Therian Promise(3)

Scrambling to his knees, he took his weight off her as she instinctively rolled to her back. The simple movement sent a fresh wave of agony washing over her. She gasped and lights flashed before her eyes. She could barely think past the roaring in her ears.

He arched over her, hands on the ground beside her shoulder. “Don’t try to move,” he directed. “We landed really hard. Catch your breath and make sure you’re not hurt badly.” He wasn’t touching her now, but the position still felt menacing.

“Can’t. Breathe.” He reached for her and she shoved his hand away. The small rebellion sent pain ricocheting through her torso, but she couldn’t make a sound.

“I’m going to touch your side. Only your side. You might have punctured a lung or worse.” His voice was calm and firm, leaving her no room for negotiation.

Carefully keeping her arm angled over her breasts, she watched him through a haze of pain. He had the most unusual eyes, rich forest green with distinct flecks of gold. He lifted the hem of her t-shirt and slipped his hand beneath. His warm fingers touched her skin and she shivered.

“Try to hold still. I’m not going to hurt you.”

His warm fingers pushed up along her side until they rested against the bruise. He shifted position several times and gradually increased the pressure. Heat sank into her flesh, tingling then burning. The pressure suddenly released, as if he’d slit the laces of an antique corset, then she drew a cautious breath. Though a faint ache remained, she could breathe again.

“What did you do?” She took a deeper breath, amazed by the change.

“Feel better?” He smiled, drawing her attention back to his handsome face. His nose was straight, if a bit narrow. His cheekbones were high without being hollow and distinct brackets framed his mouth. He shifted position and his leather jacket creaked, the early morning breeze playing through his dark blond hair.

“I thought I’d snapped half my rib cage. I literally could not breathe.” Keeping her arm pressed against her chest, she managed to sit without moving her injured shoulder, and scooted backward until she rested against the trunk of a nearby tree.

“How bad is your arm?” A hint of challenge threaded through his even tone. “Or did you hurt your shoulder?”

“It can wait.” She glanced around. There was no obvious path through the trees, no indication of where they were or how they’d arrived. “What the hell just happened? Where are we?”

“I’m pretty sure we teleported and I have no idea where we are.” He rocked back onto his heels then stood, watching her intently. Sunlight filtered through the trees, revealing golden strands in his dark blond hair.

She stared up at him, her shoulder throbbing unmercifully. Teleportation only existed in the movies. Yeah, so did psychic healers… Her mind refused to accept his conclusion, so she returned to the basics. “Who are you?”

“Kyle Lashton. Our mothers were best friends back before you were born. We heard what Osric was planning and couldn’t allow it. I’ve come to take you home.” The emphasis he put on the word “home” assured her he hadn’t meant her house in Breckenridge.

He pulled a cell phone out of his jacket and turned in a slow circle. Apparently, he couldn’t find a signal because he slipped it back into his pocket and looked at her. “You’re obviously still in pain.” He knelt beside her again, resting his hands on his thighs. “Is it your shoulder or your arm?”

“Explain what you did to my side first.” She wasn’t sure why she didn’t want him to touch her, but he definitely made her feel…not threatened or afraid, just hyperaware. His eyes were too green and his features too appealing. And she wasn’t even going to consider how hard and strong he’d felt wrapped around her.

Before they smashed into the ground, of course.

“You feel better, don’t you? Does it matter how I did it?”

He was right. If he hadn’t touched her side, she’d still be fighting for breath or unconscious. “You’re some sort of ‘healer’?” She couldn’t believe she’d said the word. She was the sensible sister. Carissa was the one who loved sci-fi movies and paranormal fantasies. Ava liked gritty crime dramas and complicated mysteries.

One corner of his mouth quirked, but his eyes remained serious. “Call it what you like. I can take away your pain, but the energy won’t pass through anything inorganic. My skin must touch yours if you want me to heal you. And it will be a whole lot easier if I can see what I’m doing.”

“You want me to take off my shirt?”