Page 20 of Healing Creek (Arena Dogs #3)

Chapter Fifteen

The room was quiet when Creek woke, but something had disturbed him. For a moment he just listened, controlling his breathing. Then the scent registered. It was Grace. Stress laced through her pleasing scent. Even in sleep she was worrying.

He shifted onto his back and she edged closer.

Her pretty little nose pressed against his bare arm.

Her hand still clung to his. A twitch jerked through her slender frame.

Her eyes moved under her closed eyelids.

She was dreaming and it wasn’t a good dream.

He didn’t know if he should wake her or let her sleep.

She twitched again and whimpered in her sleep.

His heart broke for her. That sound brought him back to his childhood when he could hear other children crying in the night.

He couldn’t help those children at the time, but he could help Grace now.

He made soothing noises and pulled her into his arms. She struggled and thrashed.

Damn. Perhaps he shouldn’t have touched her.

“Grace. Grace, it’s alright. You’re safe.” He held her in his arms to keep her from hurting herself with her thrashing. “Grace,” he said with more force.

She startled awake and immediately clung to him. “Creek.”

A flood of tears filled her eyes and she quickly buried her face against his soft shirt. He rested his chin on the top of her head and murmured, “You’re safe now. Everything is all right.”

“Jenny. I dreamed they killed her right in front of me.” She sniffled as she spoke.

Of course, she’d been worried over her sister rather than for herself.

“Tell me about her. You have many siblings, but I sense Jenny is special to you.” He rubbed a hand up and down her back for long moments until she scooted back enough to put a few centimeters between them. “Lights, up twenty percent.”

She sat cross legged with her hands balled together in her lap. “I love them all, but she’s special.”

“Tell me,” he repeated.

She wiped away her tears and sighed. “It’s a complicated story. I was sick a lot as a child.”

Her scent still showed signs of stress.

“Arena Dogs are rarely ill. We are often injured but don’t often contract human illnesses.”

She smiled sadly. “That’s your amazing genetics. Our families have that in common. Genetic engineering.”

His heart slowed painfully. What was she saying?

“There’s a difference in the level of engineering it took to craft Arena Dogs. That takes genius level engineering.” She looked down at her hands. “Genius like my great aunt had. Genius like Jenny has.”

He didn’t like this conversation and her scent told him she didn’t like it either, but he needed her truth. He needed there to be no secrets between them. “So, Jenny is special because she’s genius.”

“No. I mean, she is. But that’s not why she’s special to me.”

He huffed. “You’re confusing me, Butterfly. It’s still very early in the morning.”

She laughed and looked up at him through her eyelashes. “Let me tell it my way. I’ll get there, I promise.”

He turned and maneuvered into a more comfortable position sitting face to face with her if she would only look at him. “I’m listening.”

She nodded, but she didn’t return his gaze.

“So, you are genius level engineering. My family, my siblings, we’re ordinary human genetic tampering.

My parents did it themselves. They’re good, but not perfect.

All my siblings got a genetic advantage, higher intelligence, a healthy constitution, even attractiveness. All but me.”

He wanted to tell her he could not imagine her more beautiful, but he didn’t think she’d appreciate the interruption.

She looked up to face him. Tears filling her eyes and clinging to her lashes. “They messed up with me, Creek. I’m flawed. That’s not just poor self-esteem. I got the short end of the genetic DNA stick.”

This, he realized, was a big part of her fear; fear of all the things she couldn’t do.

He wanted to understand and to help if he could.

He reached for her hand and squeezed gently.

“Maybe you do not have the same advantages as your siblings, but there is nothing wrong with you.” For him she was perfect.

She didn’t laugh or even smile. “I have genetic defects that cause me to be frailer than the average person. Among other things, I have Batten disease. It’s a fatal disease, but my parents could afford amazing medical care.

When I was an infant, the doctors were sure I’d die.

When I was a child, they still didn’t think I’d live. ”

A moment of terror struck him. Could she still die from this disease? But no. If she was still ill, he should be able to smell it.

“Most of my siblings were afraid to spend time with me. Jenny not only visited my sick room, she played with me, talked to me like a regular kid about all the things out in the wide world. She brought normalcy to my life, one visit at a time.”

“This is why she’s special.”

This time she took a deep breath and nodded.

“Very special. She also went into genetic engineering to try to understand what went wrong with me. She started digging around in my aunt’s lab notes on the Arena Dogs, trying to find some way to fix me.

So, you see…I’m the reason she’s in trouble now. It’s all because of me.”

Creek frowned. “You take on too much responsibility. We all make decisions every day that affect the future in ways we cannot predict. Your sister made her own choices, and I’m sure more weighed into them than you know. You didn’t choose to be sick. You’re not to blame.”

She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his cheek. Warm, soft and centimeters from his own. A rush of desire seared through him. He fought it down and spoke instead. Her scent was changing. The worry leaving her.

He focused on her brilliant blue eyes and breathed in her healthy scent. “There’s one thing I still don’t understand. You don’t seem sick now.”

“I’m a lot better. That amazing medical care I mentioned. It still does catch up with me sometimes. When I’m run down, tired, don’t eat right…I get weaker, can’t think clearly, and sometimes I repeat myself without realizing.”

