Wounds - Book 2 Read Online Free PDF Page A

That was all right.
    In the end, Saad spoke first. “Rain coming.”
    She roused herself as if from a trance. “How do you know?”
    “I smell it.”
    “I don’t smell anything.”
    “You have to be here awhile to know. And the clouds have been heavier these last few days. So, maybe, a week. Two at the most.” He paused. “I’ll be gone in a day or two.”
    “All right,” she said for want of anything else to say. “Where are you going?”
    “I am following up on some…intelligence.”
    Whatever that meant. “Okay.”
    “Elizabeth…”
    “Yes?”
    “If things were easier for you, do you think you’d stop hating this place so much?”
    “Easier how?”
    “Supplies. Equipment.”
    “Well, yeah, that would make my job easier. But I don’t know about the rest.”
    “Staying here, you mean.” He waited a beat. “With us.”
    Or do you mean, with you? She was surprised that this pleased her, very much. “I already said I don’t walk away. But are you giving me a choice?” Saad’s face was shadow, and the gathering twilight threw blades of darkness over his hard, lean features. “Am I free to go?”
    “If you want. I won’t stop you.”
    She was so stunned, she almost blurted it out: And go where, exactly? Instead, she said, “Do you want me to leave?”
    “No. I can’t promise I can make things better. I’d like to try. But I need time.”
    “What are you going to do?”
    “I need time,” he said again.
    Her gaze flicked to the horizon behind his shoulder. She couldn’t see any stars, but maybe it wasn’t dark enough yet. “Okay. Then we’ve got a deal.”
    “Good,” he said. Then she felt his hands close over hers. She started. “Relax,” he said. “I brought something for you.”
    Her fingers closed around something rough and very cool. Moist. The mug. “Thank you,” she said, mystified. Well, she was thirsty. But this water seemed…different somehow. It smelled clean. So different from what they called water here: triple filtered but still gray as ash and with a chemical smell.
    He must have intuited her bewilderment because he said, “When people bind themselves in a relationship…”
    “Relationship?”
    “Or a partnership, a friendship, whatever you want to call it. It doesn’t have to be romantic.”
    “Of course not,” she said, feeling like a complete jackass. Then, wondering why she felt so let down. You idiot, this is one of those alien culture things. “So you bind yourselves…?”
    “With a gift of something valuable.”
    “Water.”
    “A very precious commodity here; this is from someplace deep in the mountains. If you want, I’ll take you there. Bathing is quite refreshing.”
    “Ah,” she said. “Well, thank you. But what are we promising?”
    “Not you. Me. A month ago, I gave you back your life. You’ve kept your promise. You work hard. I admire that.”
    “Could be ego,” she drawled. “Could be I’m stupid.”
    “Well, then I applaud your blind egotism.” The glint of a smile. “As you said, doctors are narcissistic. But it seems only fair that I try to level things a bit.”
    “But what—?”
    “Give me time.” He cupped her hands with his, a touch that made her pulse stutter. “Now we seal the bargain.”
    “Okay.” There was a startling, wild heat in her thighs, her skin. She was a little out of breath, too, and not from bad air.
    He drank first. Then it was her turn. She inhaled that deep fragrance of still green forests and misted ponds, and her heart hurt with longing. She closed her eyes; she drank. The water was very cold and made her teeth ache and tasted very good. She drank it all down. Then she lowered the mug. His hands still cupped hers. “It’s all gone,” she said.
    “No,” he said, and then she felt his hand on her cheek, and then his fingers skim her chin, linger over the bounding pulse in her neck. “No, it isn’t,” he said, and then his mouth closed over hers.
    Lense felt some knot deep inside loosen