Passion's Bright Fury

by Radclyffe

  Disconcerted, she accepted Lori moving lower over her body. The silken heat of Lori’s mouth made her gasp, and she closed her eyes and tried to empty her mind, willing her body to find release. It wasn’t something she usually had to work at. She hovered for agonizing minutes on the verge of climaxing, muscles taut and nerves singing—shivering on the brink, straining for the peak. Breath tore from her lungs on strangled sobs and her heart thundered in her ears. She was burning, bleeding, dying—and still the moment eluded her.

  Gasping, she meant to tell Lori to stop; she meant to say she couldn’t. She didn’t mean to allow the images of another place, another face, to surface. She didn’t mean those other eyes to hold her, or that stark, intense image to claim her.

  But it happened, and she couldn’t stop it. She couldn’t stop the swift surge of blood that pulsed through her already painfully distended flesh or the wild plummet into orgasm.

  “Oh God, oh God, oh God,” she whispered, Saxon Sinclair’s face shimmering through her mind. What am I going to do?

  Chapter Sixteen

  July 25, 7:38 a.m.

  “I thought you’d overslept,” Melissa teased as Jude sat down beside her in the cafeteria. Jude was never late. When her friend failed to reply, Melissa looked up from her breakfast and regarded her seriously. “You look beat. Rough night?”

  “Not exactly.” Jude tried to decide whether she even wanted the yogurt she had picked up more out of a sense of responsibility than hunger.

  After Lori had fallen quickly asleep beside her the night before, she’d barely slept, lying awake to stare at the ceiling and wonder what was happening to her. Eventually, she’d slipped into a fitful slumber just before dawn, only to be awakened in what felt like minutes by the alarm. She’d rolled over and closed her eyes, trying to decide if she should awaken Lori then and talk to her about what she was feeling.

  But what was I feeling? What was I going to say? I’ve been unfaithful to you with a fantasy vision?

  She wasn’t even certain that Lori would consider it unfaithful if she’d actually started seeing another woman, let alone been guilty of nothing more than some severely erotic fantasies about one. They’d never placed any limits on each other regarding monogamy; for her it had just worked out that way. Seeing Lori was all she had time for, and apparently the same was true for Lori as well. They were monogamous by default.

  Still undecided but out of time, she’d pulled herself from bed, more exhausted than if she had been up all night working. She had merely leaned over and dropped a light kiss on Lori’s cheek as she left, whispering goodbye and remaining silent about her own troubling thoughts. They both had to work, and she could barely make sense of her own emotions, let alone articulate them to a woman with whom she’d been intimate for months, but who in many ways she hardly knew. Lori deserved more than a rushed explanation at some ungodly hour of the morning that was going to make very little sense to either of them.

  “Are you okay?” Melissa persisted, her expression more serious now.

  “Yes...no...I don’t know.” Jude surprised herself at the admission. She smiled ruefully across the table, appreciative of the concern in Melissa’s eyes. “It’s nothing serious. Relationship stuff.”

  “What’s happening? Does Lori want to move in with you?” Melissa imagined that the attorney had finally pushed for the relationship to become more serious. Jude hadn’t seemed likely to do so.

  “No, thank God.” Jude didn’t bother to mask her relief. “In fact, she’s never pressured me about that kind of thing. She seems to be pretty happy just the way things are—casual and sort of unstructured.”

  “So?” It was clear to Melissa that something was bothering Jude, and she couldn’t understand why Jude was being so vague. She was one of the most direct people Melissa knew. “Do you want to get more serious, then?”

  “No.” Jude shook her head emphatically. “Not at all. Everything is fine just the way it is.”

  “Uh-huh. That’s obvious.”

  “I’m just tired,” Jude reiterated, forcing an effort at breakfast. Lori hasn’t asked for anything more, and I don’t want anything more. So, what’s the problem?

  But she knew what the problem was. She couldn’t continue to make love to one woman while thinking of another, and she didn’t know how to stop thinking about Saxon Sinclair.

