Page 5 of Miles

“Of course, we will.” Dallas gathered the towel by her feet, while I gathered it around her head and the two of us carried her up the beach to the truck.

I winced when we lowered her in the bed, sure she would wake up screaming, but she was unaware. I touched bloodstained fingers to the side of the neck to feel for a pulse. It was there, but it was weak.

“Hurry!” I barked as Dallas slid behind the wheel, with Alan throwing himself into the passenger seat before we peeled out.

I wanted to stabilize her, hold her close, spare her every last bit of pain I could as we jostled over the unpaved roads. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. We’ll get you there soon,” I murmured, peeling dark, blood-soaked hair back from her forehead.

She was a beauty.

She was dying.

The brakes squealed once we pulled through the large, circular drive and came to a stop in front of the entrance.

I leaped over the side of the truck and opened the gate, using the towel to pull the girl to me while Alan ran inside for help.

They brought out a gurney, and two of Mary’s guys lifted the body from the truck while I explained to Phillip what had happened.

“I think she hit something on the way down,” I barked. “I don’t think hitting me would’ve caused that much damage. And she was already unconscious prior to that—she never cried out when she made contact.”

“This is all important to know.”

We burst through the double doors leading into what I could only describe as a makeshift hospital room, complete with overhead lights which the weathered, brusque Army surgeon lowered and flipped on before examining her.

In such harsh light, she looked worse than ever. Her skin was so fine and delicate, every bruise showed up like an ugly, garish stain.

“She’s bleeding inside. Heavily.” Phillip’s craggy brow creased even further. “It would’ve been better to get her to a hospital, but there probably isn’t enough time.”

“Can you help her, though? Does she need more than what you can provide?”

He shook his head. “I’ll do the best I can. We have to open her up.”

“Can you use our blood? There was plenty taken from the lab,” I pointed out.

“Yes, yes, but I have to find the source of the bleeding, first,” he said, pushing me out of his operating theater. “Get out of here, so I can do my work. She’s in good hands.”

In good hands. He’d just said she should’ve gone to a hospital, but wanted me to believe she’d be all right with him.

I sank into a chair in the hall and held my head in my hands, elbows on my knees.

In good hands. That had to be enough.

The dragon wasn’t so easily put-off, of course, and he raged inside me. His rage was born of frustration and a feeling of uselessness. We had done everything we could for her, but it didn’t feel like nearly enough.

After all the energy and excitement of the last half-hour, I felt strangely hollow inside once there was nothing left to do. Her blood was all over my clothing, driving her essence into my subconscious.

The dragon breathed her in, let her sink into him. Into both of us. I worried that I’d never be able to let her go after such an intimate connection forged itself between us. I had no more control over it than I did over the tides, unfortunately. Such things weren’t within my power.

Feet shuffled around me, though it was a long time before I raised my head to see who’d gathered.

Leslie and Ainsley stood against the wall, heads inclined toward each other as their breathless murmurs poured forth.

Dallas and Alan.

They seemed more concerned about me than they were the girl. I wanted to tell them to stop looking at me as they were, that I wasn’t the one to worry about. I’d be just fine. It was her, bleeding inside. She was the one in true danger.

Martina and Gate walked down the hall, hand-in-hand as always.

“Any word?” she asked, looking at me with something dangerously akin to pity in her eyes.

---