He nodded. “Very much. She nearly died saving me. She’s the reason it makes me crazy every time you risk your life. I can’t lose . . . another woman.”
“Where is she now?”
He touched her cheek. Her smooth skin was a warm temptation. “She’s moved on. Lived her life.”
“Without you,” she guessed.
“Exactly.”
“Brenya shouldn’t have brought you here. She should have let you stay to fight for her.”
“If it weren’t for Brenya, she’d be dead. For that, I owe the woman everything.”
“But she brought you here, tore you away from the one you love.”
Torr ached to say that the woman he loved was right here, close enough to touch. Or at the very least, tell her that Brenya had saved his love’s life but taken her memories. Surely that would have been enough for Grace to figure out that she was the one he loved.
It was too close to the truth for him to say the words aloud. Even thinking about doing so made his throat clamp shut.
He swallowed to ease the tightness. “We should figure out our next move. I don’t want to send you back to the village alone, but I’m in no shape to protect you, and it’s only a matter of time before the Masons rebuild themselves again.”
“I’m not leaving you here, not when you’re too injured to fight. How long do you think it will take for you to be able to walk?”
“It’s hard to tell for sure, but at least a few hours. Could be tomorrow before I can hike over rough ground.”
Grace surveyed the area. He could see her mind spinning as she assessed their options. Torr waited for her to reach the same conclusion he had—that she needed to go on without him.
“I’ll mix up something to help ease the swelling. It will make you sleepy, but when you wake up, we’ll make some kind of splint and get you mobile.”
“You’re not serious. You can’t stay out here when I’m not even able to protect you. The moving water may or may not slow down the Mason’s healing process, but even if it does, the other one is still out there. It will heal and when it does, it could decide to come after us.”
She gave him the same look she might give an errant child. “I’ve been protecting myself in these woods since before you came along and I will keep doing so long after you’ve gone. What I won’t do is leave a helpless, wounded man out here as bait for who knows what kind of creatures that might come along.”
“Helpless?” He forced himself to one foot, refusing to let her think of him like that. The move made his damaged knee throb, but it also eased his pride. “I’m far from helpless.”
“Good,” she said, then picked up a sturdy branch from the ground and tossed it at him. “Then carve this into some kind of crutch you can use.”
Torr caught the branch and nearly fell over when his balance went askew.
“Sit down. Elevate your leg. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“You sound like Brenya.”
She beamed. “Thank you.”
“I didn’t mean it as a compliment.”
She came to his side and grabbed his arm. “Then you should have chosen your words better. Now sit down.”
He wasn’t quite sure how she’d managed it, but he found himself on his ass, his leg elevated on the trunk of a fallen tree.
“I’ll be quick. Call out if you need me.”
He stared after her, trying to figure out what had just happened. His sweet, quiet Grace had just stepped up, completely taking over the situation. Just like he would have expected any female Theronai to do.
She’d always been insistent when she thought his safety was at stake, but there was something different about it this time. More confidence, more assertiveness. Her time here had changed her, and while it was going to make his life more difficult, he couldn’t help but enjoy it. Bossy or not, Grace had grown a stronger backbone. And it was sexy as hell.
She came back with her hands full of purple leaves, spindly roots and what looked like pale gray bark shavings. She shoved the ingredients into one of the water skins and gave it a good shake.
“Drink it all,” she ordered, handing it to him. “It’s going to taste like the bottom of a dirty foot, but you will drink it.”
With an order like that, what could he say but “Yes, ma’am.”
Torr drank. It tasted worse than she’d described, but he was blissfully distracted by the sight of Grace moving around the area, clearing space for a fire. The smooth efficiency of her efforts proved she’d done this before.
“Do you spend a lot of time in the woods?” he asked.
“I used to. Some of the women and I would go foraging for berries and herbs. It’s been too dangerous to do it lately.”
She pulled a small stone from a pouch and set it on a pile of dried grass, like an egg in a nest. With the end of a stick, she bashed the rock, and it exploded in a tiny ball of fire. After a few seconds, the fire grew to consume the smaller twigs she’d laid out. In no time, there was a tidy fire crackling away safely inside a ring of damp stones.
“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.
&nbs
p; 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.
Grace limped to the bag where Torr had put the box holding the crystals. Frost covered the leather surface. She pulled out the box, wincing at the icy chill that seeped out from the container wrapped in his shirt. She used that shirt to tie the box to her knee and let the cold help ease her pain.
She would be better soon. She had to be. He needed her to protect him while he slept so that he could protect her village and everyone she loved once he woke.
She kept a constant watch for Masons and Hunters, listening for any sign of their approach. She heard nothing.
The chill against her knee began permeating her blood as the air cooled and the sky darkened.
She scooted closer to the fire.
The movement woke Torr. His eyes opened, blinking away the haze of drug-induced sleep.