  July 25, 7:58 a.m.

  Pam pulled the convertible to the curb in front of St. Michael’s and turned in the seat to study her passenger. “I’d like to see you, Saxon. You know that. Dinner, the theater, a few hours in bed...anything you like. Will you call me when you’re ready? If you’re ready?”

  Sax sighed and met Pam’s gaze. She wasn’t at all sure why she was resisting. Pam Arnold was alluring and talented and sexy as hell. Losing herself in Pam’s arms was likely to give her at least two things she needed—a few hours of rest and a reason not to dream about Jude Castle. Still, she hesitated.

  “I’m not exactly relationship material, Pam. And I meant what I said last night about avoiding involvement with anyone at work.”

  “I’m not looking for a relationship.” Pam’s eyes traveled the length of Sax’s body. “I’m looking for a little diversion and a little pleasure, and I have a feeling that you’re exactly what I require.” As Sax laughed good-naturedly and stepped from the car, Pam added, “Call me.”

  Standing on the sidewalk watching Pam pull away, Sax wondered if Jude had arrived at the hospital yet and mentally reviewed the morning’s schedule. She might not see the filmmaker all day if the admissions were slow and they had no reason to film. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. Maybe then the insistent hum of arousal that only got worse whenever Jude was near would dissipate. Maybe.

  Personal Project Log — Castle

  August 3, 11:35 p.m.

  It’s only been a month, but already I can see the changes in Deb. She’s always been confident, and of course she should be, because she’s already finished an entire general surgery residency before coming to St. Michael’s. Still, a month ago, she was a brand-new trauma fellow, and now she seems like a seasoned veteran. [Note: Episode title: “Squad Commander.”]

  Today was one of those days when there was a steady stream of injured...most of them blunt traumas...motor vehicle accidents usually. We’d just get one settled and another would arrive.

  I noticed that when new patients rolled into the trauma admitting area, Sax didn’t get involved in the assessment as quickly. Sometimes not at all. She still watched everything and supervised everyone in the same totally efficient, totally confident, totally commanding manner...but she let Deb lead the team and make all the calls. Still, I could feel Sax there in the background, watching. There’s something comforting about knowing that she’s there and that if anything goes wrong, you’re not alone.

  Jude turned off her recorder and leaned out over the top of the stone wall edging the rooftop, letting the night wind cool her skin and thinking about what she had just said. If anything goes wrong, you’re not alone. She wondered why that mattered to her. As a child, she had struggled for independence, especially during the years when much of her life had revolved around competition and she had chafed at the restrictions that had been placed upon her. She had finally found something of her own in filmmaking and had pursued it, both because it satisfied her intellectually and because it was her banner of freedom.

  She enjoyed her friends and her more intimate relationships, but she had always hesitated to establish any serious ties for fear that she would no longer be able to control her own life. Being alone had never bothered her and she usually felt content and fulfilled. With an impatient shrug, annoyed at her introspection, she chided herself.

  I really should be pleased. It was a busy but not overwhelmingly hectic day. We got high-quality footage, and it was a good day’s work. Things are going even better than I expected. I don’t need to complicate the situation now.

  “I can leave if you’d rather be alone,” a quiet v
oice said from behind her.

  Jude turned to search the darkness, and a rush of heat rose unbidden when she recognized the familiar figure. “I’m in your space up here. I’ll leave.”

  “No.” Sax stopped by Jude’s side. “Stay. Please.”

  For a few moments, they said nothing, merely standing side by side in companionable silence, watching the city teem with life far below.

  “Why did you decide to do this...surgery, I mean?” Jude asked, not expecting Sax to answer. She wasn’t even sure why she had asked, except that she wanted to know.

  Perhaps it was because she sensed only honest interest that Sax answered. “Surgery is one of the few areas in medicine where you know you’ve made a difference almost immediately. You don’t have to wait for a drug to work or for a test to be completed. You make a difference with your hands and your mind. And if it doesn’t work, it’s on you. You know where you stand in surgery. There are no gray zones.”

