Arak's Love: A World Beyond Book 2 (15 page)

Chapter 17

Sylvie winced and opened her eyes. What happened? Panic sent a fresh jolt of fear through her.

Arak.

“Arak!” Sylvie cried out.

The thought of being buried alive motivated her enough to push limply at the debris covering her. Silence echoed around her broken by the occasional groan of the demolished restaurant. Dizziness assailed her and Sylvie’s head flopped back on the ground. She winced as another flash of pain seared her temple. She focused on Arak to distract her mind. He had to be alive. The thought that the explosion could have taken him away from her permanently caused the lump in her throat to grow until swallowing became more difficult.

Voices rose. Hands pressed, touched. Pain ricocheted. She hurt everywhere, her body one big ache. Most of it seemed concentrated in her head. Sylvie groaned as fingers prodded her temple then her neck.

“I’ve got a pulse. This ones alive!”

Someone shifted her body, softness beneath her. She swallowed thickly. “Arak.”

“Rest easy,” the words whispered along her ear. “We’re going to help you.”

What about Arak? Was anyone helping him? Sylvie blinked and the sky of Enotia met her gaze. How’d she get outside? Her mind strained for her last thought. Arak had thrown her clear of the explosion and out the window. She remembered hitting the ground. Panic overrode reason and she tried to sit up. Fire lanced her side and Sylvie screamed.

“Hold her! Strap her down!”

Another voice, this one deeper. “We’re losing her!”

As shadows danced behind her eyelids, Sylvie drifted. She’d rest for a quick minute while these people helped the lady in danger then go look for Arak.

***

Arak shoved the plank of metal and wood off the lower half of his body. He rose to his feet with an unsteady wobble and lack of his usual grace. “Sylvie?”

The crackle of dying flames and running water broke the silence.

“Sylvie!” Arak roared and fought to control his shift. He was no good to Sylvie as a cat. He rushed toward the last known spot when he’d thrown her, tripping along the disjointed sections of upraised flooring.

“Sylvie!” He shouted again.

Eyes on the shattered, front glass window, Arak jumped over broken tables and chairs. Sirens wailed in the background but urgency drove him. His nostrils twitched and he choked on the burning fumes. Sylvie. Had to find Sylvie. Nose in the air, he tried to track her scent but only caught wisps of the honey fragrance he searched for.

Arak caught his breath at the damage around him, blood pumping through his veins. Sylvie. Where was Sylvie in this chaos?

“Are you hurt?” someone touched his arm.

Arak lashed out, claws extended.

“Whoa…” The med tech raised his hands and took a step back. “You’re bleeding.”

Arak wiped at the drops running down the side of his face. He needed Sylvie. Nothing mattered but finding her. “There’s a female. Blonde…”

The tech snorted, waving a hand around. “Most of the females we recovered are blond.”

Recovered. Inside his soul howled. “Where? I need to find someone.”

Two more med techs entered the wreckage, the giant white cross on their blue jackets identifying them.  Arak glanced around, his blurred vision zooming in on the other blue coated men kneeling on the ground helping the injured. His physical aches paled in comparison to the feelings ravaging his heart. Agony burst from his chest. A few bodies were already encased in long, black bags piled on nearby hover stretchers two and three high.

Terror chilled to the bone as soul deep fear crashed into his mind. He stood amidst the rubble, stepping over what looked like a broken chair. Panting, Arak shoved passed the protesting tech trying to wipe at his face with gauze. He growled at those who dared come close, making his way outside.

Outside was madness. More black bags on the ground in an obscene display sprawled across what had once been a beautiful landscaped lawn welcoming those to Santagos. He counted at least four blue and white medical center hover vans, their back doors opened to reveal dozens of black bags.

