Page 6 of Healing Creek (Arena Dogs #3)

Chapter Three

Grace surveyed the room and took stock of herself.

The mattress had fallen off the bedframe, but she was fine…

thanks to Creek. Slowly he got to his feet and reached out a hand for her.

She took it and he pulled her up. It put her back in the vicinity of his warmth.

Her belly tingled and she yearned to move forward into his embrace.

Where did that come from? She barely knew her rescuer.

Creek stepped back. He moved around the bed to lift the mattress back into position. He was an Arena Dog. To her he was like a mythological creature. She’d never expected to meet one in her sheltered life. But in the last year, thanks to her sister’s research, she’d learned a lot about his kind.

They were incredibly strong, they healed quickly, and they almost never got ill.

But he was also just a man. The man that had touched her so gently and risked his life to protect her.

And his movements were stiff and pained.

She wanted to help but didn’t think she could do more without exposing her own abilities.

“Grace?” She’d been staring like a fool. She was drawn to him like a satellite to a planet—unable to move away, unable to move closer. Her name on his lips tugged at her. Her fear of…everything…kept her in place.

“Here I am, to save the day!” A man with a narrow face and bleached white hair that stood up in spikes waltzed into the room.

Creek’s spine snapped straight and his ears flattened back against his head. He growled and the man came to a sudden stop, throwing his hands in the air.

“Whoa! It’s me, Knock. Remember?” The man backpedaled to the doorway.

Creek tilted his head and studied the man. “Why are you here?”

“Here to help, buddy. Mercury sent me to help the lady get out of her collar.” He indicated Grace with a wave of his still raised hand.

“Where’s Feeona?” Creek growled.

“She’s laid up in the med-bay with a bad shoulder.

” Slowly, Knock lowered his hands. “Look, man. I don’t have a neural implant like her, but I can handle this.

” He strolled closer to Grace and tsked.

“I am so glad that slaver bastard is dead. What has he done to you? Look at the size of that hunk of metal he’s got on you. ”

Grace flinched at the news that Morgan was dead. Not that she had any sympathy for the criminal, but death was not a part of her world. And what would his death mean for her sister?

As Knock approached, Creek backed away. Selfishly, she wanted him to stay. Her fingers tapped compulsively against the top of her thigh; a tic she’d had her whole life—one of many small defects that marked her as flawed.

The other nine of her siblings had been born perfect, according to their parents’ design.

Only she’d been born imperfect. So many defects.

Her parents had been determined to love her equally, but she knew she would always be a failure in their eyes.

Still, they would have paid a ransom for her.

If not for a parent’s love, then for the biological secret she carried in her blood.

But these men couldn’t know that. Only her family knew.

She suspected Creek had once been perfect. Now he wore the harshness of his life like a map made up of scars and old injuries. Her heart broke for him. He might no longer be perfect, but he was still magnificent.

His face looked different than an ordinary human’s. Broader cheek bones tapered to a mouth that sat forward from his eyes. His wolflike ears moved and flexed like a predator searching for prey. His smooth bronze skin wrapped a powerful body.

Knock put a knee on the bed behind her. “Turn a little so I can get at this lock.”

As his hands brushed casually against her neck, Grace cringed away, and her stomach dropped.

How many times had Morgan told her tampering with the collar would separate her head from her body?

And unlike the man who’d tried to release her earlier, these people were good.

No longer controlled by Roma. Not worthy of being blown up alongside her.

“It isn’t safe.” Her lips trembled. She wanted to be free of the thing, but she didn’t want anyone else to be injured.

If the man called Ghost hadn’t been able to open the lock, how could this one?

She squeezed her eyes shut as if that would keep her fear deep inside.

She’d already made such a mess of things.

She couldn’t stand the thought of being responsible for any harm coming to them.

Her fingers tapped quicker against her leg.

Knock’s hands slipped away. “This is a seriously tricky lock.”

Her eyes shot open and she twisted to meet his gaze.

“Lucky for you, beautiful…” he chuckled and pulled a small object from a hidden pocket in his slim-fitting trousers. “I have Morgan’s code-key. We’ve got pretty good odds that it’ll open this.” He held it up with a flourish.

