Rogue's Passion(14)

Ding ding ding. And the winner by TKO is—
“Whoa,” he said, holding up a palm. “You need to relax.”
She choked out a bitter laugh. Few things pissed her off more than someone who told her to relax. It was condescending and rude. Other than her gynecologist or a masseuse, no one else had the right to say that, otherwise they got lumped into the category of Total Asshole. And right now, this guy was at the top of the pile.
“I don’t appreciate being called stupid.”
He looked confused and took a step backward. She wasn’t expecting that.
“I didn’t.”
“Oh really?”
“But I apologize for giving you that impression.”
She exhaled and slowly unclenched her fists. She wasn’t expecting that reaction from him, either. It was possible she’d spent too much time recently in a world where insults and intimidation were the fuel you needed to beat the crap out of someone. Maybe she’d heard him wrong and overreacted.
He cast a furtive glance behind him. “You do need to heal me, however. How long is it going to take?”
How long?
Another injured man had asked her the same question in the makeshift training room of an underground fight club. They hadn’t known she was a Healer-Talent and just assumed she was going to apply a few bandages. Why she’d let David drag her there in the first place was beyond her, because they’d only dated a few times. But he was charming, had money, and she was an idiot.
David hadn’t wanted to spend the money to hire a trained cutman, so when his best fighter split open his eyebrow in the locker room five minutes before the main event, Olivia had idiotically offered to help. The compulsion to heal every little injury was something she’d learned to control, but when the injured fighter told her he’d been thinking of joining the army in order to provide for his family, that was the last straw. She should’ve fought the urge to heal him, but she didn’t, and then David put two and two together.
You’re working for me, sugar, and if you refuse, I’m sure the army will be very interested to hear about an unregistered Healer-Talent.
It had taken her a month to set up a new identity, but as soon as she had, she’d left and never looked back.
“Come on,” Asher said, jolting her away from her thoughts. “What are you waiting for?” He stared at her with that penetrating, astute gaze he’d used on her before. There was no way she was going to get around him. He was ready for her this time.
Her shoulders slumped in defeat. “I…I can’t. At least not right away. Healing that woman took too much of my energy. I don’t have much left.”
His gaze ran over her body. “I’m guessing you have enough.”
Enough for him, maybe, but it’d leave her with nothing. She’d be stuck until her energy levels built back up enough for her to walk out, but who knew if she had the time? “And if I refuse?”
He didn’t even hesitate. “Then I’m telling the authorities I saw you bring a woman back from the dead.”
It felt as if she’d been slapped. “You can’t,” she choked.
“I can and I will unless you help me.”
Her blood ran ice cold. Just like David, this guy was going to use her to get what he wanted. Fine. It wasn’t as if she had much choice. She’d do what he wanted and when it was over, she’d pray that no one came for her before she could run again. “I won’t be able to heal you completely.”
“I need to walk out under my own power. That’s all I’m asking.”
She slipped on her jean jacket and slung the strap of her messenger bag over her head to free her hands. She must’ve moved too quickly because the room started spinning. Healing another human so soon was going to be hard work, she thought, placing a palm on the wall to steady herself.#p#分页标题#e#
In a flash, a strong, muscular arm was around her waist, steadying her. “What the hell?” His breath was warm on her cheek.
“Did you think I was lying?” she asked. “That woman was in really bad shape. She was almost dead, so it took everything I had to bring her back. Healing energy is finite and needs to be replenished. I don’t have an unlimited power source.” She tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but he held her tight.
“Stop all your movin’ around, lass,” he said, a shadow of pain darkening his features. “You’re killing me.”
Since when had she given him permission to give her a nickname? To her surprise, though, she didn’t hate it. It reminded her of something a conquering Scottish hero would say.
The side of his muscular body pressed into her. God, he smelled fantastic. Not perfumey or cologne-ish, but rugged, working-man good. Along with the touch of alcohol on his breath, she detected soot and ash, motor oil, soap, and a subtle yet musky, all-male scent. She started to take another long inhale of him.