Crying and sniffling reached him, the sounds distorted from the damage his ears sustained. People sat on the ground, head to knees. Others stood gazing around in confusion. Sylvie. He had to find Sylvie. Arak scented the air. His lungs seized at the delicate trace of honey he caught. Arak followed the scent, worry gnawing at him the closer he drew to one of the ominous vans parked half on the curb and half on the street. His heart thudded with each breath he dragged in.

Two techs worked over a hover stretcher by the opened rear doors. More honey wafted in his direction. The body on the stretcher remained unmoving. Slim arms hung limply in the air and blonde hair trailed over the edge. His cat raked at his insides, a mournful cry building within. Arak pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes as they burned. A vice crushed his chest and liquid pain poured through him.

Dropping his arms, Arak forced himself to walk the last few steps until he stopped beside the woman on the stretcher. Lavender fabric ripped down the center, red rivulets running over creamy skin he’d recently stroked and caressed. His breath hitched. His Sylvie. He’d failed to save his mate in time. His cat howled.

One of the techs glanced up and paled. His partner’s head jerked up. Arak couldn’t stop the mournful snarls and growls. His Sylvie lay bleeding on the stretcher. Arak’s hand shook as he tentatively touched her hair. Like silk despite the tangles. His dirty thumb caressed the gentle swell of her cheeks.

“I’m sorry, sir. We need to take her in. Emergency responders are waiting for the influx of patients.”

Arak’s head snapped up. “She’s alive?”

The man’s brows shot up. “Yes, sir. It’s bad but she has a chance.”

Arak choked, relief weakening his limbs. He pressed his face to Sylvie’s neck, breathing deeply of her scent. Honey and the rich, metallic stink of blood.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered in her ear.

“Arak!”

He turned. Torkel, Jaron, Davar, Gregir and Geile raced toward him.

“Your papan contacted us,” Torkel spoke as soon as he reached Arak’s side. “He’s at the medical center, minor bumps and bruises. He’s driving the staff crazy looking over each person they bring in. Searching for you.”

Guilt washed over him. Arak hadn’t once thought of his papan.

“We have to move, Unit Leader Alonson.” The techs guided Sylvie’s stretcher into the back of the van and panic hit Arak.

“I need to go with her.” He refused to be parted from her side.

The denial was on the tip of the man’s tongue but something on Arak’s face must have warned him. “Get in but stay back.”

Arak faced Torkel. “Dr. Maku—”

“I’ll send him.” Torkel gripped his shoulder. “We’ll meet you there after we help with crowd control.”

It was then Arak noticed his teammates wore their red riot uniforms. In case mayhem broke out. Sirens pierced the night as the first wave of vans began to leave. Duty pulled as his gaze surveyed the crowd, the damaged restaurant and so many in need of assistance. His brain fogged over.

Torkel squeezed. “Take care of Sylvie. We’ll handle everything.”

Arak jumped in the van, his hand reaching for Sylvie’s. She never woke during the ride and he didn’t like the look the med techs kept exchanging over his head.

***

Torkel and Team One arrived along with Dr. Maku as promised, the doctor’s face pale but gaze determined. Just seeing them eased some of Arak’s anxiety.

“Where is she?” Maku asked, not wasting time on preliminaries.

Arak pointed toward a door across from where they stood. A giant window along side the wall gave them all a clear view of blue-coated men working on Sylvie and several others in the room.

Maku gripped Arak’s shoulder. “I’ll take care of her.”

Arak fought to drag air into his chest. He didn’t like the yellow lights over Sylvie’s bed. A few times they’d blinked red then back to yellow. The sheet draped Enotian male in the far right had already succumbed to his injuries despite the medical intervention.

When Arak could speak without choking, he said, “They haven’t told me anything. S-she’s important to me.”

Maku nodded and strode into the room.

“Have you seen your papan?” Torkel asked.

Arak nodded. His papan had tracked him down the moment he’d arrived. Fortunately, Garis had been outside inspecting a blown sensor in the rooftop sign above Santagos during the explosion. He’d come out mostly unscathed but for scratches from flying debris.