  “That sounds...comforting.”

  “Yes.” Sax detected a note of surprise in her own voice. She hadn’t really expected Jude to understand.

  “And why trauma surgery?” Jude probed softly. She heard Sax sigh and saw her shrug from the corner of her eye. This is where she turns around and leaves. She’s made it pretty clear that she isn’t going to talk to you about herself. Why can’t you just let it be? But she couldn’t.

  She’d never hungered to know anyone the way she wanted to know Saxon Sinclair. She couldn’t explain it, not even to herself. It was more than respect, more than attraction, and more than curiosity. When she looked at her, she saw so many things—dedication, responsibility, anger, stubbornness, passion. Most of all, passion—for what she did and for what she believed. She was too intriguing to walk away from.

  When Sax made no comment, she repeated, “Why trauma?”

  “Ego is a big part of it,” Sax admitted. “It’s a personal challenge when a life is on the line and you’re the only one there who can change the tide.”

  “And when you fail?”

  “You try to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

  “Everyone tells me that trauma burns you out quickly,” Jude commented. “After only a month, I can understand why. It’s so intense, and there’s so little time to make a decision. So much depends on what you do. You personally. Doesn’t that take its toll...wear you down?”

  “It does for some people.” Sax met Jude’s gaze. “But it’s that pressure—that thrill—that makes it all worth it, too.”

  Even in near darkness, Jude could see Sax’s eyes sparkle. There was a pent-up energy and excitement about her that was nearly palpable. “I bet if you weren’t a surgeon you’d be a firefighter or an astronaut or some other high-stress, adrenaline-producing job.”

  “Maybe,” Sax agreed, chuckling. “There’s nothing quite like winning.”

  For a moment, as she watched Sax laugh with her head tilted back and moonlight angling off her profile, Jude forgot what they were discussing. All she could think was how beautiful the surgeon was. It was more than just physical; there was a magnetism and vitality about her that made Jude want to grab on to her and soar wherever that crazy energy would take her. It was a heady, addictive sensation and she was instantly ready to stop thinking altogether and just feel.

  “How about you?” Sax asked unexpectedly. “What is it about filmmaking that satisfies you?”

  “A million things,” Jude answered, her heart still pounding. “In a lot of ways, it’s like what you do. It’s technically challenging, it’s exciting, and there are rewards beyond my own personal satisfaction. Film is a communication medium, and communication is one of the greatest tools for shaping society.” She laughed a little self-consciously, pushing her hair back with one hand in a gesture that Sax was coming to recognize. “Not that I think I’m changing the world, but if what I do causes a few people to think about something differently—to think at all—then I’ve succeeded.”

  “I understand,” Sax said. It was surprising how easy it was to talk to Jude. The moments they’d spent together were some of the most relaxing she could remember. She had spent her life surrounded by intense people, but Jude’s quiet intensity was both comforting and compelling. From the very first moment Sax had met her, she had sensed Jude’s underlying honesty and commitment. That, perhaps more than anything else, was what she valued about her.

  Maybe it was because they were alone in one of the few places where she had ever been able to relax, but she felt oddly peaceful. She didn’t really stop to think about what she said next.

  “I owe you an apology for my rudeness during the interview. I know you were just doing your job.”

  “No, you don’t need to apologize. When I’m going for a story, I tend to be relentless, because I’ve learned that oftentimes the only way to get the details that you want is to push. You told me up front what the rules were, and I ignored them.”

  “I’m sorry, nevertheless,” Sax repeated.

  “Accepted, then,” Jude replied softly.

  They were standing very close together, completely alone on the rooftop of the hospital. The night lay heavy and warm around them, cocooning them and making it seem as if they were even more isolated than they actually were. Halogen lights at the far corners of the helipad lit the landing area in a harsh artificial glare, but they stood outside the illumination in shadows.

