[WIP?, draft] Lost Girl: "Set the Cheetahs Loose" 1/? (working title, Morrigan-owned!Lauren AU)
Working Title: Set the Cheetahs Loose (but only because that's the name of the file in my Google Drive) "The Sessions" (until I change it again, yeah?)
Fandom: Lost Girl
Note: So. This has been sitting in my Google Drive account. This is that AU I've mentioned before where Lauren was drafted into the service of the Dark Fae and is the Morrigan’s human doctor. The setup scenarios can be found here and here. When I told Jen about this world, Jen was like, "Write it!" and I was like, "No!" but I kept thinking about it. So about a month ago, I set some of it down and these are the 5000 words that appeared. I like to daydream about this particular AU, probably because this Lauren and this Bo are darker, a bit more mature in relation to each other, and they are my space-time traveling duo. But y'all know I don’t write long fics. And my BIG OL' HONKING WARNING is that I haven't returned to the actual writing bits of this fic for like a month now. What follows here is the completed coherent parts of the draft I found on my Google Drive account. No promises that there’ll be more--or that if there were more, that these part wouldn't change--but I thought I'd share it because I did write it! And that's pretty accomplished for me these days!
[Dark Fae whose life Bo and Kenzi have just saved while on a case is being wheeled away into some Dark Fae operating room, leaving Bo and Kenzi staring after their would-be witness.]
“You’re injured.” The voice startled Bo and Kenzi into whirling around. A blonde in a lab coat smiled close-lipped at them even as they belatedly attempted to not look guilty or out of place in the Dark Fae clinic. At a glance Bo took note that the blonde was wearing a button-down shirt not buttoned up all the way, laying bare the fine bones of her collar, upon which perched a tattoo in black, stark against her pale skin. Worse, when Bo focused on the blonde’s face, her eyes were drawn to a scar on the blonde’s left cheek, a line that cut horizontally vaguely along the line of her cheekbone. The scarring suggested it had been a deep cut. Bo tried not to stare. “Would you like me to take a look at it?”
Bo glanced reflexively at the tear in the sleeve of her jacket, crusted and dried stiff with her blood. She’d mostly forgotten about it. “Uh, no, I’m okay. We’re just waiting for our, uh, friend.”
The blonde’s eyebrows lifted in question. “Are you sure? You have some time before your friend will feel up to talking to anyone.”
The woman addressed them in a serene, matter-of-fact tone without a change in expression. The words sounded like they should have held humor but Bo couldn’t tell. Trying to puzzle it out, Bo relaxed a bit. “I’m okay, really. I’ll heal.”
The blonde nodded slowly. Her eyes went a little distant, looking past or through Bo. It was a bit unnerving.
Thinking about how the Light Fae treated her like a persona non grata whenever she set foot in their labs, Bo couldn’t help the curiosity that led her to ask, “Are you even allowed to help me?”
The eyes snapped back into focus and raked across Bo’s face. The smile that hadn’t faded now deepened at the corners. That was definitely amusement. “Why wouldn’t I be allowed to help you?”
“Um,” Bo replied eloquently. Kenzi rolled her eyes and supplied, “Hello? Unaligned succubus? Not one of your peeps? Thus not eligible for the Dark Fae health insurance plan?”
Bo shot her human bestie an annoyed look. “What?” Kenzi muttered defensively.
“I know who you are,” the blonde said simply. Bo turned to her in confusion, which only grew as the blonde continued. “Bo, right? Congratulations on passing your test. Well, belated congratulations.”
“Uh, thanks,” Bo said slowly.
The blonde cocked her head a bit. “I heard you underwent it without any training?”
“Something like that.”
“Incredible,” the blonde said under her breath but not softly enough that they couldn’t hear it. Addressing them again, the blonde asked, “Have you received any training since?”
“As far as I understand how things work, that’s a ‘clan’ thing and I didn’t pick a side, so . . .” Bo let the conclusion hang unspoken. The blonde merely nodded, again withdrawing somewhere into her thoughts, gaze growing distant.
“Maybe I can help you with that,” she said after a moment of silence.
“What?” Bo asked before she could stop the incredulity- and hope-laced word from leaping out of her mouth. She couldn’t reel it back, so she swallowed hard against the excitement, fear, and disbelief that crowded her chest. “How? I mean, you’re Dark Fae and I’m unaligned. None of the Light Fae even give me the time of day.”
“I’m Dr. Lewis,” the woman said, as if that explained everything. Bo’s face was a blank of incomprehension. The doctor read it, then glanced away briefly and smiled self-deprecatingly, a small trill of laughter escaping on an exhalation. “Okay. Sorry. Why don’t I take a look at that cut and I’ll explain?” She gestured with an arm toward an exam room.
“Can you do that?” Bo asked hesitantly.
“I can do that,” Dr. Lewis said.
Bo and Kenzi exchanged looks. Kenzi’s vibrant blue eyes widened in a message that clearly screamed “DANGER, DANGER, THESE BITCHES BE DARK FAE.” If Dyson or Trick were here, Bo was sure they’d be telling her the same thing. (Perhaps not in those words.)
Bo turned back to the doctor, who stood watching and waiting patiently.
“What’s the catch?” Bo asked.
“No catch to look at your arm,” the Dark Fae doctor replied.
“So there is a catch,” Kenzi interjected in a tone that said Told you so.
“As with all things fae, it’s complicated.” The doctor made a deliberate sweep of the room with her eyes before again gesturing, with her head this time, at the door. “Why don’t we step inside and talk?”
Bo’s eyes had tracked the path the doctor’s eyes had taken around them. She noticed, then, that they’d garnered a small audience. Lab techs, doctors, and nurses in crisp white coats, scrubs, and medical-y attire milled around seemingly going about their business, but their eyes occasionally strayed to the trio and there were way too many ears to make Bo comfortable.
“Okay,” she relented and looped her good arm through Kenzi’s. The human protested but Bo dragged her along into the exam room. The doctor followed a step behind, pausing briefly at the threshold to call out an inquiry regarding her next appointment--Bo couldn’t hear the answer that came back--and then swept inside, shutting the door so that it let out a definitive click.
Bo suddenly felt caged.
Taking a deep breath, she pressed her heels into the floor to keep from bolting. Dr. Lewis smiled at her as she moved to the sink to wash her hands. “Please, have a seat on the table. If you could take off your jacket too.”
“We’re not going to have to pay for this, right?” Kenzi asked, crossing her arms. Bo tried to shrug out of her jacket but the sleeve snagged on her wound, glued in place by her own blood. With a wince she shook it out gently, hissing as dried blood flaked away.
The doctor laughed, but her eyes weren’t exactly kind when she glanced over at the small time con. Kenzi almost looked taken aback when she made brief eye contact with the doctor and if Bo hadn’t been watching closely, she wouldn’t have seen the way Kenzi stiffened. It made Bo’s hackles rise a bit.
“No payment,” the doctor said over the running water of the faucet. “Not this time.”
Kenzi’s eyes narrowed. “So this time’s like a free sample, but, what, next time we get a bill in the mail?”
Bo, free of her jacket but unsure where to put it, had stilled to watch the argument rising between her sidekick best friend and the Dark Fae doctor. Dr. Lewis turned off the water, straightened up, and sighed. The forced smile she sent Kenzi’s way appeared to have a hint of apology. “I’m sorry, I’m not presenting this very clearly. Words aren’t my strong suit.”
