by M. K. Moore
Frankie’s Bride
M.K. Moore
Flirty Filth Publishing
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Epilogue
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Other books by MK Moore
About the Author
Dedicated to those who think Halloween is indeed for sexy times…
Frankie’s Bride (A Salem Experiment Novella, Book 3)
By MK Moore
© MK Moore 2019 Flirty Filth Publishing.
All Rights Reserved
By the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for brief quotations used in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.
The use of actors, artists, movies, TV shows and song titles/lyrics throughout this book are done so for storytelling purposes and should in no way be seen as an advertisement. Trademark names are used editorially with no intention of infringement of the respective owner’s trademark.
This book is intended for adults only. Contains sexual content and language that may offend some. The suggested reading audience is 18 years or older. I consider this book as Erotic Adult Romance.
Cover created by KL Fast
Created with Vellum
Blurb
Frankie Stein
I ruin lives and I save them.
Superhuman strength means I should keep to myself. I pretend that I'm normal however I am anything but. Being a doctor, I am driven to help people. Then she's on my table and nothing else matters.
Polly Dean
I lost to pure evil. I was dead, then he saved me. Now, I'm his. My giant will go to the ends of the Earth and beyond for me. What did I do to deserve this kind of amazing karma? Either way, I'll take it forever.
This is a safe, sexy, over the top, instalove with a Halloween vibe. Are you ready for the Salem Experiment?
#Safe #Sexy #Spooky #Hulky #FrankieandPolly #DeathIsntTheEnd #InstaEverything
Prologue
Dr. Francis Stein
I wake with a jolt from the nightmare. As always, I'm drenched in sweat and it feels like a car is sitting on my chest. This is the same nightmare I've had every night for the last ten years. It's been that long since it happened, but it seems like it was just yesterday. I refer to it as the incident. The experiment that went awry. October 31st, 2009 was just like any other night until it wasn't. I didn't just ruin my life. I ruined my two best friends' lives as well. I also ruined the lives of a cat who now lives as a dog and a mouse who is now a cat. I was in my second year of med school when it happened. Max, Aaron, and I shared an old Victorian house on Salem Street. We’ve lived in Salem our whole lives. Best friends since kindergarten. I commuted the thirty minutes to Boston every day for class, while they did for work. After college, they had entered their preferred professions, while I went to Harvard Medical School. My focus, at the time, was gene splicing. I was trying to discover a cure for cancer as my doctoral project, but I was playing with fire. Everything was going great, then this happened. It derailed us all for a bit, but things are finally looking up.
I was working with the DNA of plants, animals, and humans trying to come up with a disease-fighting combination. Unbeknownst to me, when you mix that shit up extraordinary things happen. I thought I had it all under control, but fuck was I wrong. It was a pretty basic experiment, but a night of drinking and an impromptu game of indoor football changed all that.
We had been drinking since early evening, by ten we were all drunk. Max suggested the game and we didn’t stop him. Aaron caught the ball that I threw, but his hip crashed into my lab table. The beaker that was on a low boil spilled, somehow causing a fire. The rest of the beakers exploded showering us with glass and the now sludge-like contents. I watched in amazement as my skin absorbed the liquid instead of it pooling or burning me. We sobered up quickly after that. Panic set in and it was all I could do to save my notes. The fire raged out of control for hours while the fire department tried to put it out.
Eventually, it fizzled out on its own. The house was destroyed. The EMTs checked us out and other than some smoke inhalation, we were seemingly fine.
Until two days later.
Aaron had issues first. He was changing into a wolf every few minutes until he got it under control. Max was turning into a bear, he learned to control it after the first shift. Me, on the other hand, got strong. Like a certain Marvel green giant without the green. It started out when I lifted a car. I just felt as though I could, so I did. I flexed my muscles and they expanded. It was like an out of body experience. I have had to teach myself that I shouldn’t be able to lift certain things by myself. That was the hardest part. Prior to the experiment, I was 5'10 and weighed only one hundred sixty-five pounds. Now, I'm 6'7 and three hundred pounds of pure muscle. I'm a fucking giant and I don't hate it. Before, I was a pimple-faced nerd. No woman wanted to date me, not that I tried. Now that I'm a big fucking beast they are afraid of me. I don't blame them though. I scare myself sometimes.
Since the incident, I’ve finished med school and am now the head of the emergency department at Salem General Hospital. I almost quit altogether, but Max and Aaron convinced me that this wasn’t my fault. I live outside of town, on a hill that I swear is haunted. Aaron lives in a cabin in the woods, and Max, well, I'm not entirely sure where he lives. He's a park ranger and that allows him the freedom to be a forest-dwelling bear whenever the need arises. So, alone I navigate through my notes, both pre and post-experiment. I'm desperately trying to figure out what happened to us that night, not to change it, but to understand exactly what happened ten years ago on a night just like this. I hear talk of other shifters, but I've not yet seen another. It's the three of us against the world. I should want to reverse the experiment, the curse, or whatever you want to call it, but the thing is, I don't want to anger it or try to change it in any way. I don't know enough about it to try to make things right again. As much as I hate it, I also love it. It's our new normal.
