Free WANTED (A Transported Through Time book) by Amber Scott Page B

from screaming.
    When she heard footsteps coming fast and close, relief flooded through her. He was back. Everything would be okay. She would be okay.
    Jesse brought a cool cloth to her forehead and wiped away the sheen of sweat. Ginny peered at her ankle, hands behind her back, similar to the way Jesse had. She went a bit more slowly, though. Samantha watched the woman’s face. She was pretty in a handsome sort of way and had intelligent eyes. She carefully examined Samantha’s ankle. Not once did she look up and take in or judge Samantha’s appearance.
    “How far up has the pain moved?” Ginny said and met her stare evenly.
    “Knee,” Samantha said through clenched teeth.
    Ginny nodded and stood back up. Jesse paced behind her, arms crossed over hard muscle. His pecs formed a deep valley of male cleavage. Samantha closed her eyes. How could she notice such a thing at a time like this?
    She opened her eyes and forced her gaze to stay on Ginny. The little brunette bent over her ankle again and suddenly, her delicate eyebrows arched upward, her mouth opening to form a small “Oh.”
    “What?” Samantha asked. “What is it?” Pain throbbed with each pulse of her blood. She felt like a good scene out of a bad movie. That’s when she remembered this wasn’t real. Samantha laid her head back and wiped her eyes.
    “Jesse,” Ginny said. “Look at this. Here ... and here.”
    “I didn’t see it,” Jesse said, sounding angry.
    Samantha opened her eyes. Jesse stood at her foot, shaking his head and looking like he’d sucked on a tart lemon. Was he angry with himself? He shouldn’t be. He didn’t bite her.
    Besides, this was no more than a figment of her—
    “Get my knife,” Jesse said.
    Samantha fought to sit up, to stop Ginny from scrambling from the room for any sharp object. If she didn’t wake up from a wet bed or from shooting, stabbing pains up her leg, who knew what was happening in reality. Anyone getting a knife was a bad idea.
    The last time this happened, she’d never found those panties. She’d somehow removed them in her state of semi-consciousness, who knew where or why . If she were in that same semi-conscious state now, she could be doing all sorts of strange things to herself, causing her own pain, acting out what she dreamed.
    She might have peed in the kitchen sink, broken a glass, and was now bleeding on her dingy grout while Charles and Fluffy slept peacefully two rooms away, oblivious that she was hurting herself.
    Ginny returned, knife in hand. The blade shone in the moonlight and looked nothing like Samantha pictured any old western utensil did. No rust, no crude handle. Nice gleaming steel and an expensive-looking ivory handle.
    Samantha blinked. She shook her head. The pain moved upward, and for a moment, terror traveled through her. She didn’t want to die. She wanted whatever had bitten her to die instead. When Ginny approached, Samantha had the urge to close her eyes and let the woman cut her open.
    Jesse must’ve seen her rising panic, because he lay next to her and began whispering soothing words into her ear. “Shhh. It’ll be all right, Samantha. You’re safe with me. I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.”
    That’s when the world went pitch-black.
     

~~~
     
     
    Chapter Eight
     
    Long before she actually passed out, Jesse could see she was going to. Her face grew pale, and her lips lost their rosy color. A fear unlike any other gripped him, along with the knowledge he mustn’t stop her. Better for her to stay knocked out than to be in pain.
    A fear too similar to one he’d long ago felt for his sister, when they’d first found themselves on their own—mother gone in childbirth, father dead in the war. Grandmother passed away after raising them best she could for ten years.
    As he watched her eyes flutter and listened to the small gasp escape her mouth, his belly roiled in acidy powerlessness. Her head went limp and to the side. That’s when he knew