Trapped (The Condemned Series #1) - Alison Aimes Page 0,33

Winthrop was more than she could handle right then. And Convict’s plan was a good one. “Do…do we need to bury the bodies?”

He shook his head. “Dragath25 will take care of that. By morning, there’ll be no evidence left to find.”

Another shudder ran through her. Convict was right. This planet really was a hellhole. She couldn’t believe he’d survived so long.

Finally, they reached the spot where he’d told her to wait. His pack was still there.

“Stop a minute,” he said. “I want to check your injuries.”

“I’m fine.”

A muscle twitched in his jaw. “Do it anyway.”

On a low sigh, she stood still, tilting her head up so he could see her neck. She wasn’t even sure why she was resisting. Acknowledging the bruises wouldn’t make it any more real. She already knew she’d almost been raped. It was a solemn reminder of just how badly things could have gone for her with Convict if he were a different man.

Callused fingers pressed gently against her neck, an almost caress. “Fucking bastard.” Unlike his touch, Convict’s words were a sharp, dangerous growl. “Does it hurt a lot?”

“Not so much anymore.” Actually, with him touching her, it felt pretty damn good.

He bent down and reached into his pack. The loss of his warmth sent a chill spiraling through her.

“Let me see those palms.” He’d tucked a dark grey bottle under his arm.

She held out her hands without hesitation.

Now that he’d begun, she was ashamed to say she was enjoying it. She couldn’t think of the last time someone had taken care of her like this. As the eldest, it had always been up to her to do the care taking.

Convict leaned over to examine her hands, his breath a warm caress against her neck. “There are some bad scratches.” His touch was light, but firm as he rubbed a clear substance into her palms. It tingled, but didn’t sting, and had the faint odor of flowers.

“What is that?” Her words were a bit slurred. Between the draining of her adrenaline and the rhythmic steady touch of his warm hands, she was being lulled into a very relaxed state.

He shrugged. “Doesn’t have a name. I discovered it by accident. If you cut the leaves of a long spiky plant that grows in the Oasis, this stuff oozes out. It’s great for healing cuts and preventing infections.”

“You really are amazing.”

His hand stilled. “I think you might be in shock.”

She stared in stunned silence. “Did you just make a joke?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” His lips tilted up in an almost half-smile. “It’s been a while.”

She smiled back, an answering giddy grin in celebration of survival. Of the fact that she and Convict were still alive. That they were here with one another in spite of everything Dragath25 kept throwing at them.

The surge of relief lasted all of five seconds.

Her grin crumpled. A sob escaped. The roiling emotions inside swinging back the other direction. She couldn’t stand it another minute. She needed to feel his strength. Wipe away the horror of her attack. “Will you hold me? Please.”

Without hesitation, his arms closed around her, the bottle under his arm dropping to the ground.

“It’s okay, Bella.” He hauled her close, his chin resting on the top of her head, her body cradled against his solid chest as she’d been craving all along. “You’re safe.”

Full on crying now, she wrapped her arms around him, too, curling into his strength, inhaling deeply. Letting the smell of him—of security and power and warm male—seep into her bones and soothe. “These past few days have been a lot to take in.” She felt the need to try and explain.

“I know.” The steady, soothing caress of his palm continued up and down her back. “I’ve seen grown men cry like a baby upon arrival. You’re tougher than any of them.”

She hid a shaky smile. Who knew her convict could be so sweet?

“I’m sorry I didn’t stay where you said.” She whispered the words to his chest. “I know how badly you must want to yell at me about that and I appreciate you holding off.”

His hand stilled. “We’ll have to talk about it some time.”

“Just not right now.”

“Agreed.” His hands resumed their slow glide. And with every gentle pass of his hand, a little bit more of herself returned. She’d had a scare, yes. But she was fine. She was better than fine, in fact. She was alive. Safe. In the arms of a man who’d stood up for her as no one had