Warrior's Wife Read Online Free PDF Page B

tucked her head against her knees and took shallow breaths to avoid losing the little food still in her belly. Aside from the thud of fist or boot hitting armored flesh, the occasional grunt, and the drag of harsh breaths, the battle was nearly silent.
    As long as she didn’t look, didn’t inhale the sweat or blood she might’ve been alone. Shivers from fear and exhaustion made her clamp her teeth to keep them from chattering. She’d done what she could to help. At least she’d paid Galahad back for his shirt, by tackling the alien. She prayed the good guys won and not just because they’d probably let her fill the Humvee’s tank and gas cans.
    Now she totally got what the first set of aliens had wanted and she didn’t have the courage to face the metal monsters again. She needed to get gone.
    Her bad leg throbbed. She lifted her head and searched what she was able to scan of the tent. Her cane was nowhere in sight. She’d last seen it back by her camp. A mile made a long walk with abused muscles already cramping.
    Two of the combatants spun past, narrowly missing her in a whirl of impossibly fast kicks and punches. Huge and fully armored, both males grappled, seeking a weakness. Their weapons appeared to be useless without at least a small gap in their shielding. How incredibly lucky she’d been to find that small weakness, where the chest piece connected to the groin section, with her first knife strike.
    Although she’d spent eight years in the army, she’d served as a nurse—not a warrior. No matter what the aliens thought, she wanted no role in their war, especially not as some kind of prize for the victors.
    Gratitude to Galahad for saving her and for the shirt didn’t extend to servitude or becoming his pet. What else would she be to him—to any of them?
    Gorgeous as he looked beneath his metal shell, he wasn’t exactly human. None of them were. Ordinary men didn’t move that fast, absorb such punishing blows and deliver equally devastating strikes. Everything about Galahad, his kindness, charm, honeyed voice, strong body and handsome face, made her want to trust him. She fought to remember he was every bit as alien as the tanker boys and she had no idea what he wanted from her.
    Covered by their protective shells, any differences between the fighters in either their gear or size were lost on her. Unable to tell whom to root for, she stayed pressed hard against the tent and waited for a chance to escape.
    * * * * *
     
    The second the fight ended, Horace gathered the droid pet and hurried to Tori’s side. When she edged away from him, he flinched mentally as if he’d been zapped with a penalty stick. However, she had no way of knowing she was the triad’s destined mate. He halted, flipped up his face shield, crouched and set the artificial dog down within easy reach.
    She teetered, caught her balance, bent and scooped up the pet. “His name is Rufus.”
    “Do you want me to activate it?”
    “Him.” One side of her cut and swollen mouth quirked as if she fought an urge to smile. “Please.” She stooped and put the animal an arm’s length in front of her. Then she nudged the droid toward him before she carefully straightened.
    Horace picked up the pet, flipped its on switch and offered her the fake dog again.
    Her arms shook as she reached for the droid.
    He was dying to enfold her in his arms and declare his endless devotion, but realizing even a gentle hug would aggravate her injuries and she might not be ready to hear how much he loved her, he forced himself to take a step back.
    Tori raised the small body close to her face and nuzzled the furry neck. “I should have guessed you were a ringer. You smell way better than any real dog.” Then she lowered her voice. “Don’t worry, I still like you.”
    The droid wagged its tail and Horace puzzled over the meaning of ringer, deciding it must be a slang term for imitation or fake. A simple droid had no capacity to worry, but she wouldn’t