A Natural Act (Contradictions) (2 page)

“
Problem, Jenny?”

The man’s rumbling vocal chords force my eye wide open and I find myself wishing I could open the other one to get a better look.

A young man with his hair shaved
off stands before us. His intimidating form looms over the end of my bed and my vision scans the multiple tattoos which peak out from beneath his white tank top. His skin is impressively tanned considering the time of year. His baggy, grey jogging bottoms hang low on his hips and I have to wonder who he is, dressed like that in a hospital. Whoever he is, his presence dominates the room. He seems incredibly comfortable in his skin and very aware of the way people seem to stare at him.

And who can blame them?

He looks like a thug they dragged off the street and I have to wonder if that’s not the case considering the Neanderthal level aggression that radiates from him as he studies Nigel.

Quite an attractive Neanderthal though.

I swallow slightly and force my gaze up to his. Everything about his exterior screams violence but… then there are his eyes.

They’re the sharpest of blue
s and they slice over Nigel like daggers, studying every detail of his exterior. There’s a subtle intelligence there that doesn’t match his aggressive stance and it makes me shudder as his haunches rise and his fists close around the metal end of my bed.

“
I know you’ve finished for the day, duck, and I’d never normally ask, but security are run off their feet with the drunks and the police officer got called away to assist. Can you escort this gentleman out of the ward?” The word gentleman is said with utmost contempt and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Nigel.

I must be on some sort of happy meds because the doctor’s derision sort of makes me want to laugh.

“That’s enough,” Nigel bites with a flicker of irritation. “I have every right to be here. I will not stand to be disresp-”

“
He do this to you?” The man ignores Nigel and looks straight at me.

I swallow and retreat slightly because he oozes aggression but as his eyes meet mine, they soften. It’s not a
monumental difference but it’s enough to give me a glimpse of the man. The real man. There’s something there that’s familiar to me, something shared, but I can’t put my finger on it.

I instinctively know that
– no matter how terrifying he looks – this man is no threat to me.

Nigel, however, is the very definition of a threat so I shake my head quickly, responding to his question in the negative.

He studies me for a fraction of a second longer before nodding, seemingly coming to a decision. Wordlessly, he grabs the scruff of Nigel’s collar and roughly drags him away.

“
What the-” Nigel’s high-pitched protests are cut off as the man places a firm hand around the top of his neck and squeezes, cutting off his oxygen supply.

“
Thanks, Craig!” The nurse calls over her shoulder, already dismissing my tormentor and the bulky man who is frogmarching him away.

“
Wait,” I groan, my quickening heartbeat pounding in my chest.

He’s h
urting and embarrassing Nigel. He won’t like that, not one bit. And public image is so very important. He’s being embarrassed in front of every single person in the hospital.

And I’ll be the one to suffer for it.

I’m suddenly feeling very sober as I struggle to manoeuvre my broken body away from the bed. I don’t know what to do but I know I need to stop this. I need to do something.

There are alarms and beeping sounds
all around me and I feel lightheaded as my brain issues signals to my body which are repeatedly rebuffed. I lie almost immobile in my bed as my mind screams for action.

“
Shh, dear,” the doctor urges. “I need you to relax. It’s okay, it’s going to be okay.”

She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. I can’t draw in oxygen fast enough and the bigger my breaths, the more my ribs hurt. My vision is prickling and fading to black as the nurse does something to the IV
drip attached to my arm.

My last thoughts are of the impending punishment as the world around me fades to grey.

***

“
It’s been almost two hours, Craig. I don’t think he’s coming back,” I hear the gentle encouragement of the doctor before I open my eyes.

There’s a small grunt of acknowledgment but that’s the only response I hear.

She sighs. “You finished almost four hours ago. You should be at home resting.”

She’s met by silence this time.

“Don’t make me call your family,” she threatens.

I open my eyes in time to see the tattooed man narrow his eyes at the doctor.

The doctor just laughs. “That look may work in the ring, Craig, but it won’t work on me. I know you too well.”

“
It’s a cage, Jenny,” Craig responds with just a hint of a smile.

It’s another glimpse of an interior so unlike the exterior. It’s soft and warm but he’
s cut muscle, hard edges, and the quintessential bad boy.

She chuckles.
“Just testing you.”

My eye flutter
s closed again because my hair brushes against my lashes. My body is still too heavy for me to be able to remove the strands from my eyes.

A gentle gesture strokes the hair away from my swollen face and tucks it behind my ears. Gratefully, I open my eye, expecting to see the doctor but I gasp in surprise when I’m met with the inked giant.

“S’okay,” he reassures me. “Won’t hurt you.”

I just nod meekly because I still believe he won’t but I’m not really sure of anything else.
I don’t know where Nigel is and, for the first time in years, it doesn’t seem all that important.

My body hurts too much for me to worry about anything else. Well, aside from the extremely large, slightly intimidating man in front of me.

“You hurting?” He asks me. His voice is so gentle that it almost takes my breath away. The man seems like a walking contradiction.

I don’t answer but he seems to know that I am. He leans over and adjusts my pillow slightly. Even with the medical tape over my squashed nose I’m still overwhelmed with his scent. It’s the smell of clean laundry and a hint of cloves. It
’s a surprisingly pleasant combination.

His forearm brushes against mine and my skin
ripples with goose bumps from the warmth. It makes me realise how cold I am.