Kenzi shifted her weight to exude maximum sass. “Explain, quick-like.”
Dr. Lewis exhaled, thin-lipped, and waved her hand before the mounted paper dispenser’s motion sensor. Drying her hands, she smiled at Bo. “Please, have a seat on the examination table.” When no one moved, the doctor added. “I’ll explain as I clean your cut.”
Bo and Kenzi exchanged another look as the doctor wrestled on a pair of neoprene gloves and plucked disinfectant wipes and some q-tips out of containers on the counter. Kenzi’s look said, “LET’S RUN FOR IT, WHILE WE STILL HAVE THE CHANCE!” Bo replied with a slight negative shake of her head. Kenzi’s eyes widened in urgency, but Bo had turned away to settle herself on the exam table.
Dr. Lewis approached with a wipe and a smile. “Thank you,” she muttered softly to Bo as she gently swiped around the wound to clear away the worst of the blood. Bo winced as the antiseptic seeped into her open wound.
“Sorry,” Dr. Lewis said, but commented that the cut didn’t look bad. “You mentioned healing. I assume that your wounds heal when you feed?”
“I guess, if that’s what you call it,” Bo said a bit uncomfortably.
Lauren glanced into her face. “Have you talked to no one about your abilities?”
“Not . . . really,” Bo admitted. “I get that sex has something to do with it. That when I get . . . hungry . . . I need to . . . .” She turned away, ashamed to think of the years she’d spent killing people when that overwhelming need to fill that emptiness inside overcame her. “Can you help me? Can you make it go away?”
“I can’t--” Dr. Lewis began but Kenzi cut in with a sharp, “Whoa, Bo-bo, stop right there! Doctor Strange here hasn’t told us how this deal works yet.”
Dr. Lewis glanced over at Kenzi and then back at Bo. “If by ‘make it go away’ you mean, can I make your hunger go away? No, I can’t. Your hunger is a biological imperative. As a succubus, you need to feed--on sexual energy, that is ‘chi’--to survive.”
Bo’s expression fell. Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes but she blinked them away. “I--I don’t want to kill anymore.”
Dr. Lewis’s face went very carefully still for a second. “You lack control.” Her eyes, cold and clinical, passed over Bo’s face--from the succubus’s eyes to her mouth to her cheeks and back up to her eyes--and as they did so, they seemed to soften so that when their gazes met again, Bo felt that spark of hope return, growing as Dr. Lewis said, like an “amen” echoing up from Bo’s childhood, “We may be able to work on that. I worked with an incubus once, so I have some understanding of your abilities. With control, you should be able to feed safely from human and fae alike without killing.”
Bo could have kissed the words right off her lips.
“What’s the catch, doc?” Kenzi interrupted.
Dr. Lewis straightened and gave Bo’s arm another look. “Let me bandage that in the meanwhile.”
Kenzi tapped her foot, her boots marking time like the beats of Bo’s heart. When the doctor retreated to gather additional supplies, Bo took the moment to compose herself before Dr. Lewis was back, binding her arm.
“The ‘catch’ is this,” Dr. Lewis said softly, eyes on her task. “If I help you, you allow me to study you.”
“And?” Kenzi pressed.
“That’s it,” Dr. Lewis said. Kenzi’s look of skepticism could have made George Washington doubt his own veracity. After a moment, Dr. Lewis added, “But.”
“I knew there was a but!” Kenzi crowed. Bo frowned, both at the “but” and Kenzi’s enthusiasm over her dubious “victory.”
Dr. Lewis secured the bandage and stood before the succubus. She made sure to hold Bo’s eyes. “You need to have a clear understanding that I am a doctor of the Dark Fae. More than that, I am the Morrigan’s doctor. I do not withhold information from her. My patients do not enjoy patient-doctor confidentiality. Do you understand?”
Bo bit her lower lip. “So I have to accept that it’s going to be patient-doctor-the-Morrigan confidentiality?”
Dr. Lewis’ lips twitched at the corners. “Something like that,” she echoed Bo’s earlier response.
“You never said if you’re even allowed to offer me help,” Bo pointed out.
“I am.” The doctor’s head canted to the side a bit. “You could say I have a special dispensation from the Morrigan.”
“So you can learn everybody’s dirty secrets,” Kenzi groused.
Dr. Lewis held Bo’s gaze and then she huffed with a small shrug. She reached into her lab coat and removed a business card. She held it out to Bo.
“Those are the terms,” Dr. Lewis said. “If you’re interested, call to make an appointment.”
Bo took the card without breaking eye contact.
“Now, I have to ask you ladies to excuse me. I have an appointment arriving in ten minutes and you have a friend to visit.”
*
About a week later, Bo found herself at the Dal, a tall glass of beer on the bar, small plain business card in her hands.
She was hungry.
She’d taken to studying the business card when her hunger pangs visited. It was better now, with Dyson willing to help her feed and heal (though he put up a half-hearted protest the last time she’d paid him a visit) and the knowledge that her fellow fae were hardier than the fragile victims of her past, but none of that had abolished the tendrils of fear that tied her insides into knots every time her hunger grew and the moment she began to feed.
Bo’s daydreams were beginning to fill with fantasies of having control, of being able to say no, of being able to stop and feed when she decided she wanted to.
She tapped the card on the bartop.
“Hey, Trick,” she called to the barkeep at the opposite end of the bar. Trick looked up with a smile and ambled over.
“What’s up?”
“Have you ever heard of a,” Bo flipped the card over so that Trick could read the print, “Dr. Lauren Lewis?”
Trick peered at the card and reached for it. Pinching it between thumb and forefinger, he studied it and then smiled to himself. Bo wasn’t sure what the smile meant. The card itself was a letdown of bland proportions. In plain type was centered “Lauren Lewis M.D.” under which was embossed the design that was Dr. Lewis’ tattoo, and under that a phone number. No address, no additional contact information, no titles, no nothing.
It was rather boring to stare at.
“Lauren is the Morrigan’s human doctor,” Trick answered plainly, handing the card back to Bo.
“Whoa!” exclaimed Kenzi from Bo’s side. The human sprawled out on the countertop in an explosion of shock. “Hold up. Dr. Freeze is a human?”
Bo’s own astonishment kept her from berating Kenzi. She recalled her brief desire to kiss the doctor out of gratitude and hope and suppressed a shudder.
Trick shrugged. “She’s a good doctor, from what I hear. She’s been with the Morrigan for--it must be going on five years now.”
“Does she really treat Light and Dark Fae?” Bo asked.
Trick nodded. “That’s what they say. It wasn’t always the case, but the Morrigan seems to allow it. Whether or not Light Fae are willing to risk going to her is another story.”
“She’s a total narc, right?” Kenzi cut in.
“She’s very close to the Morrigan,” Trick said carefully.
“See, Bo! Listen to the Trickster! She’s bad news!” Kenzi yelled at her superpowered friend.
“She said . . . she said that maybe she could help me learn control,” Bo confessed. But how could a human teach a succubus to control her powers?
