Chapter 169: Boring
Only then did Yvonne’s eyes move.
Her gaze left Elias’s face and lowered to his throat.
Elias watched her instead.
He wanted to catch even the smallest shift in her expression, anything that might tell him what was moving behind that calm face. Before he could read her, Yvonne stood up and left without a word.
Elias blinked. "Why do I feel like she isn’t interested in at all?"
[System Theta: It really does seem that way...]
Was this where its host finally crashed and burned?
A short while later, Yvonne returned.
The first thing Elias noticed was her hands.
She had put on dical gloves. Blue nitrile, but not the deep, rich blue of the ocean. It was the pale clinical blue printed on pill bottles and disposable hospital supplies, the kind of color that made people think of needles before they knew why.
Elias let fear slip into his eyes.
Young. Skittish. Soft enough to make the cruelty of a wolf’s mouth feel inevitable.
Naturally, he did it on purpose.
Aside from repairing his image, he had another goal. He needed to test whether Yvonne was actually interested in him.
Could it be that Yvonne Quinn truly had that much dical ethics? Did putting on a white coat let her completely suppress the side of herself that wanted to hurt people?
If that was true, the saints in every hospital chapel should move over and give her the chair.
While Elias was still thinking, sothing cool touched his throat.
The texture of the glove brushed his skin, carrying a sterile chill. His body gave a small tremble, and he leaned back into the sofa as if trying to avoid her touch.
No matter how he retreated, her hand stayed on his neck.
As if it had already found the place it wanted and had no intention of leaving.
"Don’t move."
Yvonne moved closer as she spoke. One knee ca down on the sofa beside him. From behind, it would look as if she had pressed him beneath her.
Two simple words, and in her mouth they sounded like an order.
Elias caught it.
A thin smile almost reached his eyes.
There it was.
Couldn’t hold back anymore? Done pretending?
He "instinctively" shut his eyes. His brows tightened, his head tipped back, and his throat stretched under her gloved hand. A low sound slipped from between his closed lips.
Every motion made him look like a lamb offering its neck.
Worse, he was already in the wolf’s mouth.
One bite, and the neck would break. One bite, and the blood would co.
Yvonne’s fingers moved along his throat, rubbing lightly over the red marks. A ticklish sensation crawled under his skin.
"Does it itch?" she asked.
Elias thought, Are you serious? You’re practically trying to tickle under the jaw. Of course it itches.
Out loud, he answered honestly, "It itches."
His voice was faint, like it had leaked out through the seam of his lips.
Yvonne did not respond.
The touch changed from rubbing to pressing. Then to kneading.
Pain blood under her fingers.
This ti, before she even asked, Elias said, "It hurts."
The words ca out in a low little hum, with the faintest tremor threaded through them.
Yvonne ignored that too.
"Does it hurt?"
Her fingers pressed a little harder.
Elias let out another soft sound. "It hurts..."
Moisture gathered in his eyes, thin and bright, as if one more touch would turn it into tears.
At last, Yvonne withdrew her hand.
Elias looked as if he had been given his life back. He breathed shallowly for a mont and lifted his own hand to touch his throat.
Before, it had probably only been faintly red.
Now it was definitely flushed.
He raised his head and looked at her with wet, innocent eyes. "Yvonne, what’s wrong with it? Is it an allergy?"
Yvonne’s voice was flat. "Possibly. What did you do last night?"
The corner of Elias’s mouth lifted slightly. He put on a thoughtful look, as if he was searching his mory with great care.
"Last night? Let think..."
"I didn’t do anything special. I had a little wine with classmates, then went ho."
"To soone else’s ho?"
Elias stopped.
If only the two of them had not been the only people in the room, he might have wondered who had said that. He had barely seen her lips move.
He blinked, then parted his lips with an innocent look. "Is spending the night at a friend’s place not allowed?"
"Of course it is." Yvonne’s expression did not change. "I only need to know everything you did yesterday to determine whether your symptoms are actually allergic."
"Including what happened after I went to soone else’s place?"
"Including what happened after you went to soone else’s place."
"Oh." Elias looked as if he understood. Then he said slowly, "But after I went ho, I didn’t do anything. I just slept."
"Is that so?"
Yvonne removed her glasses.
Without the gold rims softening them, her eyes looked colder. The calm, almost mild gaze sharpened all at once, like it wanted to pass through Elias’s pupils and cut straight into whatever he was hiding.
"Then perhaps my judgnt was wrong," she said. "Your symptoms may not be an allergy."
Elias looked lost. "Then what is it?"
Yvonne did not answer right away.
She lowered her head and picked up a clean cloth, then began wiping her glasses. Once. Again. Slow, exact, and careful.
People always said a ticulous woman had a charm of her own.
At this mont, Yvonne did.
She finished cleaning the lenses and put the glasses back on. Her thin lips parted.
"Sex addiction."
The room went silent.
Elias remained blank, as if he had never expected those words to co out of Yvonne Quinn’s mouth.
Sex seed like sothing that should have nothing to do with her at all.
From the beginning, Yvonne had looked like distance, diagnosis, and controlled temperature.
Yet now she had said it plainly.
Elias t her eyes.
Bright. Cold. Sharp.
They looked like a brand-new scalpel, ready to cut open skin and expose the flesh, blood, and organs beneath.
Seeing that look, Elias slowly let the confused expression fall away.
A natural smile appeared on his face.
"Dr. Quinn," he said, "has anyone ever told you... you’re very boring?"
The address changed from familiar to formal without the slightest stumble.
Just like the expression on his face, the shift ca easily. Effortlessly. As if he had been born able to swap masks with a breath.
Yvonne did not answer.
She only looked at him.
She watched the sunny, lively college boy change in the blink of an eye into a reckless flirt with far too much confidence. The transformation was abrupt enough that anyone else might have wondered whether this was the sa person.
Yvonne did not wonder at all.
She had sensed sothing wrong from the beginning.
Every part of Elias fit her preferences too perfectly. It was as if he had been designed as a gift for her alone, tailored so precisely that no one else would suit him and no one else would fit.
Now the question buried in her mind finally had its answer.
He was a carefully built trap.
Built only to catch her.
"No," Yvonne said at last.
Elias shook his head.
His lips, red enough to look bitten, curved into a bright and lovely smile.
"Then I’ll be the first to say it." His voice stayed light. "Dr. Quinn, you really are..."
"Very boring."
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