“
You’re freezing,” he frowns, shooting an irritated glare at the doctor’s back. She’s busy with a patient on the other side of the room and oblivious to the glares she’s receiving.

With surprising grace and agility considering his size, he swings his body
weight past the side of the bed and reaches into the cupboard next to me. Whatever he’s looking for is on the top shelf and his lithe body stretches out with the movement. I can’t help notice that muscles on his arm. I didn’t even know there were muscles like that in the human body.

I groan because this is not the time to be appreciating the aesthetics of tattooed men who hang out in hospitals for no apparent reason.

“Pain medication will kick in soon,” he frowns again, placing another blanket over me with continued tenderness.

Clearly he misinterpreted my groan. Thank goodness.

“Rest,” he instructs, folding his body back into the chair beside my bed once he’s tucked all the ends of the blanket in.

“Where am I?” I manage groggily.

“Derby Royal hospital.”

“
Who are you?” I ask, surprising myself because talking is a bit of a chore but I just need to understand why my bedside is being guarded by this confusingly alluring stranger.

“
Craig,” he smirks, knowing full well he hasn’t really given me an answer.

As his lips curve up, I’m struck by just how attractive he really is. It was obvious he was fairly good looking from the very first moment I saw him but it became secondary to the fear generated by Nigel’s presence.

“And you’re Isabella,” he grins gesturing to the chart on the table.

I nod.

“And you’re a bit of a mess,” he gestures to my face and frowns.

I can’t explain or understand how much it hurts to see him look at me like that
– with sadness and frustration. It shouldn’t bother me. I don’t know this man.

“
Sorry,” he continues when I close my eyes instead of responding.

It feels like he’s apologising for the fact that I’m beaten and broken but that’s not his fault. It’s mine.

I keep my eyes pressed closed to prevent the tears but it’s too much and I shake slightly as silent drops course over my cheeks. The dampness is brushed away with a soft tissue and I open my one eye to find Craig’s two.

The crystal sharp blue of his eyes meets mine with a frown of concern on the bridge of his nose.

“Sorry,” I sniffle. He already has to look at my swollen, bruised face. He shouldn’t have to see me snotty and crying as well.

“
Don’t apologise,” he scolds and I meet his eyes to see how serious he is.

Very.

“Nothing to apologise for,” he explains when he sees my shock.

“
What does my face look like?” I ask with a cringe.

“
Want me to get a mirror?” He replies with the doubtful lilt of one eyebrow.

I shake my head slig
htly. I’m not sure I could cope with seeing that train wreck.

“
So you just want me to describe it?” He frowns doubtfully.

I nod as best I can.

“I’m not sure I can,” he grimaces apologetically.

I grin at the slightly comical expression on his face and it feels foreign to my muscles. I don’t remember the last time I smiled so genuinely.
I don’t remember the last time I wasn’t too scared to smile.

“
I’m not looking for a lavish linguistic description. Just tell me how bad I look on a scale from slightly mushed fruit to thoroughly pummelled chicken breast.”

His lips quirk upwards and I think he might be fighting a smile.
“You’re joking about this?”

“
Would you rather I cried some more?”

“
No. I guess not,” he replies pensively. There’s a period of silence and I take a few deep breaths and reposition myself in the bed slightly. I’m slowly starting to feel a bit more human and I’m not sure if that’s good or not because humans have the ability to feel emotions and emotions can be more painful than physical affliction.

Until now
, I’ve been quite happily ignoring the reason why I’m lying in this hospital bed in favour of the pleasant, inked distraction at my bedside and my drug-addled stupor.

“
You look like crap,” Craig says eventually and with a shockingly blunt delivery.

“
I thought I might,” I sigh in acceptance.

“
Your eyes are very beautiful though,” he says, his voice lowered slightly. He’s obviously trying to make me feel better.

“
Um,” I hedge. “You mean my eye?”

“
Well, I’m assuming they’re both the same,” he grins, leaning forwards and resting his elbows on his knees. He studies my face as though trying to see through my swollen eyelids.

“
Unless you have heterochromia iridum,” he says, more to himself than to me. He leans forwards even further and grabs my chart, scanning it quickly before putting it back and facing me again.

“
Nope, two blue-grey eyes,” he nods, seemingly satisfied.

“
My eyes are grey,” I tell him.

“
Not according to my eyes. And not according to the chart,” he winks. “And the charts never lie. That’s the first thing you learn working here.”

I nod like I know what he’s talking about but I’m looking at his eyes and wishing mine really were blue because his eyes are beautiful.

“What’s hetero chromo uranium?” I ask eventually because I’ve been one-eyed staring at him for too long.

“
Heterochromia iridum,” he replies with a low chuckle. “It’s basically Latin for having two different coloured eyes.”

“
Why didn’t you just say that then?” I tease. I’m not sure why. This is the most relaxed and friendly conversation I’ve had in months and I’m enjoying it.

“
Maybe I was trying to impress you,” he shrugs.

“
With Latin?” I grin again.

“
Did it work?” He meets my gaze with a knowing look.

“
I can neither confirm nor deny,” I reply nonchalantly. To be honest though, I may be slightly impressed. He’s obviously quite intelligent despite the gruff front.

“
That’s lawyer speak if ever I heard it,” he shakes his head and looks at me with mock reproach.