Free Sarah McCarty by Slade

faint.”
    “Good.” She flashed the light toward the box. “You need to get over there.”
    He straightened. “No problem.”
    Looking at how he weaved, she had her doubts. More beams propagated in the dark interior.
    He straightened and swayed. “I’ll be better by nightfall.”
    “You’re delusional.”
    “No, I regenerate.”
    She paused, excitement flaring. That was intriguing. “Really?”
    He cracked an eyelid. “I should have known that would get your blood pumping.”
    “It’s not—”
    “I can hear it, Jane.”
    How was she supposed to respond to that? “Sorry.”
    Tiny white lines fanned out from the edges of his lips. He took a step forward. “Don’t be sorry. I’m probably one of the few people able to understand your reaction.”
    Using the side of the SUV to steady himself, Slade took another step. Jane couldn’t stand it as he wavered. Whatever was wrong, he was definitely on his last legs. She wrapped her arm around his rock-hard waist.
    “That’s not necessary.”
    “If you knew me as well as you think you do, you’d get that it’s totally necessary.”
    His arm came down across her shoulders. A heavy, surprisingly comforting weight. “I guess you’re right.”
    Jane had been humored enough in her professional life to recognize when it was happening. Slade was definitely humoring her as he gave her just enough of his weight to make her feel useful, but not enough to strain her back. It was a surprisingly sweet thing to do. They reached the end of the hood. The last fifteen feet, they were going to have to do on their own. She bit her lip.
    “Slade?”
    His finger brushed her cheek, almost as if he knew her worry. “What?”
    “If you make it to the box, I’ll let you kiss me.”
    “Deal.”
    She wondered if he was smiling. She wondered how much he was hurting. She wondered if they were both going to see the night. “Ready for the last few steps?”
    “Not really.”
    “Let’s pretend.”
    “You do an awful lot of pretending.”
    “I learned young.”
    “Learned how to pretend?”
    “No, learned that it helps.”
    “With what?”
    “Dealing.”
    He let go of the hood. The first step was solid, the second shaky. The third sent them tumbling. Slade spun them around, taking the brunt of the impact. The flashlight beam sliced through the murk and dust motes, revealing the rusted tin roof. Her breath woofed out as she landed on top of him. She was vividly aware of every plane, every hard muscle of his lean form. She looked down at his hand, pressed over her stomach. The skin on the back was split and oozing. Her stomach rose. Oh God . “I’m going to be sick.”
    He didn’t let her go, didn’t move, just breathed slowly and steadily as his fingers spread across her abdomen. Her stomach roiled some more.
    “Let me go.”
    “No.”
    Something touched the edges of her mind. A soothing warmth that fanned inward along her bloodstream. His fingers splayed further, his cuts oozed more.
    “Look away.”
    “It’s not going to help.”
    “Humor me.”
    She did. The warmth spread, drawing her attention inward, toward the comfort of that heat. The nausea abated. She let out a breath.
    “Better?” he asked.
    “Yes.”
    Leaning back against him, she gave him her weight, letting him hold her for a second. Just one second. He didn’t even flinch, just took it as if it were his right. “I’ve got you, sweetness.”
    That “sweetness” ruined everything. Jane slid to the side, which was as far as he would let her go. Sunlight touched her toe. She turned and grabbed his hand. “You need to stand up, now.”
    “I’m working on it.”
    She tugged. He didn’t move. “Why are you so weak?”
    “I used a lot of energy levitating the car and feeding power to the engine while masking our presence.”
    She blinked. He’d done all that? He could do all that?
    “Add to that the fact that I’m naturally sluggish during daytime, and my body’s efforts to heal the burns...”