Trick frowned, but his expression was also a bit sad. “Perhaps. I don’t know enough about Lauren to comment on her abilities and what she can and cannot do for you. She’s curious, that’s for sure, and has consulted me regarding fae lore in the past. She comes to the Dal every now and again and we’ve had discussions about fae history and politics. I find her to be knowledgeable. Quite so, actually, considering she’s human. But . . . there’s very little that comes without price and with the Morrigan in the picture . . . . You’d have to be very careful.”
“Well, she made it clear that if I wanted her help, I’d have to be okay with the Morrigan knowing my business. But she’s not asking me to choose a side . . . .”
Trick’s frown dipped into disapproval. “Unaligned is unprotected, Bo.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Bo waved him off. “I know.” She bounced the edge of the business card against the countertop and then slipped it back into her pocket. Over the course of the night, she thought she could feel it burning into her side, a slender invitation to promises unimaginable.
*
“Hey,” Bo chirped at the hunched figure of Dr. Lewis, who was peering into a microscope. The doctor gave a start and a small cry, whipping around with a hand over her heart.
“Whoa, hey, sorry,” Bo said, hands held out in front of her placatingly, but she felt herself grinning. The doctor took a few calming breaths and then eyed Bo with a mix of confusion and irritation.
“Bo. Hello. Do we have an appointment?”
“No,” Bo said slowly.
“Then how did you get into the clinic?” Dr. Lewis asked, not looking any less confused or annoyed.
Bo reached into her pocket, scissored the business card between her index and middle fingers, withdrew it, and waved it in the air. “I flashed this at security and they let me in.”
Dr. Lewis nodded slowly. “I see. Security probably should have phoned Lindsay before letting you in.”
“Oh,” Bo said quietly, feeling a bit rejected by the doctor’s cold welcome. “Well, I was hoping I could ask you a few questions. About--about your offer.”
“Make an appointment,” Dr. Lewis said curtly.
“Seriously?” Bo said, jaw hanging open. “But I’m already here and--”
“Make an appointment,” Dr. Lewis repeated firmly. Then she blunted the edge of her tone with a soft “Please.”
A spike of anger made Bo petulant. “Hey, Doc, you were the one who offered to help me and I just want to see what you meant by that, exactly.”
“And I told you to make an appointment,” the doctor countered, giving no ground. If Bo intimidated her at all, she wasn’t showing it. “My offer still stands, but I’m very busy. Now, please, make an appointment with Lindsay and I’ll see you then.”
Bo opened her mouth to retort but she was almost shaking with fury--and hunger. Her mouth shut with a clash of teeth that made her jaw ache. With one last glare, Bo whirled on her heel and stormed out. “Thanks for nothing!”
*
In her anger, Bo had crushed the business card in a balled fist and, disgusted, thrown it into the first trashcan she’d passed.
A few days later, she found herself thinking about that crinkled piece of paper sitting in a dumpster or a landfill.
My offer still stands, Dr. Lewis had said.
“Dammit,” Bo muttered to herself as she lay in bed staring up at the canopy, hungry and wanting. (Wanting Dyson, the sashaying waitresses at the Dal, the soulful street artist strumming his guitar on the corner of [some Toronto streets!], the yummy no-nonsense meter maid that had almost given her a ticket until Bo had “convinced” her otherwise, the use of her powers only making the yawning emptiness in her even greedier, for everyone, for anything, God, she was so hungry.)
“Dammit.”
As it turned out, Bo had memorized the phone number on the card.
*
“So,” Bo said meekly from where she sat on the exam table, gripping the edge with her hands and resisting the urge to swing her legs like a nervous repetent schoolgirl before the headmistress, “I have an appointment this time.”
“I see that. Thank you.” Dr. Lewis sounded amused. That was good, Bo decided. Especially since, like the first time they’d met, she wasn’t reading many helpful hints in the doctor’s energy.
“Your secretary asked me to sign a bunch of scary waivers that required my initials beside clauses that stated things like that my clan wouldn’t come after you seeking revenge in the event of my death and that I understood that anything regarding my treatment or medical history or anything I say are liable to be relayed to the Morrigan. I told her I just wanted a consultation with you and sort of refused to sign any of them. Is that okay?”
Dr. Lewis actually smiled. Better. It was a nice smile, even if it didn’t quite reach her large, searching eyes. “Okay.”
“So,” Bo said slowly with flagging confidence in the face of the monosyllabic answers, “can I ask you a few questions?”
Dr. Lewis nodded and set aside the clipboard she’d brought into the exam room with her. She leaned against the sink counter and crossed her arms. The movement drew Bo’s eyes to the tattoo and she had to consciously raise them back to the doctor’s face. With the scar. “Go ahead.”
Bo cleared her throat and tried to maintain eye contact. “How would you . . . go about helping me?”
“That’s a good question.”
“Does that mean you have no clue?”
Dr. Lewis let out a small laugh, head bowing and lips stretching. The laughter in response to Bo’s doubt was unexpectedly reassuring, particularly when the doctor said, first to the floor and then to Bo, “I have some ideas, starting with a serum I hope can help curb your appetite.”
“You have something like that?”
“Maybe. It was originally synthesized for an incubus, but I think with a few tweaks it could work for you as well.”
Bo had to haul her jaw closed. “Oh, wow. Where do I sign up? Can you give it to me right now?”
“It’s not a long-term solution,” cautioned the doctor.
Bo, who had had no solutions except dealing death upon her lovers across the past ten years and with only her gnawing hunger as a constant companion, was ready to exclaim Screw long-term solutions! but had enough presence of mind to stuff down her first impulse. “Okay. I take it you have a long-term plan?”
“It involves you learning control,” Dr. Lewis said with a little smile.
“How do you plan to teach me that? Put a shock collar on me and jolt me every time I’m about to suck someone dry?”
The doctor let out another small laugh. “Would you like that?”
Bo’s mouth dropped open--in shock, in indignation, in, well, she had to admit, arousal--as the twinkling eyes and prodding, teasing tone left no doubt that the doctor had intended it to sound as suggestive as it had.
“No,” Bo said at last, thinking too late that it would have been better if she had ignored the question altogether, unsure, now that she was thinking about it--and she was thinking about it--if she really did mean no, and could the doctor please stop looking at her all intense and probing? Bo took a deep breath. “You really shouldn’t tease a hungry succubus.”
“Teasing a hungry succubus might be the way to help her,” Dr. Lewis said thoughtfully. When Bo gaped at her--which Bo was annoyed to realize she was doing a lot--the doctor hastily added, “In a controlled environment, of course. We would need to assess your abilities, measure the degree of control you have, and introduce stimulants in a gradual manner. That would ideally let us pinpoint the stimuli that trigger your hunger and let you come to identify and be aware of them yourself. Then it would be a matter of testing and practice and getting you into a regular feeding regimen.”
As she spoke, the doctor began to gesture in the air with her hands. Bo found their dance hypnotic. A bit dazed, Bo asked, “You want to stick me in a room with someone naked and see what happens?”
“Maybe. Eventually.” Then there it was, a lightning flash of something in the good doctor’s energy, and Bo had to stop herself from licking her lips. After a moment, she wasn’t sure she’d seen it at all or if it’d been a product of her ravenous imagination.
“I am really hungry,” Bo said quietly.
Dr. Lewis studied her face closely and then nodded. “Let me get that serum. We’ll see if it helps at all, or if it will need adjustments. Then you should pay Lindsay another visit, sign those waivers, and set another appointment. Okay?”
