Reapers of the Dark (Cora Roberts #4)

Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

Sex education is a right, but not a reality.

M orning brought routine and the familiar surroundings of my home. I’d reduced my regular doctor hours to Mondays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays, so I could spend Thursdays doing admin for the bed-and-breakfast and ensuring everyone had what they needed for the weekends, which I spent with Hudson and the pack. It was a fine balancing act, but the pack wasn’t overly happy about getting only three days of my attention. Hudson spent more time during the week over there, but at night, he always crawled into my bed. It couldn’t last, this fragile diplomacy in our lives.

Hosting the supernatural heavyweights trying to prevent a war was weighing heavily on the pair of us, and I had the added tension of the super secret meetings. In summary, we were exhausted.

Maggie gave me a little excited wave as we breached the front door. “Your nine o’clock appointment is already here,” she chirped.

My gaze flicked to the grandfather clock to find it was eight-thirty. I normally spent ten minutes with Rebecca catching up about anything that happened in my absence, but the vampire princess was nowhere in sight, and I didn’t have time to seek her out. Might as well get started with my patients.

Hudson’s hand tangled in the back of my hair as he leaned in and dropped a kiss on my forehead. “See you at lunch.”

My lips tugged up. He planned on staying here today, which settled something in my soul. The need to be in his presence was becoming a concern, but not one I had the energy to fight.

He grabbed my weekend bag and stalked down the hallway to the laundry room. My prehistoric tiger was doing my washing. How domestic.

Maggie glanced at the Principal’s retreating figure, then back at me. She pushed an insulated travel mug at me. “I made you coffee.”

I grasped the heated cup with a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

“And I made your patients some.”

My lips froze on the rim. Maggie’s coffee was mediocre but tolerable, but that wasn’t what gave me pause. “Patients? Plural?”

She nodded. “Three of them.”

I frowned. This was a new patient consult, but I didn’t remember there being three names. Only one way to find out what I was in for.

Three elementals filled the space across from me. A young married couple sat at the forefront, and in the middle, with a chair positioned a little farther back, was the man’s formidable grandmother. She was trying to give me the hard-assed matriarchal stare, making my lips threaten to break out into a smile. Sorry, Mrs. Green, the head bitch shaped me. Your intimidation slips off me like water off a duck’s back.

Unfortunately, her energy was affecting the couple, who were my patients. They had barely said a word other than a polite greeting. Violet was a pretty brunette, dressed in a high-necked dress that fell to her calves. Owen was her nervous newlywed. His white button-down, tucked into his black slacks, was as stiff as his posture. He looked like he’d just rolled out of school, not the bakery he ran for his grandmother.

“This isn’t really my area of expertise,” I offered. “I can get you the name of a good fertility specialist.”

Mrs. Green narrowed her gaze. “No. Only you. I don’t want to risk their shame getting out.”

My jaw ticked. “Infertility is not shameful, and you are only adding to their stress.”

“I am his grandmother. I raised him.”

Why did these grandparents think that giving the barest amount of affection was currency to control our lives? I was over playing family politics—both my own and other peoples’.

“Leave.”

Violet blinked back tears and moved to stand. I lasered her with my hardass Roberts’ stare, which made Mrs. Green’s look like child’s play. “Not you. Sit.” Violet’s ass bounced into the chair as Owen’s mouth fell open. I turned my gaze to the woman trying to dominate the appointment. “Maggie will serve you refreshments in the parlor.”

She scowled. I leaned back and folded my arms. We entered a stare off, but both of us knew who would win. I needed nothing from her. She, however, couldn’t say the same.

She huffed and stood. “I need to speak to your grandfather,” she snapped as she squeezed Owen’s shoulder before leaving the room. I watched the door snick closed and waited until her footsteps retreated up the stairs before turning my attention to the couple in front of me.

I opened a new patient file on my laptop, added in their full names, address, and dates of birth. I needed the notes for their referral.

“How long have you been trying to conceive?” I asked.

“Two years,” Owen answered.

“Are your periods regular?” I asked Violet.

She nodded. “Every twenty-four days.”

“How often do you sleep together?”

“Every night,” Owen answered.

Okay, so they were having plenty of sex, which would make conception highly likely, and after two years, it suggests something else was happening. I could take a quick look at his swimmers under the microscope and do a scan of her abdomen, but I didn’t house the specialist equipment needed for further investigation.

“Any other medical issues?” I asked.

Violet glanced at Owen. I narrowed my gaze and waited for them to spill the beans.

“I have allergies,” Owen said.

“And I have hysteria,” Violet whispered.

She had what? “Can you expound on that?”

“Hay fever mainly, although I sometimes get a flare-up in October from spores,” Owen went on.

“That’s great, but I meant your wife and her hysteria.”

Owen’s cheeks flushed, but I didn’t have time to deal with the fragile male ego.

Violet’s eyes fell to her white-knuckled hands twisted in her lap. “Mama Green says I’m dramatic and unstable.”

Mama Green needed a reality check, and depending on Violet’s next few answers, her ass kicked.

“What are your symptoms?” I asked gently.

Owen’s forehead crumpled. “What has this got to do with us conceiving?”

“Are you a doctor?” I asked.

His eyes narrowed. “No.”

“Then leave the medical investigations to me.” Violet’s teeth dug into the bottom of her lip. This poor girl. Her husband and his overbearing grandmother, AKA Mama Green, were railroading her. “Did your mother have any fertility issues?” I asked Violet.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. They died when I was six, and Mama Green took me in.”