Tonight, for the first time, the dream changed and shifted focus. I dreamed of a girl. She was bleeding out on my table in the Emergency Room. She called out to me in a way that no one else ever has. In my dream, I worked frantically to save her, but it was no use. The curvy brunette beauty with the thick waist and thighs died in my arms. When I woke up, I felt despair. Anguish. Denial. Emotions you shouldn't feel for someone you don't know, but nonetheless, I do. I can't get her out of my head. She calls to me on a primal level. The need to find her is taking over my senses.
A few hours before my shift, Aaron calls me. He's frantic as he speaks to me. It takes me thirty minutes to get out to his place, and when I finally get there, I find him with a woman. The tiny redhead has a visible head injury. He growls at me when I try to touch her forehead.
Oh, it's like that is it?
After speaking with him privately and subsequently punching him, he graciously allows my examination to continue. No sign of concussion or cause for concern but to be on the safe side, I provide him with some basic monitoring instructions and head out to the hospital.
Lightning flashes, thunder rolls, and rain pours down as I make my way down Old Mason road. The storm of the century is brewing. Little did I know that my whole life is about to change again.
Chapter 1
Pollyanna Dean
Twice now. This is twice now that I've been stabbed in the line of duty. Okay, line of duty is a bit misleading. It makes it seem like I'm a cop instead of a babysitter, but it's still accurate. The first time, my charge, a toddler named Suzy, accidentally stabbed me in the thigh with a fork. That one just needed a Band-Aid. This one. This one worries me. I've been babysitting two little girls, Etta who is seven and Demina who is ten for two weekends now. I've only lived in Salem for three weeks. One morning, I woke up at my parents’ house in Connecticut with the need to be where witchcraft flourished in secret and many innocents lost their lives. It was the strangest feeling. I'd never been interested in witches before, but I suddenly knew everything about it. My first Saturday here, I found an ad pinned up in the grocery store. It seemed like a good match at first, but as I got to know them, I realized just how wrong I was. Little Etta is a perfect child. Demina, on the other hand, is evil.
Pure evil.
That little bitch stabbed me in the belly with a chef's knife. She had been yelling at me about her costume not fitting properly. I wasn't even there for trick or treating. I had nothing to do with that. Her mother got called into work, so she called me around nine to sit with them until their father came home around eleven. Demina was already in her pajamas when I arrived. I asked how their candy haul was and she just snapped. She started speaking Latin, then ran into the kitchen, grabbed the knife, and gutted me like a fish.
I am looking down at my body right now. I'm lying on a gurney in the back of an ambulance. It's speeding down the road to what I hope is the hospital. I can see the knife still in my gut. Why don't they remove it? Why aren't they saving me? I am taking shallow breaths. It rattles. I know that sound. It's a death rattle. My white dress is stained red as is my hair. This is it. This is how I die.
For the first time, I realize that I must already be dead. I shouldn't be able to see my body from this angle, but I can. I'm only nineteen. I've never kissed a man. I've never fallen in love. I'll never get the chance to hold my babies. I begin to pray for my salvation. I'm still watching with rapt attention as we screech to a halt in the ambulance bay of the hospital. It's raining, but I can't feel it. It's cold enough that the breaths of those around me are visible. I'm not even visible. Things move quickly now. Everything in me tells me not to lose my body so I keep up with it as I am wheeled into Trauma One. Two seconds later, the hottest man I've ever seen comes into the room. He's huge like a tv wrestler. His crisp white lab coat tells me he's the doctor. His super sexy face tattoos and Viking hairstyle tell me I might be wrong.
He looks like he's seen a ghost. Maybe he's the only one who can see me. I realize he can't when he all but walks through me.
"What's her name?" he asks of no one in particular. His voice is a low rumble. It washes over my soul like a balm. I feel him inside me and that can't be right, but nonetheless I do. I feel him. The EMT with the clipboard has the answers for him.
"Pollyanna Dean. Nineteen. Stab wound to the left side of her abdomen. Weapon still intact. Massive hemorrhaging. Possible internal damage."
"Tina, have the OR send someone down. There's no time to move her. Have the blood bank on standby. Kylie, glove up and get some of this blood to the lab for urgent testing. I want her blood type immediately."
The nurses jump to do his bidding.
"Yes, doctor," they both say in unison. So, he is the doctor. Hmm. He doesn't look like any doctor I've ever seen before. He looks like he is my only hope. He also looks like he's in pain right now. Actual physical pain and I want to help him, but I can't. I can't even help myself.
The EMTs leave and the doctor looks down at me. My pale face is even whiter than the sheet under my head.
