Page 25 of Healing Creek
She assessed the other garments and felt sure they would all fit. He was a good judge of women’s sizes. No, that seemed unlikely. He was just observant. Of her. She stepped around the privacy screen and found him standing, feet firmly planted and arms crossed over his broad chest.
His eyes widened and darkened. He nodded once, apparently satisfied with her appearance.
“Creek, it’s all…great. Thank you so much.” She stepped close and went on her tiptoes to press her lips to his cheek. Graciously he bent down so she could reach. She grasped his arm to steady herself. She’d never spent any time around muscular men. In her family, anything beyond being toned and agile was considered superfluous. But she liked the solid strength of him beneath her fingers. Despite his tough exterior, his cheek was smooth and warm against her lips. The twist in her belly tightened, turning into want.
Releasing him, she adjusted the hem of her sweater at her hips. She stepped back and his eyes scanned her closely. Heat prickled everywhere his gaze touched her.
He nodded again. “Come.” He held out a hand and waited for her to put her palm in his. She grabbed the bag of clothes and slung it over her shoulder, then took his offered hand. When she did, he clasped hers loosely and led her out of the med-bay door.
It wasn’t the first time they’d held hands, but he didn’t often initiate it. His hands were big and rough with scars, but warm and so gentle. A bit breathless, she stayed at his side, strolling through the ship’s corridors. He moved with confidence. She doubted anyone else had noticed the slight stiffness in his movements or the pain that left lines of strain in his brow. She’d been in pain often enough in her younger life to be intimately familiar with all the signs.
He was wearing ordinary clothing today. Snug pants that encased his muscular legs to the ankle and a shirt with plenty of room for movement. They might have been ordinary, but he made them look exceptional. They fit well, so he must have gotten them from one of the other Arena Dogs.
She almost missed the toga slung low on his hips, that he’d worn the day they met. Almost, but she couldn’t allow herself to enjoy the memory of something he likely found demeaning.
“Where are we going?” It had taken a few moments to register that they were not heading back to her cabin.
“I thought we could share dinner. We can carry our meals to the garden and eat there.” He didn’t look at her when he suggested it.
“Garden?”
The mess hall doors appeared, and he stopped in front of them. “It’s not called a garden. It’s a place where they grow food for the ship, and there are several display screens there showing images of the sky. It is…peaceful.”
It didn’t surprise her that he’d go out of his way to make sure they had someplace nice to share a meal. Did he need the peace or think that she did? He couldn’t know that no amount of greenery could keep her thoughts from worry for her sister. Regardless, the garden explained the fresh fruit that had been on her breakfast plate that morning. She supposed it would also be handy for a criminal to not have to regularly go to ports for supplies. Still, it did sound nice. She squeezed his hand. “I’d like that.”
The doors to the mess hall slid open on a silent woosh of air, but the noise of the group of Arena Dogs coming through those doors made Grace jump.
“Creek,” called one.
“Brother,” said another as he slapped Creek’s shoulder. “We missed you at the evening meal. We thought you’d be joining us.”
Creek dipped his chin in greeting. “I needed to complete my security rounds.”
A male, similar in size to Creek beckoned them inside the mess. “My mate provided steaks for the pack.”
Grace didn’t recognize either of the men that spoke. While it was easy to identify them all as Arena Dogs, the only one she recognized was Mercury. He’d been there the day Samantha had questioned the crew. Mostly, watching from across the room. His petite mate was nowhere to be seen nor was Diablo.
A caramel-skinned, dark-haired woman stepped forward with the shortest of the towering Arena Dogs. This one had silver hair and large lavender eyes. He stood out as exotic among some of the most beautiful men she’d ever seen.
“Hello,” said the woman, a question in her voice. “I’m Feeona.” Her hand pushed forward, and Grace took it by rote. How many times had she shaken hands with diplomats and businessmen and scientists. Feeona might be a few inches shorter than her, but she radiated presence that made Grace feel small.
“This is Grace,” said Creek.
“A pleasure.” Feeona smiled wide and welcoming, but with every second they clasped hands, Grace felt less. Less brave. Less worthy to stand at Creek’s side.
“And these are her mates, Jupiter and Seneca.” He indicated the exotic male at her side and the first man who’d spoken. Creek stepped closer and put a hand on her back near her waist. Feeona dropped her hand but didn’t move. “You know Mercury.”
Grace nodded. Despite her discomfort, she stood her ground. A skill she’d learned with much nagging from her family. Whenever she could, she preferred to melt into the background. She felt more comfortable there. But Creek wasn’t budging and the only space for her to move would be to press up against him. She didn’t feel she had that right.
Grace met Mercury’s gaze. “Where’s Samantha?”
“She and Lo are on the bridge. And our other brother and his mate are overseeing other matters. We can’t all afford to eat together while there is still so much to be learned about this ship and her crew and passengers.”
“Of course,” she agreed. “It isn’t safe.”
“No,” he said, expression turning somber. “It isn’t.”
Grace watched Creek as the others said their goodbyes and left them in the entry to the mess hall. He was stiff and clearly held himself apart. Not for the first time she wondered why that was.