“Okay,” said Bo in a small voice.
Dr. Lewis lingered where she stood leaning against the counter for an extra breath and then smiled at her. Bo thought it might have even reached her eyes. Bo smiled back.
*
Bo was staring at the scar. In her defense, there wasn’t much else to look at with the doctor so close and intent on examining every part of the succubus.
“Did we ever properly introduce ourselves?” Bo asked in the keen awareness that the doctor was getting intimately acquainted with her body. The first step toward getting Bo control was apparently a comprehensive physical, but Bo wasn’t sure how being practically naked and in the proximity of a beautiful, albeit distant and deliberately professional, woman was the wisest first step on this journey. Not that Bo felt self-conscious, but it did feel a bit unfair with the doctor fully clothed and her in a state of undress.
“I’m not sure the unaligned succubus needs a self-introduction.”
“Or the Morrigan’s human doctor?” Bo quipped.
Dr. Lewis’ eyebrows rose and fell in an approximation of a shrug. Bo smirked.
“I’m Bo Dennis,” Bo said, catching the darting hazel eyes.
The blonde smiled indulgently. “Lauren Lewis. Nice to meet you, Bo.”
“Lauren.” Bo drew out the two syllables as if weighing them. “Can I call you Lauren?”
“That wouldn’t be very professional,” the doctor demurred, but Bo noted she hadn’t said no. It was as good as granting permission, Bo decided. “Lauren” it was and it made the woman seem softer in Bo’s mind. The trick would be getting the reality to match up.
Why Bo wanted the reality to match the image she was building in her mind, she couldn’t have said. Maybe it was the way Kenzi sniped relentlessly about the “frigid” doctor whenever Bo mentioned having an appointment that made her want to prove her cynical bestie wrong. (Even if Bo initially had shared the silver tongue’s opinion--and had yet to see much in the doctor’s behavior or aura that contradicted that assessment.) Maybe it was because everyone kept urging her to exercise caution and Bo wasn’t the best at following orders. Maybe it was way the Dark Fae doctor made Bo work for her time and attention and didn’t tolerate Bo showing up whenever she wanted, setting down challenges that sent Bo running, only to come crawling back.
Maybe Bo just wanted to crack that calm exterior and see what lurked beneath it.
“I’m not really a stickler for rules,” Bo said flippantly.
“So I gathered,” Dr. Lewis--Lauren--remarked as she jotted down a few notes.
“But I take it, you are?” Bo asked.
“I can’t imagine what might give you that idea,” Lauren deadpanned. Bo smiled. She was starting to get the doctor’s sense of humor.
“Do you ever let loose, doctor?” Bo asked, letting a flirtatious note carry her voice. “Break a few rules?”
The pen stilled in its scritching. After a moment, Lauren raised her eyes and looked at Bo over the top of the clipboard. “I’m a human doctor in the service of the Dark Fae who openly treats Dark and Light fae alike. You don’t think I’ve broken a few rules?”
Lauren’s eyes and tone were hard. Bo had to swallow to wet her suddenly dry throat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean--”
Lauren dropped her eyes back to the clipboard while something like self-admonishment twisted her lips into an awkward smile. In a much lighter register, she cut Bo off. “That is, I may be known to go out every now and again and drink more than is considered wise for a mere human to consume. That’s me. Human doctor, occasional lush.”
The complete change in tone gave Bo whiplash. She fumbled for a response. “Well, I’d like to--get a glimpse of--Lauren the lush.”
That came out less flattering than Bo had intended. But Lauren merely focused on Bo’s face through her eyelashes and with dire gravity said, “You have a long way to go before we reach that step in your training regimen, succubus.” For a breathless moment their gazes held. Then Lauren shattered the fragile thread by smacking the end of her pen against the clipboard. Keeping her smile and tone light, she added, “Something to look forward to, perhaps?”
Bo had no idea if Lauren was serious or not. She wasn’t sure which she wanted Lauren to be.
*
“You mentioned before that sometimes Lauren consults you,” Bo said to Trick over a glass of beer. “That she comes to the Dal. Does she come often?”
Trick’s eyebrows shot up at Lauren’s name. Bo refused to look abashed.
“Not often,” Trick said carefully. “She’s welcome here, of course.”
“Well, yeah,” Bo said, running her thumb down the curve of the glass. “Does she . . . drink a lot?”
Trick’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I recall maybe one or two times when she may have had a little much. I don’t know, Bo. I’m not exactly her minder.”
That made Bo frown. “Does she have a favorite drink?”
Trick spread his empty hands. “Is there a reason for the twenty questions?”
“No, I just--” Had been thinking about one uptight human doctor letting loose and breaking rules. “--was curious.”
*
“I like your . . . tattoo,” Bo said lamely, skimming her fingertips over the ink-stained flesh, feeling the contrast between Lauren’s soft skin and the deep, puckered scars. Lauren inhaled with the minutest sharpness. Contrary to Bo’s expectations, no flutters of lust colored Lauren’s aura at the touch. Lauren smiled tightly before relaxing a bit.
“I’ll send your compliments to the Morrigan,” Lauren said as she withdrew her fingers from the gentle exploration of Bo’s lymph nodes.
“What?” Bo murmured.
Lauren reached up and caressed the tattoo. Bo’s eyes were riveted to the movement, the way Lauren’s fingers ghosted across her own skin. “This is the Morrigan’s sigil. It marks me as her--ward.”
“You mean she’s your guardian?” Bo asked with uncertainty. She had a hard time picturing the slinky, sleazy Morrigan being anyone’s caretaker.
Lauren frowned, just a bit. “Didn’t you claim Kenzi as your human?”
“Yeah, but that’s just because Trick said she couldn’t be in the Dal otherwise.”
Lauren took a sharp breath and then released it. She fiddled with her stethoscope as she said, “Fae regard claimed humans as property of the claimants. The Morrigan is my guardian in a sense, yes, but it’s more accurate to say that she owns me.”
“What?” Bo guffawed. “That’s stupid. Nobody can own anyone else.”
Lauren’s eyes darkened with that dangerous, hard edge that could make the small hairs on the back of Bo’s neck rise. They softened just as quickly as Lauren sighed and met Bo’s eyes. “Yes, they can. Yes, the Morrigan owns me. Yes, you own Kenzi, in the eyes of fae law.”
“I don’t own Kenzi!” Bo burst out angrily.
Lauren’s lips quirked into a smile, tranquil and amused in the face of Bo’s affront. “I have to admit I was a bit surprised to learn that not only was Kenzi human, but that you’d claimed her.”
“She’s my friend,” Bo said plaintively.
“I know,” Lauren said quietly. “Anyone can see it.”
Bo hesitated but then ventured, “The Morrigan isn’t your friend.”
“No.” The word was almost swallowed in soft laughter. But not ha-ha funny laughter, but a sound that was like ground glass. “Not quite.”
Bo searched Lauren’s face. The doctor was always hard to read and Bo didn’t know what she was looking for. Something, the succubus thought, to match the sadness she felt inside herself looking at the doctor right now. But if Lauren felt sad, it was buried beyond the scope of Bo’s gaze.
“How can you . . .” Bo let her words trail off, unsure how she had intended to finish the sentence. How can you stand it? How can you live like that?
