Page 23 of Healing Creek (Arena Dogs #3)

Chapter Eighteen

By the end of the day, there was no one left on the ship who wasn’t trusted. The mood had shifted from cautious and reserved to relaxed and hopeful. With all the new people on the ship and fresh supplies, dinner had been a loud and joyful event.

Creek had stayed close to Grace all evening.

Despite the good mood of the pack and crew, he’d seen worry in her eyes.

He suspected all the celebration only aggravated her worry for her sister.

Together they walked hand in hand back to the room that had become theirs.

The door slid open and the change from the first day they’d shared the room was immediately apparent.

It had been an empty room with a large bed.

Now, a lush green plant with delicate white blooms sat on the small side table.

A hairbrush he’d found in a supply room sat beside it.

On a small shelf built into the wall above the bed, a cutting from another plant stood in water in a small plastic cup Grace had brought from the med-bay.

Tiny roots had begun to sprout from the submerged half, just as she promised.

Given time, it would turn into a new plant.

It seemed a fitting symbol of their relationship.

Delicate but growing, it might become something lasting.

Time was running out. In only two days they would reach Haven.

All of Creek’s history would be dragged out to haunt him again.

Mercury would have no choice but to distance himself and his pack from him.

Their cause was important. It was one Creek wanted to fight for.

It remained to be seen if he would be forced to leave again.

This time to keep from tainting Mercury’s cause with his reputation.

He hoped he would be able to stay, to fight with them—if not standing shoulder to shoulder, then at least fighting the same battles.

Grace tugged him down to sit on the bed. She knelt behind him and helped pull his tunic over his head. She ran her hands skillfully from his shoulder down his arm, messaging muscle and easing joint pain with her warmth. Her touch was magic. His mind drifted with the pleasure.

When she shifted to his other shoulder, his thoughts sharpened on the days ahead. Would she turn away from him. He might be a fool, but he didn’t think she would. He didn’t deserve her. Nevertheless, he intended to do all he could to keep her.

“Creek,” she said softly.

“Hmm?”

“There is something I have to tell you.”

Something in her tone focused his mind and made him truly hear her. Her voice had been shaky, her breathing quicker than normal.

He seized her hand and laced their fingers together. “What is it, Butterfly?”

“Feeona told me today that Roma put out a bounty for me.”

Ah. So that’s what was troubling her. Jupiter had also told him, but he was glad Grace had decided to tell him herself. Creek pulled her into his arms. “I have no pack to protect you, but I will guard your life with all that I am.”

Her eyes blinked wide then she smiled and stroked his cheek. “Just as you’ve been doing since the day we met.” She swept a thumb over his bottom lip and lifted her face for a kiss. He could do no less than meet her halfway. She tasted like ripe berries and sweet cream.

Creek ran his hands along her toned body.

She was already starting to put on a little weight from eating better and he enjoyed her softness.

The extra fuel would also help her build muscle with their trips to the gym.

He liked seeing her confidence improve day-by-day.

He slipped his hands under her sweater, and she happily helped him remove it.

Each night they’d spent together she’d become more comfortable with his touch.

“Grace—”

“Yes,” she said, before he could finish. “Yes, I want you, my love.”

A fist squeezed his heart. He hadn’t expected to hear love words from her. Not when he hadn’t given her all of his truth. But she offered them and he would hold them tightly.

Grace lay down and smiled up at him as she shimmied out of her trousers, leaving her in barely-there undergarments. Her beauty took his breath.

Creek pressed his palm over her heart. “You have the most perfect heart I have ever known.”

She put one hand over his and the other on his chest over his heart. “It’s perfect for you and yours is perfect for me.”

Creek contemplated the darkness of a world without her in it…if the medics hadn’t saved her. Then he nodded and let the moment pass. It was hard to think of serious things when she lay nearly bare before him. He slipped his hand beneath her bra and covered one soft swell then the other.

Apparently unsatisfied with such a gentle touch she quickly released the clasp and bared her breasts for him.

Tempting fruit he was eager to taste. He bent down and flicked his tongue against her nipple as he stroked the other with his hand.

When she squirmed beneath him and moaned, he took a bigger mouthful and let his dangerous teeth press against her softness, sucking strongly.

She moaned again. A sound so sweet he had to hear it over and over until he couldn’t stand not having more of her.

Creek stood and slipped out of his clothes while she slipped out of her panties.

How could something so simple coax the simmering embers of his lust to full flame?

He settled his big body over her, careful not to crush her with his weight, but needing as much skin to skin as he could get.

She never seemed concerned by his size as other women had been.

She wrapped her arms around him as if she wanted to imprint his bigger body on hers.

He nipped carefully at her smile, coaxing her mouth open. Dipping inside, he twisted his tongue with hers. She met him eagerly, responding with her tongue and hands that stroked his body everywhere she could reach. Each touch lit sparks of magic fire that threatened to consume him.

Reaching down, he coaxed her thighs open.

When she slid her legs up and apart, cradling him against her hot core, his heart nearly stopped.

He wanted that wet heat on his cock and he hurried to align their bodies.

The anticipation was heaven. It was hell.

His balls drew tight with the need to cum.

