Free Kindling Flames—Gathering Tinder by Julie Wetzel Page A

She swallowed, trying to soothe her sore throat.
    Concern crossed Darien’s face at how crackly her voice was. He was worried he had missed something important when he reconstructed her windpipe. “He’s left and won’t bother you again,” Darien reassured her. “Let me have a look at your throat.”
    Vicky nodded lightly and tilted her head back, exposing the injury.
    Placing his right hand behind her head to support her, he wrapped his left across the bruised skin of her neck, and pushed a bare hint of power into the damaged area, searching for the problem. Finding a split in the cartilage around her vocal cords, he snapped it back into place where it belonged. He could have healed her completely, but that would lead to some very hard questions that he didn’t want to answer.
    Vicky was in too much pain to disagree with her boss’s invasion of her personal space. His hands felt good on the soreness of her neck. They were unusually warm, and the heat penetrated deep into her throat, soothing the hurt. She closed her eyes and relaxed as she let him feel her throat. A quick, sharp pain brought a cry from her lips, and she nearly passed out from the intensity of it. The only things that had kept her from collapsing to the cushions were the hands on her neck. Vicky panted as black spots danced behind her eyes. She felt Darien shift her so that she was lying down on the couch again.
    “Rest here for a little longer,” he said softly.
    Vicky nodded without opening her eyes. She didn’t feel as if she could get up at the moment, anyway.
    He fluffed the blanket back over her and went to find her something to drink. Even though he had sped the healing process along, Vicky would need rest to allow the tissue to knit properly.
    ***
    Vicky woke up to the more familiar ceiling of Darien’s office. Her throat felt better, so she sat up slowly and looked around the dimly lit room.
    Darien was using the light on the corner of his desk to fend off the growing darkness as he read through the thick stack of paperwork in his hands. He folded the papers back into a file and placed it lightly on his desk before coming to check on her. Vicky watched him approach.
    “How are you feeling?” he asked.
    Vicky cleared her throat lightly and smiled weakly. “Better,” she whispered. The crackle was gone from her voice, but it was still tender to talk.
    Darien nodded his approval and held out his hand so Vicky could use it to stand. “It’s getting late. Let me take you home. You should be fine by morning,” he reassured her.
    “I’m sorry,” Vicky whispered as she took hold of his hand and rose from the couch. She felt bad that she had slept for most of the day.
    “Don’t be.” He patted her on the shoulder as they headed towards the door. “It’s not your fault. You did a good job today.”
    Vicky looked at him skeptically and shook her head as she headed to her desk. Saving her work, she cleared away her project before picking up her bag, so Darien could take her home.
    Holding the door for her, he let her lead the way.
    Vicky was still unsure how to feel about the events of the day as she settled into the passenger seat of the familiar Aston Martin. She closed her eyes and thought about the man who had strangled her and the last thought that passed through her mind as she black out. A joyless laugh slipped from her.
    “What’s funny?” Darien asked, trying to coax Vicky’s thoughts from her.
    “Ironic more than funny.”
    He cocked an eyebrow, and Vicky continued.
    “I was sure I was going to die when that guy had me pressed against the door, but it didn’t happen.” The day had been too surreal to scare her at the moment.
    Darien was surprised at how well she was taking the near-death experience. Of course, he wasn’t about to tell her how close she had actually come to dying. “What didn’t happen?” he prodded.
    She shrugged. “That whole ‘life flashing before your eyes’ thing. It didn’t happen. No