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“Give me some help
down here!”
Galen sprinted back through the door and the ship to burst
into the medical room, ready for anything. His warrior woman
had woken and had managed to back herself into a corner
where she waved a scalpel.
One eye sealed shut and the other not much better. Doc tried
to calm her but to no avail. He could see her fear behind
the bravado act.
“Clear the room.” Galen ordered his voice calm.
“What?” Doc and Ryder asked simultaneously, shock apparent.
“Do it now,” he bit off. “And close the hatch behind you.”
Galen never took his eyes off the petrified woman. Her dark
hair fell in a ratty mess past her shoulders. Her brown skin
seemed pale, from lack of sun he bet. She wasn’t rail thin
but a woman with curves. One which would mold perfectly to a
man while in his arms. He would be more than happy to play
the man part in that scenario.
With a sharp mental reprimand, he focused on the matter
before him.
“You sure about this, man?” Ryder asked. “Maybe I—”
“Go.”
Galen knew why Ryder tried to offer to do this, gentleness
not a word most people used for him. Normally he would have
not put up an argument but this little woman made him
acquire the gut reaction of possessiveness. Moreover, he
wanted none of the men near her.
The door latched and he knew they were alone. He moved
slowly toward her. She adjusted her stance and tightened her
grip on the razor sharp blade. A crude and overall
ineffective grip, one he could disarm in mere seconds, but
what she lacked in knowledgeable talent she made up in
determination.
“You’re safe, Taryn,” he said removing his tactical vest and
lying it on the table she’d once occupied. “I’m not going to
hurt you.”
“Stay back,” she rasped.
“I can’t. You need an IV and to let Doc finishing checking
you over.”
She shook her head. “No.” Her free hand groped along the
wall as if seeking support and stability. He knew it hurt
her given it happened to be the same side as her shoulder
injury.
“Yes. Come on.” Another step towards her brought the scalpel
up another notch. “You’re safe, Taryn. No one is going to
hurt you.”
“My name…”
“Yes.” He scrambled to recall one of the men’s names. “Geoff
said your name was Taryn.”
The hand gripping her impromptu weapon wobbled. “Are…are
they okay?”
Her concern for them impressed him. “Yes.” Another step and
she shook but neither the fear nor determination wavered.
“I’m going to help you to the table, Taryn. You keep the
scalpel and stab me if you have to. I won’t hurt you, but
sweetheart, you’re about to collapse.”
“Don’t…call me sweetheart,” she said.
He did smile then before he positioned himself by her
injured side giving her an unobstructed line of attack if
she wanted to. Dangerous, yes, but he had to assure her he
would not harm her. Sure, he could disarm her but somewhere
beyond the wall of ice around his heart, he wanted her to
trust him. Like a young girl from long ago did.
What is wrong with me?
She stiffened at his touch but didn’t pull away. As before,
she felt right against him. He assisted her to the table and
on to it, sliding his tactical vest toward the end. The
bruising on her face broke his heart.
“I need to get you on an IV. I’ll get Doc.”
“No. You.”
He could hear her plea. Her tenuous trust went only as far
as him. Galen licked his lips and nodded. With a harsh
breath, he gathered the required items and sat down before
her. Head dipped he began to sterilize her arm. There was
strength below her skin. He’d just slid the needle beneath
her skin when the scalpel clattered to the floor. Thumb
securing the item in place he jerked his head up, unsure if
she’d lost consciousness or not.
She hadn’t however, her brown eyes were wide and a bit
unfocused.
“You okay, sweetheart?”
“Bane?” His heart stopped. “Can it be?” Then she passed out,
only his quick reaction stopping her from hitting hard. He
used one arm to guide her slowly to lie down. His hands
shook, actually shook, as he taped the IV in place.
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