Chapter 8

Alan's illness made him crave blood and become aggressive. Leaving Suzanne alone with him seemed reckless. Richard stepped forward with a worried look. "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 felt uneasy and looked at Alan, speaking in a firm but pleading tone, "You have to control yourself. Don't you dare hurt her!" Their worry was palpable as both men reluctantly stepped out. They glanced 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 were clenched tightly, 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. He had an almost primal urge to sink his teeth into her. Yet Suzanne didn't flinch. Instead, she moved to the couch and sat down gracefully, her demeanor calm and unbothered. Her eyes rested on Alan, her tone measured and steady. "I'm the only one who can treat your illness. Are you sure you want me to leave?" Alan's breathing grew heavier, his anger simmering beneath the surface. However, she continued, her voice unwavering, "You crave blood. Your body can't resist the hunger. It's driving you mad—making you irritable, reckless, and even violent. Your appetite has likely disappeared by now. You can't eat normal food anymore, can you?" Alan narrowed his eyes in surprise. Every word she had said was spot on. He'd been relying on IV drips to keep his body functioning and was barely holding on. But then his expression hardened, his lips curling into a mocking smile. "You could've gotten all of that from my father. Why should I believe you?" Suzanne leaned back on the couch, 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 in disdain. How capable could a woman be anyway? She couldn't possibly know what others didn't. But Suzanne's next words made him speechless. "You're not working down there, are you?" Her gaze landed on Alan, and he knew better than anyone else what she meant. His face turned stone cold. 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. He was suddenly at a loss for words. Suzanne smiled and said softly, "These symptoms aren't the last of it. You'll start to feel numbness creep through your body. Eventually, you'll lose all sensation." Alan's heart pounded, a chill spreading through him as he listened. Just this morning, he had felt a strange numbness that lasted a few minutes before disappearing. He had chalked it up to poor posture, but now that she mentioned it, he remembered it had been happening more often. And in hindsight, his posture hadn't been any different than usual. In the end, he would be nothing more than a broken man staring death in the face. Suzanne must have some understanding of his condition to describe so much in such detail. Alan took a deep breath, though it didn't 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 hanging on with IV drips, and even they don't fully suppress your symptoms. At the very least, I can help you get complete 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 say you'll be cured." Alan stared at her, momentarily speechless. His gaze lingered on her, his lips parting slightly as if to speak, but the words wouldn't come. Suzanne didn't wait for him to respond. "We'll use acupuncture. If you agree, I'll start now." Alan's eyes darkened, his mind a storm of agitation. But what was the harm in trying? At this point, he was already a dying man. If there was even a slim chance, why not take it? After a long silence, he finally replied, "Okay." Suzanne wasted no time. She stepped forward, removed the IV needle from his hand, and pulled a green cloth bag from her case. When she unfolded it, neatly arranged silver needles were seen resting against the thick lining of the cloth bag. The sunlight streaming through the window hit the needles, causing them to glint coldly. She selected a three-inch-long needle and held it in her palm. Alan, resting his hand on the blanket, instinctively flinched. Suzanne smiled and teased, "Afraid of needles?" Alan's expression darkened. Turning his head, he insisted, "No, I'm not! Just get on with it!" A hint of amusement flickered in her eyes. "Take off your shirt." Alan didn't reply, but he moved quickly, shrugging out of his hospital gown. His muscles were tense, likely from the effort of suppressing his inner turmoil. Suzanne's fingers brushed lightly against his back. "Relax. Stop trying so hard to hold it in. Close your eyes and take deep breaths." Alan's entire body stiffened further. Her hands were impossibly soft, sending a faint, tingling sensation through his skin. He had never been touched like this by a woman, and the unfamiliar sensation was strange. Terrified she'd notice his reaction, he quickly closed his eyes and forced himself to relax. The first needle pierced his skin, and a low, stifled groan escaped his throat. The sharp, prickling pain spread from the needle's entry point, radiating through his body and into his very bones. His fists clenched as he instinctively squeezed his eyes shut. Suzanne raised an eyebrow, momentarily surprised. She hadn't expected him to endure so much with so little complaint. The kind of pain this acupuncture caused would make even the toughest man cry out, yet Alan had only let out a muffled groan. He was quite determined. Without hesitation, she continued placing needles, her movements growing faster and more precise. The quiet room was filled with the steady rhythm of Alan's suppressed grunts. An hour later, Suzanne finally stopped. Stretching her stiff neck, she stood and took a moment to shake out her arms. Alan's forehead was drenched in sweat. Suzanne asked softly, "How do you feel now?