“How can I . . . ?” Lauren prompted. Her eyes darted between Bo’s eyes, one and then the other and back again, and then crinkled at the corners as she smiled. “How can I waste so much time when we’re here to teach you some control? Let’s start, shall we?”
Fandom: Lost Girl
Note: So. This has been sitting in my Google Drive account. This is that AU I've mentioned before where Lauren was drafted into the service of the Dark Fae and is the Morrigan’s human doctor. The setup scenarios can be found here and here. When I told Jen about this world, Jen was like, "Write it!" and I was like, "No!" but I kept thinking about it. So about a month ago, I set some of it down and these are the 5000 words that appeared. I like to daydream about this particular AU, probably because this Lauren and this Bo are darker, a bit more mature in relation to each other, and they are my space-time traveling duo. But y'all know I don’t write long fics. And my BIG OL' HONKING WARNING is that I haven't returned to the actual writing bits of this fic for like a month now. What follows here is the completed coherent parts of the draft I found on my Google Drive account. No promises that there’ll be more--or that if there were more, that these part wouldn't change--but I thought I'd share it because I did write it! And that's pretty accomplished for me these days!
[Dark Fae whose life Bo and Kenzi have just saved while on a case is being wheeled away into some Dark Fae operating room, leaving Bo and Kenzi staring after their would-be witness.]
“You’re injured.” The voice startled Bo and Kenzi into whirling around. A blonde in a lab coat smiled close-lipped at them even as they belatedly attempted to not look guilty or out of place in the Dark Fae clinic. At a glance Bo took note that the blonde was wearing a button-down shirt not buttoned up all the way, laying bare the fine bones of her collar, upon which perched a tattoo in black, stark against her pale skin. Worse, when Bo focused on the blonde’s face, her eyes were drawn to a scar on the blonde’s left cheek, a line that cut horizontally vaguely along the line of her cheekbone. The scarring suggested it had been a deep cut. Bo tried not to stare. “Would you like me to take a look at it?”
Bo glanced reflexively at the tear in the sleeve of her jacket, crusted and dried stiff with her blood. She’d mostly forgotten about it. “Uh, no, I’m okay. We’re just waiting for our, uh, friend.”
The blonde’s eyebrows lifted in question. “Are you sure? You have some time before your friend will feel up to talking to anyone.”
The woman addressed them in a serene, matter-of-fact tone without a change in expression. The words sounded like they should have held humor but Bo couldn’t tell. Trying to puzzle it out, Bo relaxed a bit. “I’m okay, really. I’ll heal.”
The blonde nodded slowly. Her eyes went a little distant, looking past or through Bo. It was a bit unnerving.
Thinking about how the Light Fae treated her like a persona non grata whenever she set foot in their labs, Bo couldn’t help the curiosity that led her to ask, “Are you even allowed to help me?”
The eyes snapped back into focus and raked across Bo’s face. The smile that hadn’t faded now deepened at the corners. That was definitely amusement. “Why wouldn’t I be allowed to help you?”
“Um,” Bo replied eloquently. Kenzi rolled her eyes and supplied, “Hello? Unaligned succubus? Not one of your peeps? Thus not eligible for the Dark Fae health insurance plan?”
Bo shot her human bestie an annoyed look. “What?” Kenzi muttered defensively.
“I know who you are,” the blonde said simply. Bo turned to her in confusion, which only grew as the blonde continued. “Bo, right? Congratulations on passing your test. Well, belated congratulations.”
“Uh, thanks,” Bo said slowly.
The blonde cocked her head a bit. “I heard you underwent it without any training?”
“Something like that.”
“Incredible,” the blonde said under her breath but not softly enough that they couldn’t hear it. Addressing them again, the blonde asked, “Have you received any training since?”
“As far as I understand how things work, that’s a ‘clan’ thing and I didn’t pick a side, so . . .” Bo let the conclusion hang unspoken. The blonde merely nodded, again withdrawing somewhere into her thoughts, gaze growing distant.
“Maybe I can help you with that,” she said after a moment of silence.
“What?” Bo asked before she could stop the incredulity- and hope-laced word from leaping out of her mouth. She couldn’t reel it back, so she swallowed hard against the excitement, fear, and disbelief that crowded her chest. “How? I mean, you’re Dark Fae and I’m unaligned. None of the Light Fae even give me the time of day.”
“I’m Dr. Lewis,” the woman said, as if that explained everything. Bo’s face was a blank of incomprehension. The doctor read it, then glanced away briefly and smiled self-deprecatingly, a small trill of laughter escaping on an exhalation. “Okay. Sorry. Why don’t I take a look at that cut and I’ll explain?” She gestured with an arm toward an exam room.
“Can you do that?” Bo asked hesitantly.
“I can do that,” Dr. Lewis said.
Bo and Kenzi exchanged looks. Kenzi’s vibrant blue eyes widened in a message that clearly screamed “DANGER, DANGER, THESE BITCHES BE DARK FAE.” If Dyson or Trick were here, Bo was sure they’d be telling her the same thing. (Perhaps not in those words.)
Bo turned back to the doctor, who stood watching and waiting patiently.
“What’s the catch?” Bo asked.
“No catch to look at your arm,” the Dark Fae doctor replied.
“So there is a catch,” Kenzi interjected in a tone that said Told you so.
“As with all things fae, it’s complicated.” The doctor made a deliberate sweep of the room with her eyes before again gesturing, with her head this time, at the door. “Why don’t we step inside and talk?”
Bo’s eyes had tracked the path the doctor’s eyes had taken around them. She noticed, then, that they’d garnered a small audience. Lab techs, doctors, and nurses in crisp white coats, scrubs, and medical-y attire milled around seemingly going about their business, but their eyes occasionally strayed to the trio and there were way too many ears to make Bo comfortable.
“Okay,” she relented and looped her good arm through Kenzi’s. The human protested but Bo dragged her along into the exam room. The doctor followed a step behind, pausing briefly at the threshold to call out an inquiry regarding her next appointment--Bo couldn’t hear the answer that came back--and then swept inside, shutting the door so that it let out a definitive click.
Bo suddenly felt caged.
Taking a deep breath, she pressed her heels into the floor to keep from bolting. Dr. Lewis smiled at her as she moved to the sink to wash her hands. “Please, have a seat on the table. If you could take off your jacket too.”
“We’re not going to have to pay for this, right?” Kenzi asked, crossing her arms. Bo tried to shrug out of her jacket but the sleeve snagged on her wound, glued in place by her own blood. With a wince she shook it out gently, hissing as dried blood flaked away.
The doctor laughed, but her eyes weren’t exactly kind when she glanced over at the small time con. Kenzi almost looked taken aback when she made brief eye contact with the doctor and if Bo hadn’t been watching closely, she wouldn’t have seen the way Kenzi stiffened. It made Bo’s hackles rise a bit.
“No payment,” the doctor said over the running water of the faucet. “Not this time.”
Kenzi’s eyes narrowed. “So this time’s like a free sample, but, what, next time we get a bill in the mail?”
Bo, free of her jacket but unsure where to put it, had stilled to watch the argument rising between her sidekick best friend and the Dark Fae doctor. Dr. Lewis turned off the water, straightened up, and sighed. The forced smile she sent Kenzi’s way appeared to have a hint of apology. “I’m sorry, I’m not presenting this very clearly. Words aren’t my strong suit.”
