it keeps the...master happy.”
Igor nodded and shoved past the slender butler on his way to the infirmary. He didn’t care about the goings on inside the manor; he just showed up and did what he was told by either Hans, or Valemon himself. He looked down at the woman in his arms. Pretty little thing, I suppose, he thought . Would be a shame to plant this one. He sighed as he made his way through the manor. He tromped down the carpeted stairs and around the corner into the lower floors of the other wing.
He waited in the dark hallway next to the door to the infirmary for Hans to make his appearance. The woman’s blood began to drip from the makeshift bandage that lay on her forehead. Igor sighed and leaned against the wall as he waited.
“Oh, there you are,” Hans' slightly nasal voice announced. “Don’t just stand there, come on in,” he bossed as he unlocked the door.
The large groundskeeper plodded into the dusty infirmary with the unconscious woman and placed her on the dust coated leather examining table.
“Oh, I do hope that the supplies are still good. If not she’ll probably have a nasty festering wound on her head in no time,” the butler said with a droll mutter as he puttered around searching for antiseptic and suture materials. “Ah, here we go. A little bit of iodine,” he announced as he held the brown bottle to his red eye, “and some catgut sutures,” he finished as he pulled out somewhat yellowed packets of ancient suture material that had been pre-threaded in the factory.
Hans reached up and turned on the lamp to brighten his work area, since the dim smoked glass windows didn’t allow much in the way of natural sunlight to shine through. He opened the iodine and poured it onto some sterile gauze the groundskeeper had prepared, and smeared it roughly around the gash on Rachel’s forehead, dislodging what little clotting had formed. He then tore open one of the suture packets and got to work. The woman was unconscious so he had no reason to numb the area first.
As he jabbed and pulled the catgut through Rachel’s flesh, she began to stir. “Oww. What’s going on?” she slurred as she reached up to where Hans was working.
“Ah, don’t grab at me, pet. I’m just sewing up this nasty cut you’ve gone and given yourself. Just lay still, I’m almost finished,” the man replied through gritted teeth.
Rachel allowed her arm to fall to her side. “I just remember going to the bathroom to puke, then black,” she muttered.
“Yes,” Hans said as he tied off the last suture and cut the string, “From the looks of your eyes, you threw up so hard that you fainted. It happens. Vasovagal something or another, anyway you cut your head on the commode. Made one heck of a mess.”
“Oh...I’m sorry,” Rachel whispered.
Hans smirked at her, not really giving a hoot if she was being genuine or not. “Well, do try to be more careful next time. Poor Hilda had to clean up your mess, and was terribly distraught at finding you.”
Rachel grimaced as the searing pain in her head throbbed due to the bright light. “Yeah, I’ll try to do that.” She grunted as she tried to sit up.
Hans placed a spidery hand on her chest and
Similar Books
