Willing Sacrifice
Page 42
“How’s the knee?” she asked.
“Better,” he said, amazed by how well her concoction had worked. The deep, hot throbbing he’d felt before had faded. There was still pain, but it was a distant thing he had no trouble ignoring.
“You sound surprised.”
“Guess I am. Where I’m from, the healing is mostly done by the Sanguinar, and they always want to drink blood as payment.”
Her lip curled in disgust. “Eww. And here I was thinking it was time to eat.”
A swooping wave of dizziness spun his head around. “What was in that stuff?”
“Plants. Brenya taught me what to look for as soon as I was able to walk.” She smiled. “She said she wasn’t about to let me sit around and be a burden.”
“And remembering that makes you grin?”
“I was a burden. It took her ten times longer to do everything because she had to drag me around with her. Even longer to teach me what she knew. I was so slow, so weak. She never once lost patience, though. The fact that she said she wouldn’t let me be a burden made me feel like I wasn’t one.”
That crazy spinning sped up, and his eyelids got too heavy to hold open. “You could never be a burden to anyone, Grace.”
“There’s no possible way you could know that, but you’re sweet to say it, anyway.”
The water skin left his hand. He could smell her scent and knew she was nearby.
His words were a slurred mess. “You’re going to remember who you are soon. Remember everything.” Remember me.
“Some things are best left forgotten, Torr. You need to learn to accept that. I have.”
• • •
It wasn’t fair to lie to a man who was too intoxicated to think straight, but it was for the best.
She wasn’t completely sure how long Torr would sleep, so she went to work right away. A few careful slices through the leg of his pants, and his swollen knee was free. The fabric had been so tight it had left impressions in his skin. Deep bruises colored his knee and ran halfway down his shin, but they were already the color of days-old wounds.
As she watched, she swore she could see the sickly colors fading.
Careful not to hurt him, she probed the area, searching for signs of broken bones. The feel of his skin under her fingertips distracted her, and she had to start over and force herself to pay attention.
He loved another woman, and because of that, she shouldn’t have let herself feel anything for him at all, not even some girlish distraction.
She still couldn’t believe she’d kissed him. Even more surprising was that he’d almost kissed her back. If not for the spike of pain the disk had given her, chances were he’d have done a lot more than just kiss her.
And she would have let him.
She felt guilty enough that she’d kissed a man who loved another woman. If she’d had sex with him, she probably wouldn’t have been able to live with herself.
Whoever the woman was, she was an idiot not to hold on to Torr with both hands and never let him go. He was an amazing combination of sweet and fierce, ruthless and gentle. His anger had scared her, but she believed him when he said he would never hurt her.
Maybe that made her as much of a fool as her mother had been to believe her stepfather.
For the thousandth time since having that single memory restored, Grace wondered where her family was. If they were still alive. If they were searching for her.
If she proved herself to Torr, maybe he’d take her back to Earth, where she could have at least a chance of finding them.
She knew how bad things were there. How dangerous Earth was. Synestryn demons roamed free, hunting for even the slightest drop of Athanasian blood and the magic it carried. Brenya had told her that she had some of that running in her veins. Somewhere on Grace’s family tree there’d been an Athanasian ancestor. That made her vulnerable to attack.
While part of Grace wanted to stay here in the world she knew and understood, she still ached to go home. Yearned to make a life for herself with her own kind.
Torr was the key to that.
If she could convince him that she wasn’t weak, that he didn’t have to protect her from the Synestryn, that she wouldn’t be a burden to him, then maybe he would take her home.
She watched the firelight flicker over his body. He was shirtless again, giving her eyes a visual feast. The silvery necklace he wore danced with swirling patterns of light and color. Each breath expanded his ribs and drew her attention to his lifemark and the intriguing masculine planes of his body.
The desire to touch him was overwhelming. The only thing holding her back was respect for him and his love for the lucky woman. Even if she was out of reach to him, he still cared deeply for her. And while Torr had been obvious in his attraction to Grace, she refused to be a substitute for the woman he truly wanted.
Down that path lay her destruction.
It was better to keep her hands to herself, guard her heart, and hope that there were more men like Torr out there.
Sadly, if there weren’t, she was sure she’d end up alone, because from this point on, she knew she would compare all other men to him. And chances were that when she did, they’d come up lacking.
He shifted in his sleep, letting out a low moan of pain. The sound wrapped around her, bringing with it a memory of the smell of antiseptic and the hum of machines. Those echoes of memories faded fast, leaving her wondering what had triggered them.
His pain called to her on a level so deep she couldn’t deny it. She knelt by his side, taking his hand in hers. She wished there was more she could do to ease him, but she’d done everything she could. All that was left to her now was watching over him while he slept and healed.
For a moment, she allowed herself to wonder what it would be like to have Brenya’s power to heal. She knew the act wasn’t fun—that it took its toll—but she didn’t care. Power like that was worth the cost. Being strong enough to help people would go a long way toward making up for her physical weakness.
She gently laid her hand on Torr’s knee. Her fingers tightened. Heat spun up her arm, curling through her body until it dissipated as it flowed into the metal disk on her back.
As she stood to take her place guarding his sleep, her own knee began to ache as if she’d been kneeling on a rock.
She tried to walk off the pain, but a slow trip around the perimeter of their tiny camp did no good.