Kenzi shifted her weight to exude maximum sass. “Explain, quick-like.”
Dr. Lewis exhaled, thin-lipped, and waved her hand before the mounted paper dispenser’s motion sensor. Drying her hands, she smiled at Bo. “Please, have a seat on the examination table.” When no one moved, the doctor added. “I’ll explain as I clean your cut.”
Bo and Kenzi exchanged another look as the doctor wrestled on a pair of neoprene gloves and plucked disinfectant wipes and some q-tips out of containers on the counter. Kenzi’s look said, “LET’S RUN FOR IT, WHILE WE STILL HAVE THE CHANCE!” Bo replied with a slight negative shake of her head. Kenzi’s eyes widened in urgency, but Bo had turned away to settle herself on the exam table.
Dr. Lewis approached with a wipe and a smile. “Thank you,” she muttered softly to Bo as she gently swiped around the wound to clear away the worst of the blood. Bo winced as the antiseptic seeped into her open wound.
“Sorry,” Dr. Lewis said, but commented that the cut didn’t look bad. “You mentioned healing. I assume that your wounds heal when you feed?”
“I guess, if that’s what you call it,” Bo said a bit uncomfortably.
Lauren glanced into her face. “Have you talked to no one about your abilities?”
“Not . . . really,” Bo admitted. “I get that sex has something to do with it. That when I get . . . hungry . . . I need to . . . .” She turned away, ashamed to think of the years she’d spent killing people when that overwhelming need to fill that emptiness inside overcame her. “Can you help me? Can you make it go away?”
“I can’t--” Dr. Lewis began but Kenzi cut in with a sharp, “Whoa, Bo-bo, stop right there! Doctor Strange here hasn’t told us how this deal works yet.”
Dr. Lewis glanced over at Kenzi and then back at Bo. “If by ‘make it go away’ you mean, can I make your hunger go away? No, I can’t. Your hunger is a biological imperative. As a succubus, you need to feed--on sexual energy, that is ‘chi’--to survive.”
Bo’s expression fell. Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes but she blinked them away. “I--I don’t want to kill anymore.”
Dr. Lewis’s face went very carefully still for a second. “You lack control.” Her eyes, cold and clinical, passed over Bo’s face--from the succubus’s eyes to her mouth to her cheeks and back up to her eyes--and as they did so, they seemed to soften so that when their gazes met again, Bo felt that spark of hope return, growing as Dr. Lewis said, like an “amen” echoing up from Bo’s childhood, “We may be able to work on that. I worked with an incubus once, so I have some understanding of your abilities. With control, you should be able to feed safely from human and fae alike without killing.”
Bo could have kissed the words right off her lips.
“What’s the catch, doc?” Kenzi interrupted.
Dr. Lewis straightened and gave Bo’s arm another look. “Let me bandage that in the meanwhile.”
Kenzi tapped her foot, her boots marking time like the beats of Bo’s heart. When the doctor retreated to gather additional supplies, Bo took the moment to compose herself before Dr. Lewis was back, binding her arm.
“The ‘catch’ is this,” Dr. Lewis said softly, eyes on her task. “If I help you, you allow me to study you.”
“And?” Kenzi pressed.
“That’s it,” Dr. Lewis said. Kenzi’s look of skepticism could have made George Washington doubt his own veracity. After a moment, Dr. Lewis added, “But.”
“I knew there was a but!” Kenzi crowed. Bo frowned, both at the “but” and Kenzi’s enthusiasm over her dubious “victory.”
Dr. Lewis secured the bandage and stood before the succubus. She made sure to hold Bo’s eyes. “You need to have a clear understanding that I am a doctor of the Dark Fae. More than that, I am the Morrigan’s doctor. I do not withhold information from her. My patients do not enjoy patient-doctor confidentiality. Do you understand?”
Bo bit her lower lip. “So I have to accept that it’s going to be patient-doctor-the-Morrigan confidentiality?”
Dr. Lewis’ lips twitched at the corners. “Something like that,” she echoed Bo’s earlier response.
“You never said if you’re even allowed to offer me help,” Bo pointed out.
“I am.” The doctor’s head canted to the side a bit. “You could say I have a special dispensation from the Morrigan.”
“So you can learn everybody’s dirty secrets,” Kenzi groused.
Dr. Lewis held Bo’s gaze and then she huffed with a small shrug. She reached into her lab coat and removed a business card. She held it out to Bo.
“Those are the terms,” Dr. Lewis said. “If you’re interested, call to make an appointment.”
Bo took the card without breaking eye contact.
“Now, I have to ask you ladies to excuse me. I have an appointment arriving in ten minutes and you have a friend to visit.”
*
About a week later, Bo found herself at the Dal, a tall glass of beer on the bar, small plain business card in her hands.
She was hungry.
She’d taken to studying the business card when her hunger pangs visited. It was better now, with Dyson willing to help her feed and heal (though he put up a half-hearted protest the last time she’d paid him a visit) and the knowledge that her fellow fae were hardier than the fragile victims of her past, but none of that had abolished the tendrils of fear that tied her insides into knots every time her hunger grew and the moment she began to feed.
Bo’s daydreams were beginning to fill with fantasies of having control, of being able to say no, of being able to stop and feed when she decided she wanted to.
She tapped the card on the bartop.
“Hey, Trick,” she called to the barkeep at the opposite end of the bar. Trick looked up with a smile and ambled over.
“What’s up?”
“Have you ever heard of a,” Bo flipped the card over so that Trick could read the print, “Dr. Lauren Lewis?”
Trick peered at the card and reached for it. Pinching it between thumb and forefinger, he studied it and then smiled to himself. Bo wasn’t sure what the smile meant. The card itself was a letdown of bland proportions. In plain type was centered “Lauren Lewis M.D.” under which was embossed the design that was Dr. Lewis’ tattoo, and under that a phone number. No address, no additional contact information, no titles, no nothing.
It was rather boring to stare at.
“Lauren is the Morrigan’s human doctor,” Trick answered plainly, handing the card back to Bo.
“Whoa!” exclaimed Kenzi from Bo’s side. The human sprawled out on the countertop in an explosion of shock. “Hold up. Dr. Freeze is a human?”
Bo’s own astonishment kept her from berating Kenzi. She recalled her brief desire to kiss the doctor out of gratitude and hope and suppressed a shudder.
Trick shrugged. “She’s a good doctor, from what I hear. She’s been with the Morrigan for--it must be going on five years now.”
“Does she really treat Light and Dark Fae?” Bo asked.
Trick nodded. “That’s what they say. It wasn’t always the case, but the Morrigan seems to allow it. Whether or not Light Fae are willing to risk going to her is another story.”
“She’s a total narc, right?” Kenzi cut in.
“She’s very close to the Morrigan,” Trick said carefully.
“See, Bo! Listen to the Trickster! She’s bad news!” Kenzi yelled at her superpowered friend.
“She said . . . she said that maybe she could help me learn control,” Bo confessed. But how could a human teach a succubus to control her powers?
Trick frowned, but his expression was also a bit sad. “Perhaps. I don’t know enough about Lauren to comment on her abilities and what she can and cannot do for you. She’s curious, that’s for sure, and has consulted me regarding fae lore in the past. She comes to the Dal every now and again and we’ve had discussions about fae history and politics. I find her to be knowledgeable. Quite so, actually, considering she’s human. But . . . there’s very little that comes without price and with the Morrigan in the picture . . . . You’d have to be very careful.”
