Chapter 8: The Devil You Know – part 9
Seven weeks after his prism had been stolen Shane was barely making it through the day. If not for his alien side he wouldn’t have been able to wear an efficient, competent facade at the lab. Joon’s vacation wasn’t the problem. It was working on Jake’s crystal, which now was destined to become his replacement. Without a fully functioning prism to aid him, the process sucked him dry.
Shane’s life had become a simple routine: sleep, eat, work, see Jake, work on the prism, and sleep. He didn’t even have the energy to fight with Harris or screw. Once the crystal was finished, Shane told himself, he’d have his life back.
Then he got sick: chills, cold sweats, fatigue, and nausea. His healing ability found no cause.
After two days of feeling like the walking dead, Shane dragged himself to the infirmary. Frasier was surprised to see him, but professionally didn’t comment. She wasn’t able to find a cause, either. Since his symptoms weren’t worsening and he didn’t seem to be contagious, Frasier released Shane with a small plastic bag full of drugs.
Shane was halfway to his quarters daydreaming of drug-induced sleep when Joon stepped in front of him. She looked so much like Harris that his body attempted to react, but failed. He was too tired and miserable to care. She smelled good, though. Catching himself leaning closer, he pulled back. “Joon.”
She crossed her arms under her breasts and gave him a smug smile. “Shane.”
Shane scowled. “Dr. Myers” in public. You know that.
Joon’s smile grew wider. The rules have changed.
“What?” Her statement was so surprising that he wasn’t even angry.
Those drugs won’t help you, she said, nodding at the plastic bag.
“Oh,” Shane drawled, “you’re a medical doctor now?”
“As far as you’re concerned, yes.” Glee rolled off the woman. Before Shane could ask her what the hell she was talking about she grabbed his hand. His nausea immediately halved.
Shane gaped at their clasped hands as his stomach settled. “How…?”
With a devilish grin Joon released his hand and stepped out of reach. Come to my quarters and find out. She turned on her heel and strode away.
Shane was a stubborn bastard. Joon impatiently waited for him to come crawling to her. An entire hour had passed before he finally did. The fact that he knocked pleased her immensely. The no-so-powerful-now psychic didn’t even have the energy to pick the electronic lock.
Joon answered the door, delighting in the anger burning in his eyes. It was a comforting fire, only half the intensity she knew it could be. She stepped back, teasing Shane into her bedroom. What the fuck is going on? he demanded.
You need me.
Growling, Shane grabbed for her. Joon dodged his hand. Why did I feel better when I touched you? Sweat beaded on his forehead as he pulled her to him telekinetically. As soon as he grabbed her hands the color returned to his face. “The hell?!”
You’re in withdrawal. Joon tried to stop smirking. It was making her face hurt.
“Me.” Joon looped her arms round his neck and pressed against him. Shane flinched, but didn’t resist. He was standing straighter already.
Shane looked at her as if she’d grown a second head. “That’s impossible.”
“Oh? If you say so.” She let go of him with a shrug and stepped back. Shane turned green and reached for her hand. Joon let him take it. “Better?”
Her normally cold, confident mentor roiled with confusion and frustration. “Yes.” Then anger surged. What the hell did you do to me?
Joon smiled coquettishly. “That’s for me to know and you to find out. If you can.”
Shane’s glare could have cut her in half. I’ll pluck it out of your mind.
Joon shrugged. Be my guest. She hid the touch of fear she felt as Shane’s mind shoved into hers. He was fumbling, though, and easily dodged. Somehow Joon suppressed giggles. Considering what Shane had done to his Tae Kwon Do partner, it was better to not push him too far.
Fucking whore! he growled when he gave up. What do you want? Money? Recognition?
Joon savored the moment before replying. “Your body.”
Shane blinked. “What?”
“You heard me. You’re going to fuck me into next week, just like in the old days.” She stepped up to him, unbuttoning his shirt. “When you started making me look like her, remember?”
Shock radiated from Shane. “Like who?”
“Doctor Addison Harris,” she said Britishly. Joon wished she had a camera; Shane looked like he’d been punched in the stomach. He stood stock still as she peeled his shirt off and started working on his pants. “Go ahead and say the magic words if you want.” She yanked his pants and boxers down with more force than necessary. “I may act like her for a little while, but I’ll never be her. You can’t always get what you want, you know.” She looked up. Above his half-hard dick he stared at her stupidly. “Do I have to lift your legs up for you? Come on!”
Shane obediently kicked off his pants, socks, and shoes. “How often… will I…?”
Joon pushed him down on the bed, stripped, climbed on him, and placed his hands on her breasts. She wasn’t sure if it was habit, instinct, or desire, but his fingers began their usual expert motions. Joon arched her back and purred. Every other day or so. Then you’ll need me again. It’s not so bad, is it?
“Bitch,” he breathed as he crushed his mouth against hers. Joon laughed and enjoyed the ride.