Lust Meter System: Conquering Beauties-Chapter 127: Morning Visit 2
"Now that I have some alone time," Liam murmured to himself, "let’s find out what that black heart was."
He took a breath. "System."
The interface materialized immediately in his vision, translucent and hovering just above eye level.
*[System Activated]*
*[Query Detected: Black Heart Analysis]*
Text began scrolling.
*[Black Hearts: Threat Gauge]*
*[Function: Measures intent to harm user. Operates on devotion mechanics similar to Lust Points but inverted.]*
*[Scale: 1-3 Hearts]*
*[1 Black Heart: Mild hostility. Subject dislikes user.]*
*[2 Black Hearts: Active threat. Subject seeks opportunity to harm user.]*
*[3 Black Hearts: Total devotion to killing user. Subject’s primary motivation is user’s death.]*
*[Note: Hatred and obsession share psychological roots with attraction.]*
Liam read it twice.
’So it’s the opposite of the lust meter. But it’s still devotion. Just... devotion to killing me instead of fucking me?’
He almost laughed but his ribs protested, sharp and immediate. He pressed a breath out slowly through his nose and waited for it to pass.
’That’s actually insane. So if someone hates me enough, they’re obsessed with me. Just in the worst way possible.’
The system flickered.
*[Correct: Extreme emotion creates exploitable connection regardless of type.]*
’So hatred is just lust but murderous.’
**[Simplified but accurate.]**
’That’s so fucked up.’
The display faded.
Liam stared at the ceiling for a moment.
The monitor beeped.
The fluorescent light above him buzzed at that low frequency that was just barely audible—annoying enough to notice, not loud enough to do anything about.
His mind began to spiral.
The figure held complete control over him — tossing him around like a ragged doll almost casually — and that was what made it unbearable.
Even the threat he’d made, the promise he’d meant with every fiber of his being, hadn’t mattered. Hadn’t even registered.
His jaw locked.
’Next time,’he swore silently. ’Next time, he dies.’
His phone buzzed on the counter across the room.
Liam’s glare cut to the phone, but it sat just out of reach and moving for it would mean tearing out the IV line.
’Must be Kelvin or Shay.’
It buzzed three more times, then went silent.
He held the thought for a moment longer before letting it go, sinking back against the pillow and leaving the phone where it was.
’I’ll check it later.’
He let his eyes close for a moment.
Resting as the medication kept the pain at arm’s length. His body felt like it weighed twice what it should.
The door opened.
Tasha walked in first.
Behind her was a doctor—woman in her forties, dark hair pulled back in a bun, white coat over blue scrubs, tablet in hand, stethoscope hanging around her neck.
"Mr. Carter," the doctor said, glancing at her tablet. "I’m Dr. Reyes. Good to see you awake. How are you feeling?"
"Sore," Liam said honestly. "Tired."
"That’s expected." She set the tablet down on the small table beside the bed and moved closer. "Let’s take a look at you."
She pulled a penlight from her coat pocket. "Follow the light with your eyes, please. Don’t move your head."
Liam did. Left, right, up, down.
"Good. Pupils are equal and reactive. No signs of concussion." She put the penlight away and reached for her stethoscope. "I’m going to listen to your lungs. Take a deep breath for me."
Liam inhaled. Pain flared across his ribs immediately.
"Slower," Dr. Reyes said. "Just what you can manage."
He tried again, this time more carefully. The cold press of the stethoscope moved across his chest, then his back as she leaned him forward slightly.
"Again," she said.
He breathed in. Out. In again.
"Your lungs sound clear. No fluid buildup, which is good." She helped him settle back against the pillow. "Now let’s check the wound."
She lifted the edge of his hospital gown carefully, exposing the bandaging on his left side just below his ribs. Her hands were steady as she peeled back the tape and gauze. 𝚏𝕣𝐞𝗲𝐰𝕖𝐛𝐧𝕠𝕧𝚎𝚕.𝐜𝚘𝗺
Liam looked down. The cut was maybe three inches long, stitched closed with black thread. The skin around it was bruised dark purple and yellow.
Dr. Reyes examined it closely, her fingers pressing gently around the edges. "No signs of infection. The bleeding’s stopped completely. Stitches are holding well."
She replaced the gauze and taped it back down. "The blade didn’t go deep—maybe an inch, inch and a half at most. Missed anything vital. You’re very lucky, Mr. Carter."
"So I’ve heard," Liam said.
She moved to check the IV line in his arm, adjusting the flow slightly. "You lost a significant amount of blood. That’s why you passed out at the scene. We’ve been replacing fluids and monitoring your levels overnight."