  Neither of them wanted to end the moment; neither of them moved into the light.

  Chapter Seventeen

  August 4, 12:50 a.m.

  As it turned out, neither of them had a chance to suggest they go back inside. Sax’s beeper went off, making the decision for them.

  Trauma alert STAT...trauma admitting. Trauma alert STAT...trauma admitting. Trauma alert STAT...trauma admitting...

  Sax shrugged an apology and sprinted away, Jude close on her heels. Not bothering with the elevators, they clattered down the concrete steps of the stairwell to the first floor. By the time they reached trauma admitting, the first of several gunshot victims were being wheeled in from the line of emergency vehicles pulled up behind the trauma admitting bay. Deb was already there, examining the first patients and starting her evaluation; Aaron Townsend was triaging and informing other nurses and residents as to which individuals needed immediate attention; Melissa was on scene with her camera rolling.

  “What have we got?” Sax asked as she came through the double doors on the run.

  “Gang fight,” Deb replied without looking up from the young male she was intubating. “Multiple penetrating injuries—gunshot and stab wounds.”

  “How many are we getting?” Sax moved to the next patient in line, pulling on gloves as she went.

  “I don’t know,” Deb said distractedly. “The EMTs said there were at least a dozen injured. This guy’s got a hole in his belly and needs to go to the OR right now.”

  “Aaron,” Sax called as she lifted the blood-soaked gauze bandage on the second youth’s chest, “call in Tyler and the rest of the backup team. We’re going to be busy down here for a while.” Studying the two-inch laceration between the second and third ribs, she asked the patient, “What’s your name?”

  “Fuck you,” the teenager grunted, twisting to look at the boy on the bed beside him. “You better hope you die, motherfucker, because if you don’t, I’m gonna kill you!”

  “You’ve got a punctured lung. You need surgery,” Sax informed him impassively.

  “I want to go...to...another hospital. I don’t...wanna be anywhere near these...pricks.” As he spoke, bright red blood frothed from between his lips, and Sax had to force him back to a lying position.

  Great. Rival gang members still looking for someone to fight. Perfect. “Save it for some other day. You’ve got a stab wound in your chest. At the moment, you’re not going to be fighting with anyone.”

  “Just keep...them...away from me,” he wheezed weakly just before his eyes rolled upward and he lost consciousness.

  For the next few m
inutes, Sax was busy inserting a chest tube and starting multiple large intravenous lines so that the nurses could hang blood and intravenous fluids. Deb was silently and efficiently doing the same thing as three more critically injured boys were delivered in rapid succession. Several nurses and two more surgical residents were recruited from the intensive care unit to assist in the initial stabilizations.

  Jude and Melissa stayed out of the way of arriving stretchers and bustling medical personnel while managing to find a good vantage point from which to film the action. After more than two hundred hours of on-call experience, they had worked out a system that was nearly as seamless as the choreographed resuscitations occurring around them.

  By now, Jude knew from the footage they’d been getting that she and Mel were working on the same wavelength. That was what happened when a director and photographer were of one mind. She didn’t worry about Mel missing something important, which was a good thing, because she often found herself watching Sax—just to see her work. Trying to observe both Deb and Sax now, she was so caught up in the excitement that she didn’t register the sound of a scuffle just outside in the hallway. It was the sound of Aaron’s voice, raised in anger and tinged with fear, which finally made her look around.

  “Hey!” Aaron exclaimed. “You can’t come in—”

  A sharp crack like snapping wood and the startled sound of Aaron’s stunned cry caught her full attention. She spun toward the entrance of the trauma admitting area.

  Three young men shouldered their way inside, all of them blood spattered and wild-eyed. The teenager in the lead had a pistol in his hand, swinging it erratically back and forth as he stared at the people in the room. Aaron was lying on the floor just a few feet away, his eyes closed and a spreading patch of maroon on his scrub shirt.