Kele made a strangled sound Liz had heard too many times before when someone’s beloved relative or friend had passed. One of the elderly women kept Kele from going to Jacob. “You’ll just be in the way,” she said.
The girl’s mouth twisted with frustration and grief. She wiggled out of the woman’s grip.
“Kele.” Zeke gestured to her and the rest of the women. “I want all of you to leave.”
“No.” She headed for Jacob.
Zeke stepped in her way, his size stopping her. “Jacob will be all right. I’ll be here with Liz.”
Indignation darkened Kele’s expression. She spoke through her teeth. “It’s because of her that he’s hurt.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it,” Zeke shot right back. “Liz had nothing to do with the ambush. Now get out of here. The longer you argue with me, the longer it’ll be before my brother gets the help he needs.”
She bounced in place, fists at her side.
A woman with a long scar on her right cheek took Kele’s arm, pulling her back.
She shouted, “Protect Jacob from her!”
Sighing, Zeke closed the door and went to Liz.
She wanted to run. Hell, she wanted this morning back when Zeke and Jacob had been whole, their beautiful bodies unmarred by bullets, their thoughts hopefully untroubled, their expressions serene.
When Liz had first seen Zeke tonight, he’d appeared to be sleeping. Jacob, however, was a portrait in pain, even though he was unconscious. The ends of his mouth turned down; perspiration shone on his body; his muscles bunched.
During her hospital rotations, Liz had seen people in the first throes of rigor, their features frozen in agony after a horrific death. What if Jacob was too far gone for her to help?
“Heal only those you believe will survive,” her father had warned.
Why? What if her healing made Jacob worse, rendering him vegetative? What would that do to Zeke and Kele?
“Help him, please,” Zeke said, bringing her hand to his mouth, pressing his lips to her birthmark.
A spark flowed between them, resembling a mild surge of electricity. Although Liz knew it was from her healing power, she suspected it might also be something more. A connection thatwas urging her toward this man, bringing him deeper into her soul.
Having experienced Carreon’s cruelty, she’d hoped to one day find someone like Zeke.
Silly, huh? None of her romantic fantasies would change the reality of their situation. It was insane for her to get involved with him, whether driven by lust or because she was so damn lonely. She had her father to think about and her people. They deserved a future without Carreon.
Pulling her hand free, Liz unknotted the blanket, allowing it to fall at her feet. Naked, she padded to Jacob, praying that she could bring him back to what he’d been. With her hand on his, she traced his long fingers.
Zeke joined her at the bed, the light from the bronze lamps causing his shadow to fall across the mattress. “What are you doing? Touch his wounds.”
“Not yet. I have to move slowly, or I’ll overwhelm his body.”
“To hell with that,” Zeke argued. “If you don’t move quickly, he could die.”
Liz grabbed his wrist, keeping him from forcing her to do as he wanted. Even though her strength was a fraction of his, Zeke didn’t fight her. “Remember what I told you in the van about my gift being able to heal or kill? Do you want me to prove that here with your brother?”
“Your touching Jacob could kill him?”
“It might if I move too quickly. You have to trust me, Zeke.”
“You do know I could pick you up and throw you across the room, right?”
Okay, so he did trust her, though not completely. “I need to move slowly. Please believe me, it’s for the best. It’s how I healed you.”
Zeke regarded his brother, helplessness and uncertainty on his face. “Take care of him, please.”