Colters' Promise (Colters' Legacy, #4)(43)

He pushed the hair out of her face with gentle fingers and frowned at the deep shadows under her eyes, the paleness of her features, and the deep lines of fatigue etched into her forehead. Her expression was grim even in unconsciousness.

Not knowing what possessed him, he found himself leaning down to press his lips to her forehead.

You don’t give up, Grace. You’re safe now. I won’t hurt you and I won’t allow anyone else to do so either. I’m going to take you home.

SUNLIGHT warmed her face, though she was in the grip of a pervasive chill that was bone deep. It hurt to shiver and yet she couldn’t do anything else.

It was as if there were weights pressing over her eyelids, preventing them from opening. Or perhaps she simply lacked the strength to do the simplest tasks anymore.

Pain crept over her, through her, puzzling her with its intensity. It was new. Fresh. And then she remembered falling over the side, sure that death had finally come to claim her.

A soft moan escaped before she could call it back and she chastised herself for that momentary loss of control. Such a lapse could get her killed.

Grace. Grace.

It took her a moment to realize that the person calling her name wasn’t saying it aloud but in her mind. She recoiled, wanting nothing to do with the distant voice. And then she was surrounded by strength. Warmth. It flooded into her veins so comforting that it shook her to her core.

“Grace.”

This time it was said aloud. A deep, rough, slightly accented voice. Just a hint of another world, one she couldn’t place.

“Wake up, Grace. Let me see those gorgeous baby blues.”

Her brow wrinkled and she tried to process her surroundings. She was afraid to open her eyes. Afraid that she’d be right back in the hands of monsters, forced to do their bidding. The mere thought made her want to weep. She wasn’t strong enough to endure more.

A gentle hand stroked over her cheek and carefully pushed away her hair, tucking it over her ear. Such warmth and tenderness. It was like rain to a sun-parched desert. She soaked it up, desperate for any comfort.

It took everything she had to conquer her fear and open her eyes. Sunlight stabbed through her vision, momentarily blinding her.

“That’s it,” the man said in a low voice. “Come back to me, Grace. I need you to wake up so we can figure out how badly you’re hurt.”

At the mere mention of injuries, pain screamed through her body. Her eyes flew open and her lips parted. Her breath rushed out, her chest jerking violently with the effort.

Fear nearly paralyzed her when her gaze met with the dark eyes of a man staring intently at her. She let out a cry and tried to bolt, not even realizing that he was still holding her.

She tumbled to the ground, landing with a thud that knocked the breath from her and sent agony tearing through her body again.

The man above her cursed vehemently and he immediately knelt beside her, running those big hands over her fragile body.

“Damn it, Grace, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I won’t go back.”

She barely managed to stammer out the defiant vow. It hurt to talk. It hurt to breathe. She felt broken. Something was broken. Her ribs, an arm … She couldn’t even decipher what was wrong with her. There was simply too much to process.

She stared up at him in panic, knowing she didn’t possess the strength to escape. Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. She could do nothing to prevent him from taking her back.

A deep shudder rolled through her body and the tears that had threatened slowly slid down her cheeks.

“Grace, I want you to listen to me.”

His voice was calm and oddly soothing. The tone mesmerized her as did those dark eyes that refused to look away from her.

“My name is Rio. I’ve come to take you home. To Shea.”

Her pulse leapt and her throat tightened. “Shea?” she croaked. “Is she all right?”

What if it was a trap? What if he was using information about her sister to lull her into a false sense of security?

He touched her cheek, his fingers infinitely gentle on her skin. He didn’t look like a man who had an ounce of gentleness in him. He was big and menacing. A warrior.

Dark-skinned, like he’d spent many hours in the sun, uncaring of the consequences. His hair was pulled back into a ponytail at his nape and his eyes were as dark as night.

“I spoke to her myself,” he soothed. “I promised her I’d find you and protect you. We’re the good guys, Grace. I realize you may have a hard time believing that or trusting me, but we’re here to help you. Shea is safe and she wants very much to see you again. We’ve all been worried about you.”

More tears slid down her cheeks and a quiet sob hiccupped from her throat. “I don’t want her to see me like this.”

Something like understanding flashed in his eyes. He touched her face again, wiping at the moisture on her cheekbone.

“I need you to tell me where you’re hurt. We have to move you. We can’t stay in this location, but I need to know what we risk by moving you more than we already have.”

She glanced around, slowly taking in her surroundings for the first time. Her breath caught when she saw the others. Warriors. Like this man called Rio. Stern and forbidding. How was she to know she could trust them? What choice did she have?

They were away from where she’d fallen the night before. How had they managed to find her and how had she survived the fall? Her memory of the event was hazy. She could only remember that moment when she knew she would likely die.