She made notes on her tablet. "Your hemoglobin is still low but improving. We’ll keep you on the IV for another twelve hours at least, run another blood panel this afternoon to see where you’re at."
"How long am I stuck here?" Liam asked.
"Depends on how your body responds. If your levels stabilize and there’s no complications, possibly later today, this evening at the earliest. But you’ll need someone keeping an eye on you at home for at least forty-eight hours after discharge. No strenuous activity. Plenty of rest and fluids."
She looked at Tasha. "Will you be able to do that?"
Tasha straightened from where she’d been leaning against the wall. "Yeah. I’m staying at his place right now anyway."
Dr. Reyes nodded. "Good. I’ll be back in a few hours to check on you again, Mr. Carter. If you experience any dizziness, nausea, or if the pain gets worse, press the call button immediately."
"Understood."
She picked up her tablet, instead of just leaving.
She paused at the door. "Get some sleep, Mr. Carter. Not because I’m supposed to say it." A beat. "You look like you’ve been running on spite for a while."
She left before he could respond.
The room went quiet except for the monitor.
Tasha stayed where she was, arms crossed, looking at him.
She looked exhausted.
The grey hoodie hung loose on her frame, and the dark circles under her eyes were pronounced in the morning light.
"I’m going home now," she said after a moment.
Liam looked at her. "Really?"
"Yeah, I need a shower," she continued. "And I need to get you something to eat. I’ll bring it by later."
Liam’s eyebrow lifted. "You cook?"
Tasha stopped. Turned to look at him. "Yes."
"You never cooked once the whole time you’ve been staying at my place," he said, his voice carrying the same dry sarcasm his eyebrow still raised.
Her face went red immediately. She looked away, suddenly very interested in the window on the far wall. "I just... I didn’t feel like it."
The way she said it was off. Defensive but not quite believable.
Like she’d grabbed the first excuse available and was already regretting it.
Liam raised an eyebrow. "You didn’t feel like it?"
"Yeah." She shifted her weight, still not meeting his eyes. "I just didn’t want to. That’s all."
There was something in the way she said it that was too quick and too flat that told him she wasn’t being entirely honest.
But he didn’t push it. She’d stayed all night in that chair. Whatever excuse she came up with was fine by him.
"I can’t wait to taste it," Liam said.
Tasha didn’t respond right away. She just looked at him for a moment, jaw tight, something shifting behind her eyes, it was just there then gone before he could catch it.
Then she turned away, reaching for her jacket off the back of the chair and slinging it over her arm.
"Don’t expect too much," she said, already moving toward the door.
She didn’t look back.
The door swung shut behind her, and the room settled into silence.
Liam stared at the empty doorway.
He let his head fall back against the pillow.
’Tasha’s trying to cook for me. I’m definitely dead.’
He almost smiled. It pulled at something in his chest that had nothing to do with the stitches.
The monitor beeped steadily.
The room settled into quiet.
Morning light pushed through the curtains, washing everything in pale gold.
He could hear the hallway outside as footsteps, a cart rolling past, someone talking in a low voice further down the corridor. Normal sounds. A place built around waiting.
Liam closed his eyes.
The medication was doing its job. The edges of the pain were soft now, manageable. His body felt heavy and warm in the way that only happened when you’d been running on adrenaline for too long and then suddenly stopped. He hadn’t realized how tightly he’d been holding everything together until right now, lying here with nothing to do and nowhere to be.
---
When he opened his eyes again the light in the room had shifted. Still morning but later.
Twenty minutes maybe, maybe more. His phone was silent on the counter.
The monitor beeped at the same steady pace.
He felt marginally more human.
He thought about getting up to grab his phone and immediately thought better of it.
The IV line wasn’t long enough and the pull on his side wasn’t worth whatever texts were waiting for him.
The door opened again.
Liam sighed without opening his eyes. "You’re back—"
"Why do you always take so long to text me back?"
That wasn’t Tasha’s voice.
Liam’s eyes snapped open.
Elena was standing in the doorway.
She was wearing a black dress that looked like it cost more than most people’s rent.
The fabric clung to every curve of her body her waist, her hips, her thighs. .
It stopped mid-thigh, maybe six inches above her knees, and the neckline plunged low enough to show the swell of her breasts pressed together.
The dress had a subtle shimmer to it, like silk mixed with something else, and it caught the light every time she moved.
Her long hair fell loose past her shoulders in soft waves.
She looked expensive. Polished. Like she’d just stepped out of a magazine like always.
"Elena," Liam said.
She smiled. A real one, not the polite version she used with other people. "Hi, Liam."