Creek growled. “Then I’ll do it.” He moved toward them in his not quite graceful gait and snatched the thing from Knock’s grasp.

Knock stepped back and made a mockery of a bow. “Be my guest. But, uh, don’t force it. If it doesn’t open right away, stop.” He retreated to the doorway as he spoke. “I’ll just be in the hall.”

“Creek, you don’t have to do this. I can do it myself.

” At least she thought she could. The overlarge collar might make it difficult for her to position the code-key, but she’d rather struggle with it than risk his life with hers.

Her heart pounded heavy in her tight chest. She could barely breathe.

“Don’t fear,” he rumbled. “I told you I wouldn’t leave you.” He held her gaze as he spoke and he seemed to be saying something more. Or was that her loneliness speaking?

Her tapping fingers stilled, and a warm touch slipped along her wrist as Creek brushed his hand against hers. She turned her palm into his and tightened her fingers on his much larger ones. It was then she noticed the tips of his fingers were heavily scarred. What had they done to him?

“I don’t want to put you…” she stumbled on the word. “Any of you, in danger.”

She couldn’t drag her eyes away from Creek.

Skin slicked with oil, heavy muscles on display, face that didn’t seem to know how to smile—Creek made her want to trace every scar across his body.

Many of them ran in parallel groups. Claws.

Had he been forced to fight animals? Large predators?

Or others of his own kind? One scar ran across his nose and close to his eye. He’d come close to being blinded.

More than any obvious scar, she could see the pain of injuries old and new weighing down his every movement.

She should send him out of the room to safety, but she couldn’t make herself release his hand. She was just another selfish, entitled human using him if she allowed him to risk—

A snick sounded behind her. Paralyzed by her thoughts, she hadn’t noticed his free hand reaching for the lock. Before she could react, Creek released her and caught the heavy weight of the collar as it fell loose from her shoulders.

Air rushed into her lungs. Relief zipped through her, a too-brief moment of euphoria before the weight of her true situation hit her. Her sister was still a prisoner, and as long as the man called Ghost was out there watching her every move, so was she.

She considered telling Creek about Ghost, but he might not believe her and if he did, he might only be interested in hunting the man down.

Why should Creek care what happened to her sister?

And if Ghost learned she’d told, he might get out a message before they could stop him.

Would Roma really punish her sister when they needed Jennifer to do their research? God, it was so confusing.

The only thing she knew was that she could not risk her sister’s life.

“Well done!” Knock slow clapped from the hallway. “Now that is out of the way, I can take you to Mercury. Then we can work on getting you safely home.”

At the mention of home, anxiety ran through her like electricity through a live wire. Of course, she wanted to go home. Her family must be so worried. But she wasn’t going until Jennifer was safe.

“I’ll take her.” Creek’s voice rumbled under his words. “If Feeona is in medical, there must be much you should be doing.”

“So true. I’m indispensable.” Knock placed one hand over his heart and, with laughter on his face, he put the other hand out for the code-key.

Creek turned to place the key in the man’s hand. Grace stared at his broad back as he paced away from her. Deep purple bruising wrapped in a wide swath from the center of his lower back to one hip. “Oh, Creek!”

He jerked back to face her and when he did, he swayed on his feet.

She strode forward and reached out to balance him. He sucked in a breath then relaxed into her touch. “This could be a serious injury. You need to be in the med-bay.”

Knock said, “Arena Dogs heal pretty fast.”

“I know that,” she snapped. “But this isn’t healing. This color means he’s still bleeding.” Keeping her steadying hands in place, she looked up into Creek’s face. “How long ago did this happen?”

“A few hours.”

She put on her sternest face. “Med-bay.”

His face turned even grimmer, but he nodded.

Grace dug through the bedding on the floor to locate her boots and slipped into them. She met Knock’s gaze across the room. “Lead the way.”

He shrugged. “Sure. No problem.”

Grace wrapped an arm around Creek’s waist, hoping he would put some of his weight on her, but of course he didn’t. At least she’d be able to steady him if he lost his balance again.