Part 37 (2/2)

Panic slammed into Torr, knocking him to his knees. He crawled over to her, reaching out with a trembling hand to feel for a pulse.

A faint fluttering beneath his fingertips told him she was still alive, but something was definitely wrong. She wasn't even blinking.

Torr shut her eyelids so her eyes wouldn't dry out and hurt. Her skin was so soft and delicate, so warm.

He gave her a small shake and patted her cheek. Maybe she was just asleep.

”Grace,” he said, hearing his voice break. ”Wake up, honey.”

She didn't respond.

Frantic to find the reason for her state, Torr looked around the room. What the h.e.l.l had she been doing in here alone?

A case of bottled water and an unopened box of meal-replacement bars sat by her on the floor, as if she'd planned to stay here for a while. There were no books, no magazines, no TV to help her pa.s.s the time.

And she was s.h.i.+rtless, with only a sheet to cover her full b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

Torr looked over her body, searching for signs of injury. She still had on shoes and jeans, but there was no sign of blood.

He speared his fingers through her hair, feeling for any b.u.mps or cuts. Maybe she'd fallen and hit her head. That could explain her bizarre behaviora”why she'd slink off like an animal knowing it was going to die.

That image did not sit well with Torr, making him s.h.i.+ver at the thought of losing her. She'd been his lifeline. His whole world. She was the reason he still drew breath.

And he loved her so much.

”Don't you dare leave me,” he told her. ”You can't leave me nowa”not when we can have a life together. Did you see I can move again? I'm healed. I need you to help me get stronga”torture me with those ma.s.sages of yours.”

She didn't flutter an eyelash.

Torr's heart broke, splitting into jagged little pieces that made him bleed inside.

”You can't leave me. I love you, Grace.”

A fat tear slid out from the corner of her eye. She'd heard him. Somewhere inside her she was still in there.

Torr gently raised her eyelids, moving so he was right in front of her line of sight. ”You can hear me, can't you?”

He held his breath, waiting for some kind of sign, but none came.

”I know you can hear me. I need you to hold on. Help is on the way.”

He closed her eyes again and pulled her into his arms. Her limp weight was difficult for him to handle in his weakened state, but he didn't care. He needed to hold her, feel her heat and the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.

Torr slid his hands over her back, trying to comfort her. That was when he felt the hard b.u.mp on her back.

He rolled her over just as Logan came into the room. An intricately carved metal disk lay against her spine. A faint hum of vibration was coming off of it.

Torr didn't know what it was, but he knew it didn't belong there. He grabbed it, intending to pull it away, when Logan stopped him.

”Don't,” he said. ”Don't move it.”

”Why not?” asked Torr, scowling at Logan for hesitating.

”Do you know what that is?”

”No. Do you?”

Logan nodded. His pale eyes gleamed with interest. ”It's a transference device.”

”Transferring what to where?” he demanded.

”Take off your s.h.i.+rt.”

”What?”

”Do it,” demanded Logan.

Fine. Whatever got the bloodsucker moving to fix her.

Torr stripped it off, feeling it drag against something on his backa”a scar, maybe.

Logan pulled in a long breath. ”I've heard of these devices, but never seen one. It worked so well. I had no idea.”

Torr grabbed Logan's arm, pulling him down toward Grace. ”Do you know how to fix her or not?”

”I'm sorry,” said Logan. ”She made her choice.”

”What choice? Make some f.u.c.king sense, will you?” Grace's life was at stake and he was talking in riddles. If he hadn't been the only help around, Torr would have pounded him in that pretty face of his.

”This disk matches the one on your back.”

One on his . . . ?

Torr reached around awkwardly. Sure enough, there was something hard and warm sticking out of his spine in the same spot as Grace's.

”I don't know where she got them, but someone must have shown her what to do.”

A slow, insidious understanding began to rise up in Torr. ”What has she done?” he asked, barely able to get the question out. He wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.

”She's given you her health. She's transferred your affliction onto herself, healing you.”

No. This could not be happening. His sweet Grace could not be paralyzed. ”You're wrong. If she'd done that, she'd be able to talk. I was.”

”She's not a Theronai. Her human body isn't as strong as yours. The poison will be harder on her than it was on you.”

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