Unconscious Desires

The hospital antiseptic smell hit Lily Hart the moment she pushed past the double glass doors of St. Augustine Medical Center. She inhaled deeply, fingers clamped around the strap of her canvas tote bag. Her heart hammered against her ribcage-not out of fear of the procedure itself, but because something here felt too clean, too sharp, too final.

She was in for a simple laparoscopic surgery. Nothing serious, the physicians had warned. A routine procedure to remove an ovarian cyst. She was healthy and young. No complications expected.

Still, her nerves skipped.

"Lily Hart?" a nurse called out, clipboard in hand.

She rose from the waiting room chair, smoothing out nonexistent lint on her own skirt, and followed the woman down the hallway, not looking at the pale blue walls or the patients whizzed by on wheels. At the pre-op room, the nurse handed her a gown and indicated the alcove to change. Lily nodded and stepped behind the curtain, her hands trembling as she pulled off her clothes.

Why was she getting the jitters? Maybe it was just the hospital setting. Maybe it was that shivery sensation of something huge about to happen-though she had no clue why.

Before she was switched out of her clothes and onto the gurney, she heard the door open and soft footsteps approach. Then she heard his voice.

"Lily Hart?"

Her gaze leapt to the man in the doorway.

Tall. Shoulders wide. Wearing surgical scrubs that somehow looked like they'd been tailored to order to fit his precise dimensions. Dark hair ruffled at the crown, the rest of him neat to a point of soldierly precision. A white jacket over his dark blue scrub top, a stethoscope thrown around his neck.

But it wasn't just his appearance that made her stare-it was the cold steel in his eyes. A stormy gray, unreadable. Professional. Detached.

And yet... somehow, devastatingly attractive.

"I'm Dr. Adrian West," he said, consulting her chart without looking at her first. "I'll be your anesthesiologist today. I'll be administering general anesthesia for your procedure, which is scheduled to begin in about twenty minutes."

She managed a small nod. "Okay."

His gaze leaped to hers for a moment. Cutting. Assessing.

"Are you experiencing nausea? Fever? Chest tightness? Allergies?"

"No, none."

"Problems with your heart? Medication?"

"No."

His brow creased slightly, as if rewarded by the brevity of her answers. "You're a good candidate, then. We're going to be inserting an IV shortly, and I'll explain to you what's going to occur before and after sedation."

His tone was soothing. Cold. Brusque with command.

Lily paid attention. Something in the way he avoided small talk told her that he wasn't the sort of fellow to soften his rough edges for anyone. Probably spent years perfecting this very level of detachment. She knew the type-intelligent, urbane, emotionally disengaged.

Still, though, she couldn't help speculating as to why he was that way.

"Have you ever had general anesthesia before?" he asked.

She shook her head.

He only looked at her then. Really looked. And the moment his eyes met hers-firm, unflinching-her breath was stuck in her throat. There was something behind those eyes. Not warmth, not exactly. But something that danced in the periphery of his gray irises. Something that made her feel... seen.

"Then I'll take you through the steps," he said, his tone softer this time.

He placed his finger on her wrist to check her pulse. As soon as he touched her, Lily felt the jolt of an electric charge-like the quiet thrum of a horn buzzing just under her skin. He didn't react, yet his hand stayed for half one beat longer than necessary. There was a slight pause. Just long enough for her heart to skip.

She flushed and avoided his eyes.

You'll start with an oxygen mask," he said to her. "And then I'll administer the anesthesia via your IV. You'll be out quickly, and then asleep. You won't even feel anything while I do the procedure."

"Will I wake up... scared?" she asked, and then immediately regretted sounding so childish.

His eyes met hers again, and this time there was a shift in his expression.

"No," he said, quieter. "I'll be right there the whole time. You'll be safe."

Those words struck her in the chest harder than they should have.

He handed her a consent form to sign. As she scribbled her name at the bottom, she tried not to think about how he said the word safe. Like he meant it. Like he needed her to believe it.

The nurse returned a few minutes later, pushing the IV in with clinical precision. Dr. West took a step back, folding his arms across his chest, silent but listening. As they rolled her towards the OR, he moved closer.

"You'll start to feel drowsy in maybe a minute," he said, adjusting the IV drip. "I want you to concentrate on something peaceful, okay?"

"What?" she whispered, the world already starting to slow at the periphery.

"Something that makes you feel warm. Something you trust."

Her eyelids fluttered.

But the last thing she recalled wasn't a memory or a beach or a fire-it was him.

Those eyes.

That voice.

Dr. Adrian West.

---

She woke up slowly.

The post-op room was quiet except for the gentle beeping of machines and the occasional squeak of a nurse's shoes on tile. Lily blinked against the light, her head cloudy but questing.

And then she saw him.

He sat on the stool beside her bed, chart in his hand, but his eyes fixed on her.

"How are you doing?" he asked quietly.

She blinked again. "Dizzy. Strange."

"That's to be expected. The anesthesia will take a couple of hours to wear off entirely."

His voice was calming, but his presence. it was too much. Too close. Too jarring against her dizzied thinking.

"I had a dream," she croaked.

"Oh?

She rolled her head slowly to turn to him. "You were in it."

Across his face flashed something unreadable. Then, slowly, his mouth curved-not into a smile, but into something almost. conflicted.

"You were supposed to think of something safe," he explained.

"I did."

She did not know why she spoke. Maybe it was the medication. Maybe it was the vertigo of consciousness. But his gaze fixed upon hers again, and this time it lingered longer than it should.

Too long.

They developed a silence that had something to it.

"Rest," he finally said, rising.

His fingers brushed across her shoulder as he smoothed the blanket over her. Another tender touch, another jolt of electricity running through her system. It was nothing. Professional. Necessary.

It didn't feel like nothing, though.

He turned and walked away, and Lily lay there, heart pounding, trying to make sense of what on earth had just happened.

She'd met her anesthesiologist. He was cold, impassive, much too controlled.

And yet. something about him made her feel the very opposite.