“Well, she made it clear that if I wanted her help, I’d have to be okay with the Morrigan knowing my business. But she’s not asking me to choose a side . . . .”
Trick’s frown dipped into disapproval. “Unaligned is unprotected, Bo.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Bo waved him off. “I know.” She bounced the edge of the business card against the countertop and then slipped it back into her pocket. Over the course of the night, she thought she could feel it burning into her side, a slender invitation to promises unimaginable.
*
“Hey,” Bo chirped at the hunched figure of Dr. Lewis, who was peering into a microscope. The doctor gave a start and a small cry, whipping around with a hand over her heart.
“Whoa, hey, sorry,” Bo said, hands held out in front of her placatingly, but she felt herself grinning. The doctor took a few calming breaths and then eyed Bo with a mix of confusion and irritation.
“Bo. Hello. Do we have an appointment?”
“No,” Bo said slowly.
“Then how did you get into the clinic?” Dr. Lewis asked, not looking any less confused or annoyed.
Bo reached into her pocket, scissored the business card between her index and middle fingers, withdrew it, and waved it in the air. “I flashed this at security and they let me in.”
Dr. Lewis nodded slowly. “I see. Security probably should have phoned Lindsay before letting you in.”
“Oh,” Bo said quietly, feeling a bit rejected by the doctor’s cold welcome. “Well, I was hoping I could ask you a few questions. About--about your offer.”
“Make an appointment,” Dr. Lewis said curtly.
“Seriously?” Bo said, jaw hanging open. “But I’m already here and--”
“Make an appointment,” Dr. Lewis repeated firmly. Then she blunted the edge of her tone with a soft “Please.”
A spike of anger made Bo petulant. “Hey, Doc, you were the one who offered to help me and I just want to see what you meant by that, exactly.”
“And I told you to make an appointment,” the doctor countered, giving no ground. If Bo intimidated her at all, she wasn’t showing it. “My offer still stands, but I’m very busy. Now, please, make an appointment with Lindsay and I’ll see you then.”
Bo opened her mouth to retort but she was almost shaking with fury--and hunger. Her mouth shut with a clash of teeth that made her jaw ache. With one last glare, Bo whirled on her heel and stormed out. “Thanks for nothing!”
*
In her anger, Bo had crushed the business card in a balled fist and, disgusted, thrown it into the first trashcan she’d passed.
A few days later, she found herself thinking about that crinkled piece of paper sitting in a dumpster or a landfill.
My offer still stands, Dr. Lewis had said.
“Dammit,” Bo muttered to herself as she lay in bed staring up at the canopy, hungry and wanting. (Wanting Dyson, the sashaying waitresses at the Dal, the soulful street artist strumming his guitar on the corner of [some Toronto streets!], the yummy no-nonsense meter maid that had almost given her a ticket until Bo had “convinced” her otherwise, the use of her powers only making the yawning emptiness in her even greedier, for everyone, for anything, God, she was so hungry.)
“Dammit.”
As it turned out, Bo had memorized the phone number on the card.
*
“So,” Bo said meekly from where she sat on the exam table, gripping the edge with her hands and resisting the urge to swing her legs like a nervous repetent schoolgirl before the headmistress, “I have an appointment this time.”
“I see that. Thank you.” Dr. Lewis sounded amused. That was good, Bo decided. Especially since, like the first time they’d met, she wasn’t reading many helpful hints in the doctor’s energy.
“Your secretary asked me to sign a bunch of scary waivers that required my initials beside clauses that stated things like that my clan wouldn’t come after you seeking revenge in the event of my death and that I understood that anything regarding my treatment or medical history or anything I say are liable to be relayed to the Morrigan. I told her I just wanted a consultation with you and sort of refused to sign any of them. Is that okay?”
Dr. Lewis actually smiled. Better. It was a nice smile, even if it didn’t quite reach her large, searching eyes. “Okay.”
“So,” Bo said slowly with flagging confidence in the face of the monosyllabic answers, “can I ask you a few questions?”
Dr. Lewis nodded and set aside the clipboard she’d brought into the exam room with her. She leaned against the sink counter and crossed her arms. The movement drew Bo’s eyes to the tattoo and she had to consciously raise them back to the doctor’s face. With the scar. “Go ahead.”
Bo cleared her throat and tried to maintain eye contact. “How would you . . . go about helping me?”
“That’s a good question.”
“Does that mean you have no clue?”
Dr. Lewis let out a small laugh, head bowing and lips stretching. The laughter in response to Bo’s doubt was unexpectedly reassuring, particularly when the doctor said, first to the floor and then to Bo, “I have some ideas, starting with a serum I hope can help curb your appetite.”
“You have something like that?”
“Maybe. It was originally synthesized for an incubus, but I think with a few tweaks it could work for you as well.”
Bo had to haul her jaw closed. “Oh, wow. Where do I sign up? Can you give it to me right now?”
“It’s not a long-term solution,” cautioned the doctor.
Bo, who had had no solutions except dealing death upon her lovers across the past ten years and with only her gnawing hunger as a constant companion, was ready to exclaim Screw long-term solutions! but had enough presence of mind to stuff down her first impulse. “Okay. I take it you have a long-term plan?”
“It involves you learning control,” Dr. Lewis said with a little smile.
“How do you plan to teach me that? Put a shock collar on me and jolt me every time I’m about to suck someone dry?”
The doctor let out another small laugh. “Would you like that?”
Bo’s mouth dropped open--in shock, in indignation, in, well, she had to admit, arousal--as the twinkling eyes and prodding, teasing tone left no doubt that the doctor had intended it to sound as suggestive as it had.
“No,” Bo said at last, thinking too late that it would have been better if she had ignored the question altogether, unsure, now that she was thinking about it--and she was thinking about it--if she really did mean no, and could the doctor please stop looking at her all intense and probing? Bo took a deep breath. “You really shouldn’t tease a hungry succubus.”
“Teasing a hungry succubus might be the way to help her,” Dr. Lewis said thoughtfully. When Bo gaped at her--which Bo was annoyed to realize she was doing a lot--the doctor hastily added, “In a controlled environment, of course. We would need to assess your abilities, measure the degree of control you have, and introduce stimulants in a gradual manner. That would ideally let us pinpoint the stimuli that trigger your hunger and let you come to identify and be aware of them yourself. Then it would be a matter of testing and practice and getting you into a regular feeding regimen.”
As she spoke, the doctor began to gesture in the air with her hands. Bo found their dance hypnotic. A bit dazed, Bo asked, “You want to stick me in a room with someone naked and see what happens?”
“Maybe. Eventually.” Then there it was, a lightning flash of something in the good doctor’s energy, and Bo had to stop herself from licking her lips. After a moment, she wasn’t sure she’d seen it at all or if it’d been a product of her ravenous imagination.
“I am really hungry,” Bo said quietly.
Dr. Lewis studied her face closely and then nodded. “Let me get that serum. We’ll see if it helps at all, or if it will need adjustments. Then you should pay Lindsay another visit, sign those waivers, and set another appointment. Okay?”
“Okay,” said Bo in a small voice.
Dr. Lewis lingered where she stood leaning against the counter for an extra breath and then smiled at her. Bo thought it might have even reached her eyes. Bo smiled back.
