you’re just turning me on, Doc.”
“You like pushing boundaries, don’t you, Annabelle?”
She shrugs. “I’m the most powerful creature in all of Hell. If I can’t push a boundary or two, then where’s the fun?”
“Do you consider me a boundary you want to push?” I am practically panting. This line of questioning is about as unprofessional as it can get, but I simply cannot get her out of my head. I dream about her; I see her when I close my eyes. I imagine her writhing naked on top of me, that cascade of gorgeous hair falling around her shoulders, brushing her nipples as she rides me wildly, using me, leaving me wanting, craving her touch again.
She licks her lips, her eyes narrowed. “How hard do you want me to push?” she asks.
Oh, so hard.
“I’m your therapist,” I say again, more firmly this time. “You can’t push me.”
The disappointment in her eyes makes me want to drop to my knees and beg her to take me as her slave. She feels something for me, I don’t know if it is real or if it’s just because she thinks I’m a man who listens to her and respects her. It is something that she so desperately wants apart from love. It’s classic transference if it’s the latter. If it’s the former, I’m professionally bound to ignore it. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to do that. It took everything I had a moment ago to shut her down.
“Oh, I can push whomever I chose,” she says. “If it’s taboo, then that just makes it even more delicious.”
“Why don’t we talk about what happened last night?” I choke out. The anger that I feel about what she said claws at me. I’m powerless to do anything about it. I would be crushed the second I step out of her residence. As it is, I barely leave these two rooms that encompass my office and my bedroom. I have all my food delivered. I take a walk around once every three days. I know that I’m protected up to a point, if I don’t step outside of the magickal barrier. I know that I get protection from Annabelle, she’s told me as much, but she can’t be there every second to make sure that I don’t get eaten alive inside these walls.
I gulp as my reality hits me again. It does every so often. I was quite comfortable back on Earth. A solid practice in London, good friends, a fiancée. Then one day this Angel flashed into my office and snatched me, bringing me to Hell. Her twin. Annabelle has never been to Earth. She is bound by an eons old rule to only walk the Earth at Armageddon. A rule that her father broke on numerous occasions, in order to claim her mother. I often wonder why she abides by this rule as she seems to enjoy breaking them.
“Annabelle?” I ask as she has gone unusually quiet.
She shrugs petulantly. “I don’t really want to,” she says. “I told you it’s over. Done.”
“Are you sure that is how you feel?” I press.
“Yes,” she states with an emphatic nod. “I do have something to talk about though.”
“Oh?”
“You remember Drescal, the Incubus?”
How could I forget the man that enjoys her body regularly as I wish to? I grimace and try to turn it into a smile. “Of course.”
“Well, he made this epic declaration today.” She beams at me and I press my lips together. “He is retiring, and we are now officially a couple.”
“Oh?” I croak out, unable to form more than this one syllable. I dig the tip of my pen into the notebook to stop myself from stabbing myself in the eye. She deserves better than to be with a Demon who fucks women to condemn them to Hell.
“Yep. He’s going to move in here…”
“He’s moving in with you?” I interrupt her.
“Well, no, not in with me. Just a room down the hall.”
“But you will spend your nights together?” I ask.
She gives me a level look. “Does that bother you, Doc?”
“It appears rather sudden,” I say to cover up. I see her face fall and she bites her lip.
“Do you think I’m making a mistake?” she asks me seriously.
I pause. She listens to me. I could rip this Demon away from her with a few words.
But what kind of therapist, what kind of man, would that make me. Petty, jealous and immature. Three things that I know will turn her off in a