“Better,” he said, amazed by how well her concoction had worked. The deep, hot throbbing he’d felt before had faded. There was still pain, but it was a distant thing he had no trouble ignoring.
“You sound surprised.”
“Guess I am. Where I’m from, the healing is mostly done by the Sanguinar, and they always want to drink blood as payment.”
Her lip curled in disgust. “Eww. And here I was thinking it was time to eat.”
A swooping wave of dizziness spun his head around. “What was in that stuff?”
“Plants. Brenya taught me what to look for as soon as I was able to walk.” She smiled. “She said she wasn’t about to let me sit around and be a burden.”
“And remembering that makes you grin?”
“I was a burden. It took her ten times longer to do everything because she had to drag me around with her. Even longer to teach me what she knew. I was so slow, so weak. She never once lost patience, though. The fact that she said she wouldn’t let me be a burden made me feel like I wasn’t one.”
That crazy spinning sped up, and his eyelids got too heavy to hold open. “You could never be a burden to anyone, Grace.”
“There’s no possible way you could know that, but you’re sweet to say it, anyway.”
The water skin left his hand. He could smell her scent and knew she was nearby.
His words were a slurred mess. “You’re going to remember who you are soon. Remember everything.” Remember me.
“Some things are best left forgotten, Torr. You need to learn to accept that. I have.”
• • •
It wasn’t fair to lie to a man who was too intoxicated to think straight, but it was for the best.
She wasn’t completely sure how long Torr would sleep, so she went to work right away. A few careful slices through the leg of his pants, and his swollen knee was free. The fabric had been so tight it had left impressions in his skin. Deep bruises colored his knee and ran halfway down his shin, but they were already the color of days-old wounds.
As she watched, she swore she could see the sickly colors fading.
Careful not to hurt him, she probed the area, searching for signs of broken bones. The feel of his skin under her fingertips distracted her, and she had to start over and force herself to pay attention.
He loved another woman, and because of that, she shouldn’t have let herself feel anything for him at all, not even some girlish distraction.
She still couldn’t believe she’d kissed him. Even more surprising was that he’d almost kissed her back. If not for the spike of pain the disk had given her, chances were he’d have done a lot more than just kiss her.
And she would have let him.
She felt guilty enough that she’d kissed a man who loved another woman. If she’d had sex with him, she probably wouldn’t have been able to live with herself.
Whoever the woman was, she was an idiot not to hold on to Torr with both hands and never let him go. He was an amazing combination of sweet and fierce, ruthless and gentle. His anger had scared her, but she believed him when he said he would never hurt her.
Maybe that made her as much of a fool as her mother had been to believe her stepfather.
For the thousandth time since having that single memory restored, Grace wondered where her family was. If they were still alive. If they were searching for her.
If she proved herself to Torr, maybe he’d take her back to Earth, where she could have at least a chance of finding them.
She knew how bad things were there. How dangerous Earth was. Synestryn demons roamed free, hunting for even the slightest drop of Athanasian blood and the magic it carried. Brenya had told her that she had some of that running in her veins. Somewhere on Grace’s family tree there’d been an Athanasian ancestor. That made her vulnerable to attack.
While part of Grace wanted to stay here in the world she knew and understood, she still ached to go home. Yearned to make a life for herself with her own kind.
Torr was the key to that.
If she could convince him that she wasn’t weak, that he didn’t have to protect her from the Synestryn, that she wouldn’t be a burden to him, then maybe he would take her home.
She watched the firelight flicker over his body. He was shirtless again, giving her eyes a visual feast. The silvery necklace he wore danced with swirling patterns of light and color. Each breath expanded his ribs and drew her attention to his lifemark and the intriguing masculine planes of his body.
The desire to touch him was overwhelming. The only thing holding her back was respect for him and his love for the lucky woman. Even if she was out of reach to him, he still cared deeply for her. And while Torr had been obvious in his attraction to Grace, she refused to be a substitute for the woman he truly wanted.
Down that path lay her destruction.
It was better to keep her hands to herself, guard her heart, and hope that there were more men like Torr out there.
Sadly, if there weren’t, she was sure she’d end up alone, because from this point on, she knew she would compare all other men to him. And chances were that when she did, they’d come up lacking.
He shifted in his sleep, letting out a low moan of pain. The sound wrapped around her, bringing with it a memory of the smell of antiseptic and the hum of machines. Those echoes of memories faded fast, leaving her wondering what had triggered them.
His pain called to her on a level so deep she couldn’t deny it. She knelt by his side, taking his hand in hers. She wished there was more she could do to ease him, but she’d done everything she could. All that was left to her now was watching over him while he slept and healed.
For a moment, she allowed herself to wonder what it would be like to have Brenya’s power to heal. She knew the act wasn’t fun—that it took its toll—but she didn’t care. Power like that was worth the cost. Being strong enough to help people would go a long way toward making up for her physical weakness.
She gently laid her hand on Torr’s knee. Her fingers tightened. Heat spun up her arm, curling through her body until it dissipated as it flowed into the metal disk on her back.
As she stood to take her place guarding his sleep, her own knee began to ache as if she’d been kneeling on a rock.
She tried to walk off the pain, but a slow trip around the perimeter of their tiny camp did no good.
