Page 32 of Healing Creek
Tears tracked down her pale cheeks. She wrapped her arms around his body and pressed against his chest. He responded without thought, wrapping his arms around her in return. Her cheek pressed against his tunic. Her tears were cool as they dampened the material. Her arms held him tight as if her life or her heart depended on keeping their bodies pressed together.
Afraid to break her delicate body, his hold on her was light. He rubbed his hand along her spine. The silken strands of her hair brushed against the backs of his hands like a caress.
“It will be all right, my butterfly. You’ll be all right.” He wished he had the gift of words to reassure her, but it was all he could think to say. Her shoulders shook and she sobbed against him. “I’m here. You’re not alone.”
She looked up, smiling through her tears. “I’m glad you’re here with me.”
The color had returned to her cheeks. Her lips looked inviting, and he couldn’t resist them. He leaned down slowly, giving her time to stop him if she chose. She didn’t stop him. She kept her face tilted up to his and her gaze held his until their lips were close. Only then did her eyes flutter closed. He pressed his lips to hers and joined her in sightlessness. All the better to savor the warmth of her lips, to take in her cookie scent, to hear the beat of her heart, strong and steady.
He traced the curve of her bottom lip with his tongue, and her mouth opened as if to invite him in for a deeper taste. His muscles tightened and fire sizzled through his veins. He pressed his tongue inside and tangled it with hers, welcoming and eager. He wanted to make her his. He wanted the kiss to go on forever.
He pulled away reluctantly when the sound of footsteps coming down the hall reached his ears. A question started to form on her lips when he stopped her. “We’re no longer alone.”
He gave himself a brief moment to glory in the dazed look in her eyes then he released her and brushed away her tears with his thumbs.
Over her head he met Lo’s midnight eyes. There was no need for the Dog to speak.
Creek laced his fingers with Grace’s. “They’ve made a decision.”
Chapter Thirteen
TheAbundance
EarthAllianceBetaSector
2210.195
The next morning, Creek stood in his planned position across from theNeella, with a good view of the shuttle bay entrance. The bay was a cavernous place. Had it only been five days ago that the room had been full of the small vessels used by St. Germain’s guests. All but a few were gone now. Of the remaining vessels, one had belonged to the mercenaries, safely tied down now, and the others had belonged to guests who’d perished during their battle to take the ship.
TheNeella’stwo pilots were doing their preflight checks and Carn and Mercury stood near the hatch. A small group of former slaves huddled close. Most of the newly-freed men and women had agreed to Mercury’s appeal for them to stay until they could be replaced, but several humans were eager to return to family. Grace and Samantha’s friend, Knock, stood among them.
Grace wore her old clothes, the creamy soft trousers and top she’d been wearing the day they’d first met. Knock wore a borrowed tunic and trousers with none of his usual flare. His freshly dyed hair lay flat against his head, and he kept his shoulders rounded. The man had agreed to attempt to follow the two mercenaries when they left the ship in hopes of discovering where Grace’s sister was being held. It was a dangerous task, but the man had volunteered. Before he could do that, though, he had another important role to play. His first job was to start a rumor among the departing crew.
The Arena Dogs, he would whisper, had discovered someone valuable among the slaves. Someone they’d decided not to release until she could be bartered for ransom. It was a believable enough story. With the help of Jupiter’s mate, they’d done exactly that with many of the auction guests. As she was fond of saying, a rebellion needed funding. After the seed had been planted, Mercury and Carn would escort Grace out of the shuttle bay.
Four of the Dreat would be bringing in the former crew along with the mercenaries at any moment. Creek had instructed the Dreat to position themselves to surround the crew and mercenaries and to ensure no contact between Patel, Santos, and Grace. The mercenaries would be able to verify her presence without speaking to her or getting too close. Creek didn’t want to take any chances that they might put up a fight to take Grace with them. Mercury had planned everything carefully to ensure the mercenaries would see no opportunity once they realized she was out of their grasp.
He looked over to Grace and saw her watching him. Was she remembering their kiss? Through the night he had thought of nothing else. Every detail was etched in his mind. The softness of her skin, the warmth of her body against his. Her enticing scent. The taste of her lips.
The door to the bay slid open and the Dreat led in the crew who were leaving the ship. Most of the figures shuffled across the decking, still wearing crew uniforms. Shoulders sagged and the gloom of their time in the slave hold sat heavily on their faces. Creek looked for Roma’s mercenaries. They should be easy to spot as the only two in shackles.
Creek’s ears twitched and his eyes searched. All but one of the Dreat were inside the bay and Patel and Santos were nowhere in sight. His gaze slipped over to Grace. Her fingers tapped at her thigh as she spoke quietly to the former slave next to her. Creek didn’t want to leave her unprotected, but the threat was not in the room. He shifted his attention back to the door and strode rapidly toward the corridor. His soft flex-boots whispered as he crossed the alloy floor of the bay.
As he reached the doorway, he registered the missing Dreat collapsed down the hallway. A booming wall of sound exploded toward him. The percussion hit like a shock whip and immediately stole the light. Seconds later the pain radiating in his bones burst into his awareness. He must have hit the floor hard. As his vision returned, the side wall of the bay with its winches and brackets came into focus. His muscles were slow to respond to his call to rise. A murmur of voices, sounds of distress, shock, surprise swelled in his overtaxed senses, but no yip or bark of Dogs. No twisting vibration of Dreat voices. Footfalls slapped the floor passing behind where he lay crumpled on his side.
Creek pushed his body to respond and lifted his torso up far enough to see where Grace had been standing. One of the mercenaries leaned over her and lifted her up and over his shoulder. In the brief flash of her pale face, he’d seen she was terrified and struggling with blood at her nose and ears. Fuck!
He dragged his feet beneath him, and the space tilted in front of him as he lurched forward. The mercenaries ran for their ship, taking Grace with them. It was foolish of them to forgo the relative safety of leaving on the shuttle for this crazy attempt at escape and kidnapping. Creek’s heart thundered in his chest and his belly felt like a black hole had appeared inside him, sucking the weight of the universe into his gut.
The mercenaries’ ship had been disabled. He was sure that’s what Mercury had told him. But Patel and Santos might not suspect that. They didn’t know that Mercury’s pack had learned that two of them had survived. Or they might have the skill to overcome whatever had been done.
Creek lurched forward again, moving easier this time. The first of the mercenaries, not the one carrying Grace, had made it to the ship. Despite the knowledge that the ship couldn’t carry her away from him, he did not want her inside that transport, where a sealed door could lock her away. Away from the healer she clearly needed.
The low rumble of Dogs crept into his ears. The others were up and moving toward them, but he was closest. He pushed forward gaining speed. The unmistakable sound of an engine firing pulled another curse from his lips. So much for disabled.
Both men were inside the ship when Creek reached the still-open door. It was a small craft, the pilot’s seat just in front of the open hatch. The rear compartment was outfitted with rows of passenger seats and storage containers in the aft. Grace lay crumpled on the floor like a broken doll. She seemed dazed, her eyes unfocused. Patel knelt over her. The ship was gliding forward, ramp retreating, door lowering. Creek launched himself through the door even as it slid closer to the hatch seal. His shoulder hit the edge of the opening as he cleared it.
Patel pulled a dagger from a sheath at his ribs. How the fuck did he have a weapon? Creek threw up an arm to block the blade and felt the slice dig into muscle. He shoved hard to unbalance the man, mindful of Grace on the floor between them. From his position near the floor, Patel didn’t have the power for a blow, but he wrapped an arm around Creek’s leg and ensured his momentum carried him to the floor.