"Polly," he whispers, smoothing my blood-stained hair from my face. It's such a stark contrast from how he spoke to the others, I melt. "I'm going to save you or die trying. This I promise." Lightning flashes on his vow. Like a sign from above. Even in the fluorescent light, it illuminates his handsome yet imposing face. He leaves the room, coming back mere seconds later scrubbed and gloved up, ready to work.
Hours go by while he works on me. Hours. He never tires. He removed the knife and placed it in the evidence bag the police brought. He checks for internal damage, finding something. He makes another incision in the upper left portion of my abdomen. He reaches behind my ribs and removes a fist-shaped, purple organ. It squelches as it hits the pan. Is that my ruptured spleen just casually thrown on a tray? The other nurse crashes back into the room, her eyes wide.
"Doctor, her blood type is...well it's complicated."
"What the hell do you mean, complicated, Kylie?"
"It's not a known blood type. The lab says it's called X. The blood bank doesn't have it and the universal type isn't so universal after all." I'm sorry, what? I have alien blood?
"Son of a bitch. Kylie get a field transfusion kit. Ethan get this shirt sleeve off of me. Start a line in both of us."
"Doctor?" Ethan asks, confused.
"There's no time to explain why I know this will work. Get to it."
'Yes, sir." Less than two minutes later, I can feel his hot blood coursing through my veins. How is that possible? He declares his task complete. Somehow, he's strong enough to give me blood and keep working on me. I'm more than a little bit in awe of him.
He then begins the arduous task of stitching me up. My pulse drops rapidly. A machine blares out my death toles as the power goes out. Now, it's eerily quiet. No one panics, except me. The doctor abandons his stitching. In the dark, he begins CPR. Like a vortex, I can feel myself drawn back into my body. Lightning crashes again, this time lighting up the darkness. The dutiful doctor looks insane right now, but he's not giving up. For the first time, I'm not left alone. Not abandoned.
"Live. You have to live," he chants over and over until I can no longer see him. Then, I am not in the hospital. I look around and see that this has to be Heaven. I want to go back to him. I know he needs me just as much as I need him. I'm drawn back to the here and now.
Ethereal beings float around the massive, gorgeous city-like place. A man wearing golden robes, complete with a key belt, and a shock of white hair with a long white beard, sits behind an ornate desk near what has to be the entrance, if the giant pearl and gold gilded gate is any indication.
Saint Peter.
The Gatekeeper. His face is buried in a big book. A book I know to be the Gospel. Suddenly, he looks up at me.
"Pollyanna Dean? No, no, no. It's not your time. Back you get." He ushers me away and suddenly I'm back in my body. My eyes pop open to see the look of sheer determination and concentration on the doctor's handsome face. He's sweating, but he doesn't stop. He's handsome as hell. He is still pumping away on my chest. I glance at the clock and see that he's been trying to revive me for over an hour. He hasn't noticed that I'm breathing yet or that my eyes are open. I'm no longer bleeding, so someone must have finished stitching me up.
"Doctor Stein. She's gone. You have to call it. Frankie, you'll break her ribs," the nurse from before says. Doctor Frankie Stein. He has a name. His powerful thrusts should hurt me but instead, it reminds of other things. Naughty things. Now is not the time to get wet. The power is still out except for auxiliary things. I can hear the rain lashing against the windows and thunder rolling in the distance. I take a deep breath, reaching my hand up to touch his cheek.
"Hello?" I squeak. My voice is dry. So dry. Like I gargled with sandpaper. He halts his movements.
"You're alive?" he asks, eyes meeting mine. Moving my hand away from his face, I nod, while sitting up. As soon as I do, lighting illuminates the room once more, followed by the loudest thunder I've ever heard. The room shakes and the windows rattle. "She's alive. She's alive," he shouts like a crazy pe
rson.
Reaching out, my blood-stained palm touches his blood-stained shirt. Oh damn, his muscles are huge. “You brought me back from the dead. Now, what are you going to do with me?”
Chapter 2
Frankie
I kept my promise. I saved her. When I first saw her limp body, I felt like her soul was already severed from her body. I was so caught up in reviving her, I didn't notice her coming back. To me. I tell myself that she came back to me. I am obsessed with her. Obsessed isn't a strong enough word for what this is. This is fate. I am torn between being a doctor and being the beast that I know I am.
Even after she is showered and back in bed, I can't seem to leave her side. I'm drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Her words shook me. "You brought me back from the dead. Now, what are you going to do with me?" I don't have a sane answer for her yet, and I dare not speak the insane one. She's without a doubt the girl from my dream. I changed the outcome. She didn't die in my arms, though it was close. Too fucking close.
"You never answered my question, Doctor Stein," she says her voice lilting.
"Please call me Frankie. I'm not sure you are ready for my answer," I reply honestly.
"Try me," she counters causing me to chuckle. It's hard to believe she was having an organ removed not two hours ago or that she was clinically dead for an hour. She has healed pretty much miraculously. I wonder if my blood had anything to do with it.
