Free More than Truth (Arcane Crossbreeds) by Amanda Vyne

from her face. “It’s Saturday, very late, I would say.”
    “Bloody bastard,” Brit hissed. That doctor had kept her in that hole for nearly three whole days. Although the temperature in the room had been controlled, it hadn’t been even close to what she would consider comfortable, and the cement walls and floor had sapped all the heat her body managed to generate. She felt cold from the inside out, and she glanced longingly at the shower stall. A hot shower would be heaven right now.
    The man chuckled. “Soon. I want to be sure you’re not seriously injured first, and then you can scald yourself for hours if you like, love.”
    Brit watched him set aside the cloth and dig through the first-aid kit to pull out an antiseptic wipe. The endearment felt familiar, but she hadn’t even known Tag had a brother. “Have we met? You seem to know me, but I can’t say the same.”
    He paused for a long moment before ripping open the packet and pulling the wipe out. “We met a long time ago. I knew your family.”
    Brit looked down at the wrinkled material of her slacks and smoothed her fingers over the worst of the creases. She wanted to ask how he knew her parents, but she didn’t want to open up that particular wound. “It must have been long ago, then.”
    He tipped her face up with a knuckle below her chin, and she met his gaze. The greens and browns in his eyes were a fractured kaleidoscope around his pupils and soft with understanding. “Yes. Another life,” he said and gave her a reassuring smile before lifting the antiseptic wipe. “This might burn a bit.”
    The line between his brows deepened again as he focused on what he was doing, and Brit winced when he gently touched the pad to her skin. She took advantage of his distraction to study him, to try to determine why she was so drawn to him.
    The man was clean-shaven and, coupled with the full head of curls, it made his face look thinner than Tag’s, but every other feature was the same. Right down to the wide nose and full lips. She wondered if they would be as warm and as soft as Tag’s? Would his kiss be just as aggressive? The thoughts came unbidden, and Brit shook her head to clear them away.
    A small smile lifted one side of those lips, and she wondered if he was reading her mind again. Good God, she hoped not. She strengthened her mental walls in case and cleared her throat. “What’s your name?”
    “Dr. Vincent Jennings,” he murmured distractedly and inspected the tear in her shirt with a frown that was deepening the furrow between his brows. “I want to check your ribs.” He rumbled the words and gently slid the bottom of her blouse up to just beneath her breasts, his knuckles brushing the undersides. Vin’s eyes shifted, the pupils elongating for one heartbeat, but he blinked, and when he lifted his eyelids, his pupils once again appeared normal. His hands were so warm, and her chilled flesh soaked it up, craving even more as he tenderly pressed around her middle. “How is your breathing?”
    “Easy,” Brit murmured and tried not to think about his fingers touching her belly and ribs. “What kind of doctor are you?”
    “PhD. Genetics and bioengineering.” His voice was hoarse, and the sound of it had the effect of a cat’s rough tongue over her senses. He smoothed her shirt back into place. “It doesn’t look like anything is broken, but you’re pretty colorful.”
    “Understandably so. Those bastards managed to land several kicks despite how dark it was.” And it had been dark. Like the pitch her papa had used to waterproof his boat when she was child in Ireland. While she’d been sitting on the cold concrete floor trying to blink away the inkiness that surrounded her, she’d remembered the look of the tar in his bucket, thick and so black it didn’t even reflect the watery sun overhead. That was what the darkness had started to feel like to her, heavy and oppressive, coating her until she feared no light would ever