Chapter 8

Alan’s illness made him crave blood and become aggressive. Leaving Suzanne alone with him seemed reckless.

Richard stepped forward, his expression tense. “Dr. Smith, you don’t understand. My son’s condition is… complicated.”

Shane chimed in, clearly disapproving. “Exactly. If he lashes out, you won’t be able to defend yourself.”

No matter how skilled she was as a doctor, to them, she was still a fragile woman.

But Suzanne’s gaze stayed fixed on Alan. She shook her head and said calmly, “It’s fine.”

Shane wanted to argue more, but Suzanne raised a hand to stop him. “Trust me.”

Shane froze, his eyes narrowing. He knew her temperament better than anyone. Once she decided something, there was no changing her mind.

Still, he couldn’t shake his worry. “Fine, but be careful. I’ll be right outside. If anything happens, call me immediately.”

To Shane, nothing mattered more than her safety.

Suzanne saw the concern in his eyes and gave him a small nod, silently reassuring him.

Richard looked uneasy and turned to Alan, his voice firm yet pleading. “You have to control yourself. Don’t you dare hurt her!”

Their worry was palpable as both men reluctantly stepped out, glancing back several times before the door closed behind them.

The moment the door clicked shut, Suzanne’s gaze fell on Alan, who immediately growled, “You can leave too!”

His fists clenched, veins bulging on his forehead as he visibly struggled to maintain control. With fewer people around, the sweet scent of blood seemed stronger, teasing his senses and tempting him.

Especially Suzanne’s delicate neck. The primal urge to sink his teeth into her was overwhelming.

Yet Suzanne didn’t flinch. She moved to the couch and sat gracefully, her demeanor calm and unbothered. Her eyes rested on Alan, her tone steady. “I’m the only one who can treat your illness. Are you sure you want me to leave?”

Alan’s breathing grew heavier, anger simmering beneath the surface. But Suzanne continued, her voice unwavering.

“You crave blood. Your body can’t resist the hunger. It’s driving you mad—making you irritable, reckless, even violent. Your appetite is likely gone. You can’t eat normal food anymore, can you?”

Alan narrowed his eyes in surprise. Every word she said was spot on.

He had been relying on IV drips to function and was barely holding on. But his expression hardened, lips curling into a mocking smile. “You could’ve gotten all of that from my father. Why should I believe you?”

Suzanne leaned back, propping her elbow on the armrest and resting her chin in her hand. She raised a brow and said with confidence, “Then let me tell you something no one else knows.”

Alan scoffed. How capable could a woman be anyway? She couldn’t possibly know what others didn’t.

But Suzanne’s next words left him speechless.

“You’re not working down there, are you?”

Her gaze landed on Alan, and he knew exactly what she meant. His face turned to stone.

How could she know? That shameful, humiliating issue was something he had told no one. Not even the best doctors he had seen had discovered it. Only he was aware of it.

His fists clenched harder, his brows furrowing as he stared at her, at a loss for words.

Suzanne smiled and said softly, “These symptoms aren’t the last of it. Soon, you’ll feel numbness creeping through your body. Eventually, you’ll lose all sensation.”

Alan’s heart pounded, a chill spreading through him.

Just this morning, he had felt a strange numbness that lasted a few minutes before disappearing. He had dismissed it as poor posture, but now that she mentioned it, he realized it had been happening more often. And in hindsight, his posture had been no different than usual.

In the end, he would be nothing more than a broken man staring death in the face.

Suzanne clearly had some understanding of his condition to describe it in such detail.

Alan took a deep breath, though it did nothing to calm the agitation rising in his chest. After a long pause, he fixed his gaze on Suzanne and asked in a low voice, “Can you really cure me?”

Suzanne shook her head, answering honestly, “I’m not sure. I can only try.”

Alan didn’t know what to say. He laughed dryly. “So, you’re just here to mess with me?”

She had listed all his symptoms so accurately, only to admit she wasn’t certain? Was this some kind of joke? Or was she just here to humiliate him?

Suzanne raised an eyebrow. “Right now, you’re barely surviving on IV drips, and even they don’t fully suppress your symptoms. At the very least, I can help you get some relief. Whether I can cure you entirely will depend on how your body responds.”

As Alan slowly calmed down, she added, “I’ll treat you for a few days. The symptoms will disappear, but I won’t lie to you and promise a cure.”

Alan stared at her, expression unreadable. His gaze lingered on her, lips parting slightly as if to speak, but the words wouldn’t come.

Suzanne didn’t wait for his response. “I’ll use acupuncture. If you agree, I’ll start now.”

Alan’s eyes darkened. His mind was a mess, but at this point, he had nothing to lose.

After a long silence, he finally muttered, “Do whatever you want.”

Suzanne wasted no time. She stepped forward, retrieved a cloth bag from her case, and unfolded it. Neatly arranged silver needles gleamed coldly in the sunlight.

She selected a three-inch needle.

Suzanne smiled and teased, “Afraid of needles?”

Alan instinctively flinched, his hand tightening on the blanket.

His expression darkened. Tearing his hand away, he snapped, “No. Just get on with it.”

A hint of amusement flickered in her eyes.

Alan didn’t resist, quickly shifting his posture to expose his abdominal points. His muscles were tense, likely from the effort of suppressing his inner turmoil.

Suzanne’s fingers brushed lightly against his skin. “Relax. Stop tensing so much. Close your eyes and take deep breaths.”

Alan’s entire body stiffened further.

Her touch was warm, sending an unfamiliar sensation through him. He had never been touched like this by a woman, and the unfamiliarity unsettled him.

Terrified she’d notice his reaction, he quickly masked it with indifference.

The first needle pierced his skin. A low, stifled groan escaped him as sharp, prickling pain spread from the entry point, radiating through his body and into his very bones. His fists clenched as he forced himself to endure it.

Suzanne raised an eyebrow, momentarily surprised. She hadn’t expected him to endure acupuncture pain so silently. Even the toughest men usually flinched.

He was quite determined.

Without hesitation, she continued placing needles, her movements precise and practiced. The room filled with the steady rhythm of Alan’s suppressed grunts.

An hour later, Suzanne finally stopped. Stretching her sore neck, she stood and sat in a modern seat, observing him.

Alan’s forehead was drenched in sweat.

Suzanne asked softly, “How do you feel now?”