Gate

by Ava Benton

  It was an excruciatingly long wait.

  Mary passed through, as did Bonnie.

  I barely registered their presence, even when Bonnie tried to insist I go and bathe myself instead of sitting vigil outside the operating room.

  I didn’t reply, and Gate led her away.

  When the door opened, I was on my feet in a flash and had to stop myself from taking Phillip by the shoulders and demanding what had taken so long.

  There were dark circles around his eyes, and his color was considerably more gray than it had been prior to starting in on her.

  “It will take a little time,” he announced. “I believe the emergency has passed. The bleeding has stopped.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief, as did those around me.

  “However,” he continued, “there was a great deal of damage done to her right side. Crushed ribs, punctured lung, and the arm and leg both broken in several places. I’ll not be able to set the limbs until the damage to her side heals, as she needs to breathe without drowning in blood. It could take a day, maybe two. Until then, she’ll need constant attention—should she start to aspirate blood, I’ll need to know immediately.”

  He looked at me, his eyes sharp and knowing. “I would feel much better about this if she were in a hospital.”

  “What happens if you take her to one, and they wonder how her internal injuries are healing so quickly?” I asked, thinking fast. “Wouldn’t that raise a red flag?”

  “Yes,” he admitted with a frown. “It would. Once I used dragon’s blood, there was little hope of her being treated by outsiders.”

  I could nearly taste the relief on my tongue, as though it were a real thing. There was no explaining my need to keep her near. I only knew I had to. She couldn’t be left to the rest of the world, where anything might happen to her. She was too fragile, delicate, in need of protection.

  “I can set up a schedule for anyone who’d like to volunteer their services,” Martina offered.

  Phillip nodded. “Good. Once the lung has healed, I’ll be able to set the limbs. She’ll need to be unconscious throughout all of this—the pain would be too much for her to stand, otherwise.”

  Mary approached. “We have the drugs for that, don’t we?”

  “We do. It’s a good thing you insist on being so well prepared,” he replied with a tight, tired smile. “I’ll transport her to the nearest available room, and we’ll set her up there.”

  He disappeared again, this time with Mary at his heels.

  I was back to feeling helpless, with nothing to do but wait for things to unfold as they would.

  Not a position I enjoyed being in.

  Ainsley was frowning when she turned to voice the question which had been bouncing around my brain for hours. “What would make a beautiful girl like that think suicide was the only answer?”

  Martina shook her head, as troubled as the rest of us. “I don’t know—but whatever it was, it must have been pretty bad.”

  We stepped back when both doors opened, and Phillip wheeled a gurney through the doorway and down the hall.

  The girl was under a sheet, her eyes closed, looking for all the world as though she were already dead. Only the sight of a pulse beating under the fine, soft skin of her throat assured me that she was only asleep, which was the best condition for her to be under at that time.

  “I’ll take the first shift,” I offered, watching as they moved down the hall.

  “I don’t think so,” Gate muttered, standing by my side. “You’re a mess. Bloody, dirty. Why not wash up and get a little rest? They’ll only be settling her in for the time being.”

  I glared at him, but not for long. I wasn’t angry. I was helpless.

  And he understood that as I searched silently for answers and he squeezed my shoulder in response. “I know. But you’re no good to her half-dead. Take care of yourself. You can always have the next shift.”

  I had no option but to agree.

  Chapter 4

  Savannah

  The pain. The pain. Nothing in the world existed but the pain.

  I couldn’t be dead. Dead people didn’t feel pain. But I wasn’t floating in the water or curled up on the rocks at the base of the cliff, either.

  If there hadn’t been fiery, hot pain originating from my right side, I might have been comfortable. My head rested on a soft, thick pillow. There was a mattress beneath me. I was inside—a fan whirred above me, stirring the otherwise still air. How in the world did I survive the fall?

  Footsteps.

  I stiffened when their sound met my ears. A hard floor. Heavy feet.