Ugh. So all she had heard growing up was that her emotions were signs of a mental disorder. Wonderful. This wasn’t something I could undo in a thirty minute consult.

“I can do some primary investigations, but unless there is an obvious cause, I will have to insist on a referral to a specialist.” It also meant I could get Violet alone and check she wasn’t being hurt.

“Fine,” Owen snapped. “What do we need to do?”

I stood and opened a cupboard, finding a small plastic bottle. “If you could provide me a semen sample, please.”

He took the bottle with a frown. “Is it meant to all fit in there?”

Ugh, spare me. “Just a small sample. You can dispose of any spare.”

He stood and fiddled with his belt before pulling his penis out. What was he… He wasn’t seriously about to masturbate in front of a complete stranger, was he? It took everything in me not to slap my forehead. Instead, I pointed at the restroom. “In the bathroom, please, Mr. Green.” He shuffled off to the private room, closing the door behind him.

My gaze fell on Violet. “Are you safe?”

She blinked. “What do you mean? We don’t use condoms. That would defeat the point.”

Ugh. “Is anyone hurting you, either physically or emotionally?”

She shook her head. “No, never. Owen loves me.”

I’d heard that before. “Then why do you think you have hysteria? It’s an out-of-date term used to suppress women and their genuine concerns.”

“Sometimes I get angry.”

“Everyone gets angry, Violet.”

She squeezes her eyes closed. “But I shouted at him.”

That’s it? Shouting? Then every woman under this roof needed to be sectioned, including me. “That’s part of being human,” I explained. “We are a messy mix of emotions and complex wants and needs. It doesn’t make you mentally unstable; it makes you normal.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “I am fine, other than my inability to give him a child.”

I passed her my card. “If you need me, any time, you call. Okay?”

She glared at the card with my personal number on it, hesitated, then snatched it before stuffing it in her purse. Good enough. Hopefully, what I’d said would penetrate soon.

The door flung open. That was what, two minutes? A new record. Owen swaggered out like he was God’s gift to women everywhere. Speaking of gifts, I needed to wrap that scarf. He dropped back into the seat and placed the damp sample bottle on my desk. Guess I was disinfecting it after this appointment.

I did a double-take at the jar. What the fuck was that? Why was it yellow and clear? Oh… oh wow. I snapped on a pair of plastic gloves and grabbed the full bottle. “This is what you release inside of Violet?” I checked, hoping it was a joke.

“Yes.”

They didn’t crack up laughing, so I had to assume he was being serious. But just in case Owen’s semen resembled something else, I decided to test it. I stood, taking the bottle with me to the sink and twisted the lid off the pot before dipping a tiny strip of paper inside. Yup. As I thought.

I deposited the sample and my gloves in the clinical waste bin before scrubbing my hands clean. Twice. Time to break the good news to the happy couple.

I folded myself into my chair and leaned forward on my elbows.

“Don’t you need to scan my wife?” Owen asked.

Nope. “Before that, I need to ask you some personal questions.” The pair blinked at me, and I had no idea where this conversation was about to go. “I need you to describe how you sleep together.”

Owen blinked. “Well, Violet runs a little cold.” Hmm. Right. I made a continue motion with my left hand. “So I normally spoon her to keep her warm.”

This was so much worse than I thought. “And the actual act of sleeping together? How long does that last?”

“I’m a solid eight hours kind of guy.”

No, Owen, you really aren’t. “And the sex?”

Violet sucked in a breath like I’d slapped her. Jesus Christ. They couldn’t be virgins, right? After two years? Surely instincts took over, even if she was lacking the motherly love and guidance most of us received.

“I ejaculate inside of her. That’s how babies are made.” Owen said this like he was super proud of his male prowess.

Why me?

“You ejaculate like you did in the pot?”

“That’s right.”

“Miss Roberts,” Violet said, “what’s the problem?”

The problem is that your husband has never come a day in his life, and the fact you haven’t been constantly at the doctor’s with infections is frankly a miracle. I sighed. “During the act of copulation, the man’s penis should be erect.”

They both recoiled at the thought of Owen’s trouser snake. I could sympathize.

“Then, after engaging in foreplay to ensure the woman is lubricated, he inserts his penis inside of her and they engage in sexual intercourse, resulting in ejaculation where sperm releases inside of her, and if the timing is right, that sperm will reach her egg and she conceives.” What in the ever-loving fuck were they teaching kids these days? “Where did you go to school?” I wondered, ready to make a note to call the principal.

“Mama Green homeschooled us,” Violet offered.

Figures.

“Tell me which part of what I described is difficult to understand.”

“Well, I don’t get hard,” Owen muttered.

“We have medications to help with that. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“How do I become lubricated?” Violet asked.

“Owen needs to touch you, kiss you, and learn what you like. Sex should be a pleasurable act.”

“Can you demonstrate?” Violet asked.

Excuse me? It was my turn for my mouth to drop open. “No. I can give you some websites to help inform you. Stay away from porn.”

“It’s the devil’s work,” Owen agreed.

I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed. One battle at a time, Cora. You still haven’t given them the bad news.

“Wait. Owen might not get hard, and clearly we have some work to do, but he manages to put a little inside of me before he comes. You saw the evidence.”

My hand dropped to my lap, and I stared at Owen. “The sample you gave me, the ‘release’ you put inside your wife? It’s urine.”

Sixty seconds later, I had an empty office.

Cora Roberts—sex therapist.