Thunder Moon (Nightcreature 8)
“I don’t want her disappointed.”
“It’s been proven that a person’s attitude can mean as much or more to their health than the actual medicine.”
“Did you give her a placebo?”
“I’m not telling you what I gave her.”
“What about Katrine? There’s nothing wrong with her.”
“I know.” His lips quirked. I had a strong feeling that Katrine was the one with the placebo.
“The way you do business doesn’t sit right with me.” The way he did a lot of things no longer sat quite right.
“Let’s make an agreement. You don’t tell me how to deal with my patients, and I won’t tell you how to beat a confession out of a subject.”
“I don’t do that.”
“And I wouldn’t give people anything I didn’t think could help them. When I take an oath, I live by it.”
“ ‘Do no harm.’ “
“Among others.” Ian stepped in, quick and close, startling me so much any questions I might have asked got caught in my throat.
“The balm I gave you worked.” His long, slightly rough fingers brushed my cheek, and my eyelids fluttered closed.
The scent of him brought back the feel of his body in mine. His breath stirred my temple. I wanted so badly to touch him, to have him touch me.
“You should trust me,” he whispered.
My eyes shot open; my chin came up. His face was so close our lips nearly brushed before I backed away. “You haven’t been trustworthy so far.”
“You took me to see Quatie; you had to have trusted me then.”
Which only made the loss of trust in him now hurt worse. “If you lie about one thing, you’ll lie about everything.”
His mouth tightened, as if he were trying to hold his temper. But when he spoke his voice was so calm I wanted to shriek. “You’re not mad about my business; you’re mad about my wife.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m mad about both. I don’t trust you. For all I know you could be doling out poison.”
A surprised bark of laughter escaped him, more convincing than any denial would have been. “Why would I do that?”
“Why would you tell me your wife was dead when she’d disappeared?”
“I never said she was dead.”
“You never said she was alive, either.”
He sighed. “This is getting us nowhere.”
“Where did you want to go?”
The look he sent me left no room for misunderstanding. He wanted to go back to bed—immediately.
My body reacted as if he’d run his beautiful hands all over me. I longed for him, and I hated myself for it.
“Put that right out of your head. We won’t be going there. Not ever again.”
“You’re overreacting.”