  Oh, God, what if Papa somehow found me? Or, worse, Antonio?

  What if I went through all that soul-searching and the pain of having hit whatever it was I hit for nothing?

  I gritted my teeth against the fresh wave of agony which slammed into me when I remembered hitting the rock or branch.

  I couldn’t move my arm or my leg, not that I wanted to try very hard. Wherever I was, I was trapped here. What if I had leaped into an even worse fate than the one I had imagined for myself?

  “Are you awake?” A male voice. Deep, but soothing. “You don’t have to be afraid. There’s nothing to be afraid of. We just want to help you.”

  We? Who was we?

  I didn’t open my eyes and struggled to stay as still as possible. My writer’s imagination whirled out of control, coming up with one terrible scenario after another. It would be like that movie about the writer who gets taken hostage by the woman who’d saved him from freezing to death. Only I was nowhere near famous, and whoever had gone to the trouble of rescuing me deserved more than my automatic distrust.

  So, I allowed my eyes to flutter open.

  The walls were white, the curtains at the French doors a thin, gauzy material which stirred prettily as the afternoon breeze wafted in. It was a beautiful room. Serene.

  I took a chance and turned my head from one side to the other, to get a look at the person belonging to that deep voice.

  He sat beside the bed, leaning over with his elbows on his knees. An absolutely massive man. Broad-shouldered, impossibly thick with muscle. A bodybuilder or professional athlete.

  This was probably his vacation home or private retreat. There were plenty of people like that on the islands. Hair that reminded me of cherry wood—dark, with a few deep red highlights that showed when the light caught him just right. Set deep in his rugged, handsome face were eyes the color of black coffee. But they were kind eyes. Understanding. Full of apprehension. Over me? I was merely a stranger.

  “You gave us a scare,” he murmured, smiling. When was the last time I saw a smile without any hint of an ulterior motive behind it? “It’s been a long few days.”

  A few days? I had been unconscious for that long?

  My forehead furrowed as I frowned, struggling to find the words to express my confusion.

  “You don’t have to speak right away,” he offered, raising a glass with a straw sticking up over the rim. “You must be thirsty.”

  He was correct on that count. My mouth felt like somebody had replaced the interior with sandpaper. It was an awkward affair, trying to sip the water he so clumsily-yet-ardently offered.

  I tried to express my thanks with my eyes, and the look of relief I saw in response told me the message was received.

  My eyes darted back and forth, as if to ask where I was.

  He understood that, too. I wondered if we would ever have to exchange a single word.

  “You’re on St. Lucia, at a resort run by a good friend of mine.”

  A resort? I needed to be in a hospital, if anything. But…

  No. This was just fine. A hospital would want to know who I was. They would contact Papa.

  He continued. “Don’t worry about your care, either. There are medics here.” He indicated the IV port in my left arm. “Fluids to keep you hydrated, pain meds. They’re probably what kept you out for so long, but you did a lot of damage to yourse
lf. It was better for you to sleep while your broken bones were set. It shouldn’t take long for you to heal now.”

  Shouldn’t take long? I’d broken bones, according to him. Did he know something I didn’t?

  “I’ll let you rest now,” he said, unfolding his body as he stood.

  The man was a giant—at least, he looked that way from where I looked up at him. I should’ve been afraid of him. A hulking beast. But there was nothing beastly about him. Strength? Power? Yes, both, in spades.

  An energy I had never felt before circled around him, radiated from his pores, but it didn’t intimidate me. If anything, it left me feeling warm and secure. I was safe, at least for the time being.

  It was what would happen once my savior found out who I was that kept me from falling asleep when I was alone again.

  Afterword

  I hope you enjoyed Gate!

  Miles is next! Get yours!

  Click here to see if you’ve missed any!

  Keep turning!

  Sign up for the newsletter to learn of releases!

  Click on link for

  Newsletter

  or put this in your browser window:

  mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/m7a8c5

  Copyright © 2017 by Ava Benton

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.