Page 5 of Healing Creek (Arena Dogs #3)

He wasn’t certain what a conference was, but he thought he got the gist. “They captured only you from this gathering?” He didn’t like questioning her, but he had no reason to trust her and life, even when he’d been free, had taught him wariness.

“Just me.” Her narrow eyebrows drew together. “At least, I didn’t see anyone else.”

He put a finger under her chin and lifted her gaze to his. “Why did they take you ?” He emphasized the final word to be clear.

“Maybe to hold me for ransom. My family has…wealth.” Her tone was pleading, but what did she want from him? His belief in her words?

Ransom. It was a word he’d never heard before being freed from Roma. It meant credits paid for her safe return.

“I know,” she said. “Why take me instead of my brother?” She sighed. “He wasn’t stupid enough to wander around alone.”

Creek could read in her words that Grace believed herself less valuable than her kin. Something niggled at his thoughts. Ransom meant someone would pay to free her. Then why was she still here?

“How long have you been here? Alone?”

Her eyelids lowered as if she could shut out the reality of her circumstances. “It’s been hard to mark time, but a few weeks, I think.” She shivered as she spoke.

“You’re cold.” Or more likely afraid, since her hand had been warm. Either way, more warmth would help. He looked around the room and suddenly it seemed smaller, less luxurious. There was nothing in the room. No clutter. No food containers. Only a single pair of boots at the side of the bed.

He had a sudden need to feed her and keep her safe. He grabbed a blanket from the bed and wrapped it around her. The movement brought her in close, but it also sent a fresh wave of brutal pain through his back and hip. He couldn’t hide the stiffness that came from trying to avoid further pain.

“Th-thanks.” Her whisper caressed his bare skin. “Will it take long, for the person…the woman…to come?”

“I—”

The floor tilted…and lurched.

Grace stumbled and Creek reached out to keep her upright. In the hallway, the small man fell to the floor with a crash of limbs.

“Alert. Life support failure in this section. Please proceed to an adjacent section.” The ship’s artificial voice repeated the announcement.

Damn. The woman was going nowhere with that collar around her neck. “Hold on to the bedframe and stay,” he ordered then stomped to the hallway. He shouted over the ship’s alert. “What’s happening?”

Knock, who’d been monitoring his sweep of the ship, replied, “Several tricksy crew members made it to engineering and are playing havoc with the ship’s systems. We’re working on it, but you need to get out of the ship’s perimeter sections and head to the central core, pronto.”

Creek glanced at Grace. Her sapphire eyes gleamed wide and frightened. “There is a prisoner here who can’t be moved.”

“Roger that. We’ll do our best, but don’t take chances, man. Get yourself and your team out of there. I’ll light the best route back to the core for you.”

With Knock’s words the lights at one end of the hallway shut off, leaving only one direction lit.

“Decompression Warning.” This section may become unstable. Please proceed to an adjacent section.

The Dreat, already a good way down the corridor, looked back to him. He waved them on and helped the human male to his feet. “Go.” At the single word, the male took off down the corridor.

The ship lurched again under Creek’s feet.

He glanced at Grace. She sat on the floor, one arm wrapped around her knees, the other hand still holding tight to the bedframe.

The storage doors built into the wall of her cabin hung open.

Luckily, the storage had been empty. His gaze flicked to the hallway again.

Debris had tumbled into it from somewhere.

His gaze settled back on Grace, sitting alone on the floor.

She could easily be jerked free from her death grasp on the bed and end up with a broken neck or worse, tumbled into the hallway where the collar might explode.

Even if she remained in the room, with no life support and decompression a possibility, she could be asphyxiated.

His kind needed less oxygen than humans. His strength was greater.

Creek raised his voice to be heard over the ship’s repeated warnings. “I’m staying with the prisoner.”

“Not a good plan, pal,” Knock warned.

Creek said nothing as the power in the corridor flashed off and on.

“Okay. Okay,” said Knock. “There’s an emergency supply cabinet twenty yards towards the core—”

The power failed, taking the lights with it.

Grace gasped in the dark.

Knock’s voice was gone and no further warning came from the speakers overhead.

Creek saw well in dim light, but the pitch black was a problem.

Far down the hall an emergency light flickered on.

He bolted, running for the supplies. He looked for red lettering or markings and he knew how to read basic human writings.

They were easy to find. He pulled out the breathers, four of them, and left the first aid kit behind.

He found Grace where he’d last seen her and sat down on the floor next to her. He handed her the bag of breathers. “Only when you need them.” Breathers didn’t last long.

She looked up at him, tears welled in her eyes. “You came b-back. You sh-shouldn’t be here. There’s s-still time. Go, please.” Her whole body shook.

Creek sighed. It seemed simple. Her odds of survival were better with him there. He would stay. He wedged himself between the bed frame and the side wall and snugged her up against him. He wrapped his arm around her. “I remain here. I won’t leave you.”

“Th-thank you.” Her whisper caressed his bare skin and her cookie scent so close made his gut clench. Her breaths came in rapid succession.

“Slow your breathing.” He pulled her across his lap and widened his legs, so she sat between them with her back to his chest. Her fragile frame weighed nothing.

He gently took her hand and brought it to her chest. With his hand over hers, he breathed.

He moved his body with each breath so she could feel him.

Slowly her spine softened, and she relaxed back against him.

Together they breathed until her rhythm matched his.

Her lean body was a warm balm all along his, and breathing with her connected them in some elemental way. She was the first woman he’d touched so intimately in a very long time.

The ship lurched again, and he held her securely.

In the dim light they sat, breathing, and waiting.

The ship groaned softly in the pregnant nothing, then a vibration rolled through its frame.

A loud suction-like woosh nearly pulled them from the floor.

The cabinet doors banged and their hinges squeaked as if straining to break apart.

Grace wrapped her free hand around his arm and buried her face in the small space between his bicep and his chest. Things big and small flew past in the hall, moment after moment…

Then everything stopped.

It hadn’t been a full decompression, but the air had thinned. Still pressed up against him, Grace took labored breaths.

“Do you need a breather?”

“No.” She shook her head against his chest. Slowly she eased back, loosening her grip on him, and he let her go.

Her eyes locked on his face in the dim light.

Her breathing had slowed, but her eyes were glassy and unfocused.

She needed oxygen. The air had become very thin.

He should have told her to use them earlier.

The power flickered back on. They both blinked at the change.

From the hall they heard Knock. “Alrighty folks. Shout out to let us know you’re okay.”

“We’re here,” Creek boomed.

“Systems are secure and life support should be back on…now.”

Grace took two deep breaths.

Knock’s irreverent voice came back over the speakers. “Be down to help you with that collar in a jiffy.”