He should have slept much longer, but maybe he’d thrown off the effects of the anti-inflammatory potion as fast as he healed.
Grace shifted her body to hide her knee and quickly untied the box. She didn’t want him to worry.
He was at her side, looming over her just as she opened the lid.
Blue light pulsed out, instantly slowing her heart to match its pace.
“What are you doing with that?” he asked.
“Just looking at them.” The lie felt like acid on her tongue, but it was better than admitting her weakness.
“They’re dangerous. They need to stay cold. That’s why Brenya gave us the box.”
She shut the lid and tied his tattered shirt back in place to hold it closed. She handed him the box to keep from having to get up and put it away in his bag. “Are you feeling better?”
“Yes. My knee seems fine. I thought it would take longer to heal than that. Your dirty-foot potion packs a wallop, but it worked wonders.” He tucked the box back where it belonged.
“Glad to help.”
“I’d say we should get moving, but it’s probably too dangerous for you to walk through the woods at night.”
She wanted to snap at him, telling him she would manage, but he’d just handed her the perfect excuse to stay here, off her sore knee. “Probably smart not to risk it.”
He gave her a funny look, like he was expecting her to say something else. “What? No argument? Are you sick?”
“Of course not. You are capable of having good ideas, aren’t you?”
“I always thought so. I just wasn’t sure you did.”
If he prodded more, he might figure out what was going on. Before that could happen, she needed to distract him. “I’m going to sleep for a while. Wake me when you’re ready to go?”
“Sure. Okay. Whatever you want.”
“Just sleep.”
She rolled over, facing away from the fire and the light it put off. A moment later, Torr’s big feet filled her vision.
He crouched next to her. “I will figure out what you’re hiding.”
“I’m not hiding anything.”
“You are, but that’s okay. It’ll give me something to puzzle over while you sleep.”
“Really, Torr. I’m just tired. It’s been a crazy day.”
He gave a slow nod that wasn’t at all reassuring. “Sleep, then. I’m sure I’ll figure it out by the time you wake up. Then we’ll talk.”
Grace closed her eyes before they could give her away and prayed there’d be nothing to talk about by morning.
Chapter 19
Tori paced, waiting for Brenya to free her from her punishment.
Cutting Torr wasn’t right. She knew that. But this—this torture was more than she deserved. If she’d known she was going to end up here, she would have cut him deeper.
She covered her ears, trying to ignore the pitiful screams. She knew that it wouldn’t take much to make the noise stop, but her vow to Brenya stayed her hand.
She couldn’t kill it. Not today.
Finally, when she could take no more of the noise, she stalked over to the wooden box and looked inside.
The baby was red-faced, its chin wobbling with its misery. Each long scream ended in a breathless vibration that set Tori’s teeth on edge.
Willing to do anything to make the noise stop, she picked up the wailing child and held it at arm’s length.
The smell of piss sharpened the air. It was wet.
A stack of clean, soft cloths sat waiting to be used. Tori had never changed a diaper before, but if it would get the child to shut the hell up, she’d figure it out.
She set the baby on the bed, pinning it there with one hand while she re
ached for what she needed. The screaming went on, drilling its way into her ears. All she could think about was the way the children locked in those caves with her had screamed while they were being hurt.
The sour taste of bile rose in the back of her throat. She swallowed it down and stripped the squalling infant naked. The clean cloth went on the way the dirty one had come off, and in a few seconds Tori had managed the task.
She held the baby against her chest to check the back of her work, and instantly the screaming stopped.
Blissful silence filled the nursery and gave Tori some space to breathe.
She set the baby back in her box, and the screaming started again.
Tori’s skin crawled up her neck, trying to work its way into her ears to block the noise. She was desperate enough that she even put the baby back against her chest, hoping it would quiet again.
It did, which was more than a small miracle.
Tori went to the door where her captor stood guard—one of Brenya’s soldiers, who was willing to obey any order given.
She pushed the door open enough to say, “The baby is quiet. I’m ready to come out now.”
“Is she asleep?” asked the guard.
“No.”
“Then you’re not done yet.” The guard shut the door.
Tori looked down at her punishment. “Sleep,” she ordered.
The tiny thing blinked, but that was all.
Tori could make it sleep. Cover its nose and mouth. Just long enough to get it to close its eyes.
She moved her hand to do just that, but found herself frozen, unable to complete the motion.
“Stupid fucking vow,” she snarled. “What the hell am I supposed to do with you now?”
The baby blinked again.
It was kind of pretty for a screaming, bald creature. Long black lashes swept out from its eyes, wet from its crying fit. Its irises were the palest green, like newly sprouted plants on Earth. If Tori looked hard enough, she could see the slightest bit of motion in them—a kind of lazy swirling of silver and green that gave away the child’s heritage.
Tori didn’t know what color her baby’s eyes had been before it died. She hadn’t bothered to look.
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