*
Bo was staring at the scar. In her defense, there wasn’t much else to look at with the doctor so close and intent on examining every part of the succubus.
“Did we ever properly introduce ourselves?” Bo asked in the keen awareness that the doctor was getting intimately acquainted with her body. The first step toward getting Bo control was apparently a comprehensive physical, but Bo wasn’t sure how being practically naked and in the proximity of a beautiful, albeit distant and deliberately professional, woman was the wisest first step on this journey. Not that Bo felt self-conscious, but it did feel a bit unfair with the doctor fully clothed and her in a state of undress.
“I’m not sure the unaligned succubus needs a self-introduction.”
“Or the Morrigan’s human doctor?” Bo quipped.
Dr. Lewis’ eyebrows rose and fell in an approximation of a shrug. Bo smirked.
“I’m Bo Dennis,” Bo said, catching the darting hazel eyes.
The blonde smiled indulgently. “Lauren Lewis. Nice to meet you, Bo.”
“Lauren.” Bo drew out the two syllables as if weighing them. “Can I call you Lauren?”
“That wouldn’t be very professional,” the doctor demurred, but Bo noted she hadn’t said no. It was as good as granting permission, Bo decided. “Lauren” it was and it made the woman seem softer in Bo’s mind. The trick would be getting the reality to match up.
Why Bo wanted the reality to match the image she was building in her mind, she couldn’t have said. Maybe it was the way Kenzi sniped relentlessly about the “frigid” doctor whenever Bo mentioned having an appointment that made her want to prove her cynical bestie wrong. (Even if Bo initially had shared the silver tongue’s opinion--and had yet to see much in the doctor’s behavior or aura that contradicted that assessment.) Maybe it was because everyone kept urging her to exercise caution and Bo wasn’t the best at following orders. Maybe it was way the Dark Fae doctor made Bo work for her time and attention and didn’t tolerate Bo showing up whenever she wanted, setting down challenges that sent Bo running, only to come crawling back.
Maybe Bo just wanted to crack that calm exterior and see what lurked beneath it.
“I’m not really a stickler for rules,” Bo said flippantly.
“So I gathered,” Dr. Lewis--Lauren--remarked as she jotted down a few notes.
“But I take it, you are?” Bo asked.
“I can’t imagine what might give you that idea,” Lauren deadpanned. Bo smiled. She was starting to get the doctor’s sense of humor.
“Do you ever let loose, doctor?” Bo asked, letting a flirtatious note carry her voice. “Break a few rules?”
The pen stilled in its scritching. After a moment, Lauren raised her eyes and looked at Bo over the top of the clipboard. “I’m a human doctor in the service of the Dark Fae who openly treats Dark and Light fae alike. You don’t think I’ve broken a few rules?”
Lauren’s eyes and tone were hard. Bo had to swallow to wet her suddenly dry throat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean--”
Lauren dropped her eyes back to the clipboard while something like self-admonishment twisted her lips into an awkward smile. In a much lighter register, she cut Bo off. “That is, I may be known to go out every now and again and drink more than is considered wise for a mere human to consume. That’s me. Human doctor, occasional lush.”
The complete change in tone gave Bo whiplash. She fumbled for a response. “Well, I’d like to--get a glimpse of--Lauren the lush.”
That came out less flattering than Bo had intended. But Lauren merely focused on Bo’s face through her eyelashes and with dire gravity said, “You have a long way to go before we reach that step in your training regimen, succubus.” For a breathless moment their gazes held. Then Lauren shattered the fragile thread by smacking the end of her pen against the clipboard. Keeping her smile and tone light, she added, “Something to look forward to, perhaps?”
Bo had no idea if Lauren was serious or not. She wasn’t sure which she wanted Lauren to be.
*
“You mentioned before that sometimes Lauren consults you,” Bo said to Trick over a glass of beer. “That she comes to the Dal. Does she come often?”
Trick’s eyebrows shot up at Lauren’s name. Bo refused to look abashed.
“Not often,” Trick said carefully. “She’s welcome here, of course.”
“Well, yeah,” Bo said, running her thumb down the curve of the glass. “Does she . . . drink a lot?”
Trick’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I recall maybe one or two times when she may have had a little much. I don’t know, Bo. I’m not exactly her minder.”
That made Bo frown. “Does she have a favorite drink?”
Trick spread his empty hands. “Is there a reason for the twenty questions?”
“No, I just--” Had been thinking about one uptight human doctor letting loose and breaking rules. “--was curious.”
*
“I like your . . . tattoo,” Bo said lamely, skimming her fingertips over the ink-stained flesh, feeling the contrast between Lauren’s soft skin and the deep, puckered scars. Lauren inhaled with the minutest sharpness. Contrary to Bo’s expectations, no flutters of lust colored Lauren’s aura at the touch. Lauren smiled tightly before relaxing a bit.
“I’ll send your compliments to the Morrigan,” Lauren said as she withdrew her fingers from the gentle exploration of Bo’s lymph nodes.
“What?” Bo murmured.
Lauren reached up and caressed the tattoo. Bo’s eyes were riveted to the movement, the way Lauren’s fingers ghosted across her own skin. “This is the Morrigan’s sigil. It marks me as her--ward.”
“You mean she’s your guardian?” Bo asked with uncertainty. She had a hard time picturing the slinky, sleazy Morrigan being anyone’s caretaker.
Lauren frowned, just a bit. “Didn’t you claim Kenzi as your human?”
“Yeah, but that’s just because Trick said she couldn’t be in the Dal otherwise.”
Lauren took a sharp breath and then released it. She fiddled with her stethoscope as she said, “Fae regard claimed humans as property of the claimants. The Morrigan is my guardian in a sense, yes, but it’s more accurate to say that she owns me.”
“What?” Bo guffawed. “That’s stupid. Nobody can own anyone else.”
Lauren’s eyes darkened with that dangerous, hard edge that could make the small hairs on the back of Bo’s neck rise. They softened just as quickly as Lauren sighed and met Bo’s eyes. “Yes, they can. Yes, the Morrigan owns me. Yes, you own Kenzi, in the eyes of fae law.”
“I don’t own Kenzi!” Bo burst out angrily.
Lauren’s lips quirked into a smile, tranquil and amused in the face of Bo’s affront. “I have to admit I was a bit surprised to learn that not only was Kenzi human, but that you’d claimed her.”
“She’s my friend,” Bo said plaintively.
“I know,” Lauren said quietly. “Anyone can see it.”
Bo hesitated but then ventured, “The Morrigan isn’t your friend.”
“No.” The word was almost swallowed in soft laughter. But not ha-ha funny laughter, but a sound that was like ground glass. “Not quite.”
Bo searched Lauren’s face. The doctor was always hard to read and Bo didn’t know what she was looking for. Something, the succubus thought, to match the sadness she felt inside herself looking at the doctor right now. But if Lauren felt sad, it was buried beyond the scope of Bo’s gaze.
“How can you . . .” Bo let her words trail off, unsure how she had intended to finish the sentence. How can you stand it? How can you live like that?
“How can I . . . ?” Lauren prompted. Her eyes darted between Bo’s eyes, one and then the other and back again, and then crinkled at the corners as she smiled. “How can I waste so much time when we’re here to teach you some control? Let’s start, shall we?”