Deviant King (Royal Elite #1) - Rina Kent Page 0,101
his head until his warm breath draws shivers on my skin. His voice is low and raspy when he says, “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to have you, sweetheart.”
“Nothing?”
“Absolutely nothing.”
The thought should be scary, but I’m feeling anything but scared right now. I tiptoe and plant a chaste kiss on his cheek. Before he can deepen it, I duck and escape.
There’s no way I’d let him kiss me in the school’s hallways.
I’m giggling as I run down the hall. My head collides against a torso. I fall on my arse and pain explodes in my hipbone.
Ow.
Adam looks down at me with a glare. “Watch where you’re going.”
He throws one last malicious stare before he stalks off.
I stand up and dust off my skirt just in time for Aiden to catch up with me.
One look at me and his playful expression disappears. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” If Aiden knows, he’ll do something unpredictable and I really don’t want any trouble now.
Not when both of us need a clean record to get into Cambridge and Oxford.
“By the way,” he says. “You still haven’t come to one of my games.”
He keeps reminding me of that fact. It’s silly, really, but I want to keep some things from him. Like not going to his games. Not following him back on Instagram — although I stalk it all the time.
I feel like those little things will keep me dependant.
I check my watch. “I have an appointment with my doctor.”
He narrows his eyes. “I’ll pick you up after practice.”
I suppress a nervous smile and nod. Today, we’re watching the Champions League game in his house with the guys.
Kim agreed to join us, and I hugged her until she called me a creep.
It’s the first time I’m going to Aiden’s house.
He’s always eating at my house, sneaking into my room, and spending nights in my bed when Aunt and Uncle are caught up in work.
What’s so hard about going to his palace-like house and meeting his father, the mighty Jonathan King?
Nothing… right?
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Being back in Dr Khan’s office after more than a year of interrupting my therapy is weird, to say the least.
The office is white without anything distinctive other than the wall-length library opposite us. The lack of paintings or objects is on purpose to not distract patients and to keep their minds as open as the white walls. Or at least that’s what Dr Khan told me when I asked him a while back.
He’s sitting on the brown, leather chair with a notepad in hand while I lie down on the recliner chair.
Dr Imran Khan — who I learnt is the same name of a Bollywood actor — is a small-built man in his mid-fifties. His salt-and-pepper hair is more salt than pepper now compared to when I first met him ten years ago.
His skin is tanned but is considered light compared to others with Pakistani heritage.
“I’m happy you decided to return, Elsa.” His tone is welcoming and he looks genuinely happy to have me back on his recliner chair.
“Mr Quinn mentioned trouble with stress for exams.” His kind but piercing brown eyes focus on me. “What do you think is the cause of that stress?”
“It’s senior year and the pressure is real.” It’s not a lie, but it’s not the reason I’m here either.
Dr Khan bites it. His eyes fill with what I call detached care. I think that’s what makes him perfect at his job. He has the ability to empathise but not let his patients’ feelings rub off on him.
He jots down a note. Another thing about Dr Khan is his traditional methods. He doesn’t use recordings much.
“Has there been anything triggering lately?” he asks.
“Yes.” I shift against the leather and it squeaks in the deafening silence of the room. “I’ve been having nightmares about you hypnotising me, Dr Khan.”
His pen pauses on the notepad and his shoulders tense. That’s all the answer I need. It hasn’t been a play of my imagination.
Dr Khan recovers fast. “Why do you think you had such a nightmare, Elsa?”
I sit up, the leather squeaking, and face him. “It’s not a nightmare. It’s the truth.”
He opens his mouth to say something, but I hold up a hand.
“I’m not blaming you, Dr Khan. I know you have two thesis, one in psychotherapy and the other in hypnotherapy so it’s not like you’re doing anything illegal. I also know that Aunt and Uncle probably made you do it, but I need to know why.”