Page 38 of Dark Rival

Allie ran.

IT WAS A ROCKSLIDE. Allie stumbled into the village, a collection of thatch and wattle huts, and saw the mound of rocks. Royce and Aidan were throwing boulders aside with their superhuman power. A dozen other men were helping, and no one seemed to care about the Masters’ exceptional strength. A big woman stood weeping, two small girls holding on to her skirts. The entire village was probably present, perhaps two dozen men, women and children having gathered about the slide.

Allie ran forward, ignoring the sharp pain that every step caused her. Her experience of being barefoot was on the beach or at a picnic on a manicured lawn or while at the Korean pedicurist.

Royce straightened and looked over his shoulder at her. His gaze went wide with disbelief.

Allie ran to the pile of rocks and knelt there. And she felt that the boy—it was a boy, perhaps fifteen—was now unconscious. She poured her white light on him.

Royce started tossing more rocks and boulders aside.

Allie was vaguely aware of him and the other men. There was almost no air left and there was so much blood. She pushed more white light through the rockslide onto the boy, into him, healing his broken bones and crushed chest.

“I have a hand,” Aidan said sharply.

Royce and Aidan redoubled their efforts.

Allie redoubled hers.

Suddenly Royce bent over her. “Can ye move for a moment?” he asked.

She nodded, stepping back, but she kept her light flowing over the boy, who was about to become exposed.

They tore at more rocks and his dirt-encrusted, bleeding face was revealed. Then she saw his shoulders, arms and chest. The woman screamed. “Is he alive? Does my Garret live?”

Allie scrambled to him. She held his young face in her hands and showered him with more white light. His eyelids lifted. His fingers moved. His gaze met hers.

She reached deep. The ribs were healed, but the lungs were sore and straining. She covered his chest. And she felt them begin to pump, at first faintly, then more distinctly. She saw his chest rising and falling now in a normal pattern. He would live. His pain finally vanished. She closed her eyes, filled with relief.

Royce laid his hand on her shoulder.

It crossed her mind that he was standing over her while she healed, a powerful guardian, and it was right. She smiled, eyes still closed.

“Garret!” the woman cried, kneeling beside Allie and seizing her son’s hands.

Allie opened her eyes as Garret muttered and began to sit up.

“Yer alive!” The woman wept.

Garret sat up, seeming dazed but otherwise unhurt. Allie felt Royce’s hands on both her shoulders now. His grasp was warm, strong, impossibly reassuring. She twisted to look up at him and she smiled.

His gaze was unwavering, searching, and then his mouth softened. He slid his hands to her waist and lifted her to her feet. Allie turned so she was in his arms. She reached up, clasped his huge shoulders and laid her face on his chest. His tunic was soaking wet.

She smiled again. The sexiest man in the world, she thought. Desire began.

She had just saved an innocent life and her blood started to pump. Yeah. It felt good.

“Are ye weak?” he asked roughly.

“Give me a moment,” she murmured, not wanting to move. She didn’t care that he was covered in sweat. His sweat was sexy and exciting. He was sexy and exciting. In fact, she felt his manhood full and throbbing between them, but that was right, too.

“Mum, I couldn’t breathe!”

Allie lifted her cheek so she could smile at Royce, but this time, with promise. She needed him now, as soon as they got back to Carrick. She’d never had a man with her when she’d healed, much less one like this one. She’d given back life and now, she wanted to take something from him—pleasure.

He tensed. His eyes turned silver.

There was always a feeling of euphoria after a healing. Royce was going to make it a million times better.