He pulled away from her delicious mouth to throw back his head and roar out his need in an effort not to shove into her. He would go slow. He would be gentle.

The first thrust of her hips against him dismantled his good intentions.

He didn’t thrust into her, but it was a near thing.

Instead, he thrust against her, his hardness against her soft heat.

It took all his effort to wait for her pleas for more before he adjusted his hips again.

This time to push into her welcoming sheath.

He reminded himself to go slow and gentle, but his desire, and hers, was too strong a temptation and he thrust deep.

Taking care to put pressure where she needed it, he stroked again and again until she screamed his name in pleasure. Then he followed her into bliss.

***

For a few shining moments Grace lay atop Creek, feeling very satisfied with her life choices.

He’d rolled onto his back and pulled her with him.

His rough fingers were stroking up and down her back as he held her against his chest. It was probably mostly the fact that the lights were on full, but the whole world seemed brighter.

Her body felt lighter. Her mind blessedly empty.

She knew the feeling couldn’t last. The moment the haze started to clear, thoughts of her sister crept in. The bounty on her head and Creek’s worry over their upcoming arrival at Haven ate at her peace.

One of Creek’s hands found hers and he laced their fingers together. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “You’re thinking too much,” he said.

“Am I?”

“Yes,” he rumbled. “Your body has become tighter. Did I love you so poorly?”

There was humor in his tone, and she tried to be satisfied with the tease he meant it to be.

She wanted him to tell her he loved her and mean it.

It felt almost cruel to use the words as a joke.

But he didn’t know that. He would never be intentionally cruel.

It was one of many things she loved about him.

He’d made no mention of her use of the word love. She knew he’d noticed. He noticed everything she did. She wished she knew how he felt about her. He cared for her. He wanted her. But love, she wasn’t so sure.

She skimmed her thumb idly across his fingertips. The shape of the rough skin there told her he’d once had claws. She couldn’t imagine an injury that would have caused him to lose all of them.

“What happened to your claws?”

The hand stroking her back stopped and his breath caught.

She waited. Giving him the same space he would give her to sort through his feelings and memories. She understood the truth would not be a happy story, but she hoped he would trust her with it.

His body shifted beneath her as he sat up, sliding back to the headboard and pulling her into his lap.

His face was solemn. No. It would not be a happy story.

She wanted to pull a sheet around herself, but she supposed if she was asking him to be vulnerable, she should be vulnerable as well. “Tell me, Creek.”

He nodded then looked away as if he couldn’t bear to see her reaction to what he would say.

“I told you I was trained to fight alone. I was a cage fighter at a time when Roma could afford to lose many Dogs for the thrill of the patrons. Two Arena Dogs were sent into the cage. Only one would leave alive. We were trained to be vicious and bloody. It’s what the audience liked.

It was all about filling seats, encouraging patrons to wager on the fights, satisfying the crowds.

” His voice was cold and devoid of life, as if it had been someone else in the cage and not him.

When his words stopped, Grace waited. What could be worse, she wondered. For there was almost certainly something worse coming. She squeezed his hand. I’m still here , she wanted to say. But she remained silent.

He sighed but went on. “Sometimes our opponents were other Dogs trained for the cages, sometimes they were Dogs that had disappointed their master or become too dangerous. Dogs the masters wanted dead. They were not trained as well for this type of fighting, but we were told to make the fights last. The crowds still needed to be appeased and they needed time for more wagering.”

Creek finally faced her. He reached a hand toward her face but stopped before touching her. He stared at his own hand as if it was still covered in the blood of his opponents. He let it fall to the bed.

Grace wanted to take his hand and press kisses to it. She wanted to put her hand against the strong heartbeat in his chest. But most of all she wanted him to get out the poison that was making him so miserable.

Creek took another deep breath. “As our numbers declined and no more Dogs were being created, fewer cage matches were fought. It should have been a blessing.”

“But it wasn’t?”

“It wasn’t. More of the matches were to punish untrained or unruly Dogs.

More and more I had to work to keep my opponents alive longer when I could have ended things quickly with less suffering.

Eventually, I learned that I could use my claws to bloody them.

Weaken them so quickly that drawing out the fight was pointless.

The patrons didn’t want to see me fighting a Dog that could barely stand. ”

“They punished you for it.” Grace was certain. He’d looked away again. This time she cupped his cheek and brought his gaze back to hers. “You tried to be merciful, and they hated that.”

“They took my claws,” he affirmed. “Ripped them out, one by one.” His face was a blank mask.

Grace pressed her body to his and wrapped her arms around him. “Thank you for telling me. Thank you for trusting me. Thank you for living.”

His arms came around her and he held on tight.

As they sat there, tears fell from her eyes.

She felt his chest shake beneath her cheek and knew he was crying with her.

Crying for his pain and for the men he’d killed to stay alive.

Death was the only other choice he’d had.

And the Dogs living with the resistance had rejected him for his choice.

For living. But the resistance only rescued Dogs that had been believed to have died.

It was the medics who snuck them off of Roma after they’d appeared in the death rolls. So eventually…

Grace’s chest tightened. She could barely breath. With horrific certainty she knew…Creek had made a different choice…and died.