“Fatigue does this to all of us sometimes but now that I know this is more of a problem for you, I can help you stay strong.”

She grinned. “You really think I can be strong?”

“Yes. I think you are strong.” He traced the back of his fingers along her jawline.

She leaned toward him and her eyes were clear of tears. “Great. Then maybe it’s time for my first lesson.”

She didn’t want to go back to her dreams where fear stalked her. Fair enough. He would help her find her own strength.

***

“Lights on,” Grace said as she stepped into the Abundance ’s gym.

At such an early hour it was no surprise to find it abandoned when they arrived for the lesson Creek had promised her.

She wore her own trousers paired with one of his shirts.

She tied one side of the hem into a knot to keep the whole thing from hindering her movements.

Creek wore a sleeveless pullover in a cerulean blue that looked amazing on him, coupled with soft loose pants.

She enjoyed the view of his muscled posterior moving beneath the black fabric as he led her to a brightly lit back corner.

“This is the sparring square.”

Grace had rarely been in a gym and those visits were very different from this. Mats covered the floor. Along the wall, an array of punching targets hung from the ceiling or were mounted on poles. Weights were neatly stacked along the adjacent wall, as well as an emergency med kit.

They walked to the center of the mat and turned to face each other.

“You believe yourself defenseless but that’s untrue,” he said, his voice echoing off the unadorned walls.

Grace fidgeted with the knot in the shirt as she took in the space.

He lifted one of her hands and traced the visible bones of her wrist with the scarred tip of one finger.

She suppressed a shiver of pleasure. “While you train, we’ll wrap your wrists to protect your tendons and ligaments.

You’ll also wear training boots to protect your ankles. ”

He went over to a rack along the wall and selected a pair of adjustable boots and helped her into them. As he applied the spray wrap to her wrists, she followed his instructions on how to get it to set properly. After a minute of drying time, they were ready to begin.

“Now, go ahead and make a fist for me,” Creek instructed. Grace curled her slender fingers inward, her knuckles protruding as she clenched a tight fist. Creek gently corrected the placement of her thumb outside her fingers. “That’s right, just like that,” he said with an approving nod.

“You won’t build any muscle without working with the weights, but I can teach you some simple techniques to break away if someone tries to grab you.

” Grace planted her feet on the mat, ready to learn how to unlock the strength Creek seemed so sure she possessed.

If he believed she could do this, she would believe it, too.

“The most vulnerable parts of the body are the eyes, throat, and groin,” Creek said. “If you need to defend yourself, aim for those areas.”

Grace nodded, concentrating intently on his instructions. She’d been so helpless and afraid when Patel grabbed her. But Creek’s reassuring manner made her more confident.

“Let’s start with some basic punches,” Creek said.

“Make a fist and extend your arm, rotate your hand as you land the punch.” She copied his motion.

“Good, now do the same while rotating your hips and shoulder into it.” He held the punching bag steady as Grace mimicked his form. She swung hesitantly at first.

“Don’t push with your arm,” Creek advised, stepping around behind her.

He held her hips, guiding her movements.

His hands were warm and large and distracting on her body.

“Drive the punch from your back foot, putting your body weight into it.” Grace tried again, this time pivoting her hip as she drove her fist into the bag. It swung satisfyingly.

“Good!” Creek said. “Now focus on keeping your wrist straight. We don’t want any fractures.

” As he moved back, Grace continued punching, each hit sounding louder as she gained momentum.

Creek adjusted her elbow and footwork, seemingly unconcerned with her occasional off-target strikes.

Touch after touch her heart beat faster.

Next, he taught her another punch with her opposite hand.

After a few minutes, Creek stepped behind the swinging bag.

“Okay, now I’ll hold it. Give me some real power behind your punches.

” Bracing himself, he gripped the bag’s tether.

Grace narrowed her eyes, adrenaline pumping through her as she landed a solid punch.

She fell into a rhythm, striking again and again, envisioning Patel’s face.

“Nice work!” Creek said. “Now try some kicks.” He demonstrated lifting his knee and thrusting his heel out in a quick snapping motion.

Grace imitated the move but struggled to keep her balance.

“It’s okay, kicks take more coordination,” Creek said.

“Try again but only tap the bag at first, then build power.”

Soon Grace was landing forceful kicks, the bag denting under her boot’s impact. As she found her flow, she thought about the times she’d been helpless and afraid. Now she felt a rush, knowing she could fight back.

The moment Creek called time she let her joy take over. She threw herself against him and his arms closed around her. “That was great,” she said. She let herself glory in the solid strength of him pressed against her.

“You did well,” he said softly. His hands stroked along her spine and settled at her hips. “With practice, these techniques will become second nature.”

Grace was sore but the pulsing pain felt earned and she felt bereft when he stepped back, putting space between them. Stoic and stiff, he passed her a container of water. She gulped it down, wiping sweat from her brow.

“Thank you for teaching me,” she said. “I know I’m not strong, but—”

“No,” said Creek, his stern face softening. “Never allow yourself to feel helpless. You have an inner strength, Grace. I can give you these lessons, but you must believe you can succeed. The mind is always your strongest weapon.”

Grace nodded, understanding. She would believe in her own capabilities and that would give her the power to act when the time came. That and a lot of practice.