Torkel nudged the torn sleeve of Arak’s uniform. “Let’s sit down. You look like you need to be treated as well.”

“I’m fine.” His eardrum had burst but already his hearing was better. The other injuries were minor and his body continued to heal.

The others took up position by the entrance, wary gazes on everyone who walked by.

“Do you know what happened?” Torkel leaned against the wall behind him, ankles crossed.

Arak shoved a hand through his hair. “My papan spoke with investigators. A freak accident. The tubing for the cooking equipment leaked and gas ignited causing the chain of explosions.”

His papan used old fashion cooking methods instead of automated food units. All of his equipment was top of the line and inspected quarterly. Arak could confirm this because he read the reports and met with the inspectors if his papan was unavailable. Yet knowing the proper steps had been taken would do little good because the female he cared for was fighting for her life.

“I threw her,” Arak muttered as he stood outside the room, staring into the operating window while Dr. Maku worked over Sylvie with the other techs. “I threw her.”

He’d never forget the moment watching her body fly through the air, knowing she’d slam hard into the ground when she hit.

“You saved her life,” Torkel reminded.

Arak’s gaze remained on Sylvie motionless form. He’d reacted instinctively. His cat’s drive to protect his mate directing his actions before he’d even considered what he’d done.

The hail of glass and stone had merely left him with deep lacerations. He’d heal. Easily. But not Sylvie. Her fragile human skin and bones had been damaged worse. Possibly permanently.

They stayed that way for almost an hour until Torkel spoke again. “What is she to you?”

Arak turned back to Torkel, whose gaze held a calculating angle. The question pulled his team closer, each waiting to hear his response.

“Not yet,” Arak warned his unit leader. He’d share his feelings with Sylvie first. His gaze went back to the window, punishing himself with the view.

If he got the chance.

Dr. Maku walked out and headed in their direction. He met Arak’s stare evenly but said nothing.

“How is she?” Arak asked, his cat prepared to tear the man apart if he’d failed.

“Fine. Or will be.” Dr. Maku sighed as he reached them. “Earth females have different physiology which caused the techs some trouble. My notes on Faye helped. Sylvie had a slight concussion, broken ribs, a punctured lung the staff had already repaired and bruises to go along with the injuries. Her body didn’t handle the trauma well and she crashed twice.”

Arak moaned and his stomach dipped.

“The hit to the head’s what kept her unconscious. I’ve helped heal everything. She’s very lucky,” Maku finished.

Lucky. Arak hated the word. He’d thrown her soft body across the length of an entire room and the doctor thought she was lucky.

Torkel straightened. “I’ll return and let the others know she’s going to be fine. Faye was worried and her friend Joni is threatening to carve Kyele with his own knives if she can’t come down.”

The last gave Arak a brief spurt of humor which faded just as quickly. He waited for Torkel to leave and turned to his teammates. Geile, Gregir, Jaron and Davar frowned in his direction. The red of their uniform attracted stares but no one dared to approach Jutak warriors wearing such fierce expressions.

Arak drew a deep breath and let it out. “I’m fine.”

They accepted his word and followed the path Torkel had taken, leaving Arak to face Maku.

“I want to see her.” The words rasped from his chest.

Dr. Maku ran a hand through his disheveled blond hair, shoulders curved in weariness. “She’s awake. Groggy but asking for you. I’m staying to help others. The staff is overrun but you can reach out to me on the comm if either of you need anything.”

“Thank you.” There were no other words Arak could think to say.

Maku’s gentle smile creased his face and he strode down the hall at a swift pace.

“Arak!” A large body slammed into his from behind, arms wrapping around his waist.

The familiar scent reached his delayed senses and Arak turned to hold tight to his papan. Garis choked as he squeezed tighter, tremors shaking his body.

“I’m fine, Papan,” Arak soothed, blinking back tears. He’d almost lost the man who meant the world to him.