Page 10 of Healing Creek
“No.” She shook her head against his chest. Slowly she eased back, loosening her grip on him, and he let her go. Her eyes locked on his face in the dim light. Her breathing had slowed, but her eyes were glassy and unfocused. She needed oxygen. The air had become very thin. He should have told her to use them earlier.
The power flickered back on. They both blinked at the change.
From the hall they heard Knock. “Alrighty folks. Shout out to let us know you’re okay.”
“We’re here,” Creek boomed.
“Systems are secure and life support should be back on…now.”
Grace took two deep breaths.
Knock’s irreverent voice came back over the speakers. “Be down to help you with that collar in a jiffy.”
Chapter Three
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Grace surveyed the room and took stock of herself. The mattress had fallen off the bedframe, but she was fine…thanks to Creek. Slowly he got to his feet and reached out a hand for her. She took it and he pulled her up. It put her back in the vicinity of his warmth. Her belly tingled and she yearned to move forward into his embrace. Where did that come from? She barely knew her rescuer.
Creek stepped back. He moved around the bed to lift the mattress back into position. He was an Arena Dog. To her he was like a mythological creature. She’d never expected to meet one in her sheltered life. But in the last year, thanks to her sister’s research, she’d learned a lot about his kind.
They were incredibly strong, they healed quickly, and they almost never got ill. But he was also just a man. The man that had touched her so gently and risked his life to protect her. And his movements were stiff and pained. She wanted to help but didn’t think she could do more without exposing her own abilities.
“Grace?” She’d been staring like a fool. She was drawn to him like a satellite to a planet—unable to move away, unable to move closer. Her name on his lips tugged at her. Her fear of…everything…kept her in place.
“Here I am, to save the day!” A man with a narrow face and bleached white hair that stood up in spikes waltzed into the room.
Creek’s spine snapped straight and his ears flattened back against his head. He growled and the man came to a sudden stop, throwing his hands in the air.
“Whoa! It’s me, Knock. Remember?” The man backpedaled to the doorway.
Creek tilted his head and studied the man. “Why are you here?”
“Here to help, buddy. Mercury sent me to help the lady get out of her collar.” He indicated Grace with a wave of his still raised hand.
“Where’s Feeona?” Creek growled.
“She’s laid up in the med-bay with a bad shoulder.” Slowly, Knock lowered his hands. “Look, man. I don’t have a neural implant like her, but I can handle this.” He strolled closer to Grace and tsked. “I am so glad that slaver bastard is dead. What has he done to you? Look at the size of that hunk of metal he’s got on you.”
Grace flinched at the news that Morgan was dead. Not that she had any sympathy for the criminal, but death was not a part of her world. And what would his death mean for her sister?
As Knock approached, Creek backed away. Selfishly, she wanted him to stay. Her fingers tapped compulsively against the top of her thigh; a tic she’d had her whole life—one of many small defects that marked her as flawed.
The other nine of her siblings had been born perfect, according to their parents’ design. Only she’d been born imperfect. So many defects. Her parents had been determined to love her equally, but she knew she would always be a failure in their eyes. Still, they would have paid a ransom for her. If not for a parent’s love, then for the biological secret she carried in her blood. But these men couldn’t know that. Only her family knew.
She suspected Creek had once been perfect. Now he wore the harshness of his life like a map made up of scars and old injuries. Her heart broke for him. He might no longer be perfect, but he was still magnificent.
His face looked different than an ordinary human’s. Broader cheek bones tapered to a mouth that sat forward from his eyes. His wolflike ears moved and flexed like a predator searching for prey. His smooth bronze skin wrapped a powerful body.
Knock put a knee on the bed behind her. “Turn a little so I can get at this lock.”
As his hands brushed casually against her neck, Grace cringed away, and her stomach dropped. How many times had Morgan told her tampering with the collar would separate her head from her body? And unlike the man who’d tried to release her earlier, these people were good. No longer controlled by Roma. Not worthy of being blown up alongside her.
“It isn’t safe.” Her lips trembled. She wanted to be free of the thing, but she didn’t want anyone else to be injured.
