The Serpent in the Stone (The Gifted Series) (4 page)

He moaned behind her. Sara whirled around, tried to rise, and banged her head on the underside of the table. She winced and crawled out from under it to rub her throbbing scalp. That would be her penance for deciding to come see him.

But if she hadn’t...

His eyes opened and he tried to sit up. When he put weight on his left elbow, his face contorted in pain. He dropped back with a groan.

Without thinking, she shot across the tent to the cot, then slid a hand underneath his back. “We need to get you to Mainland and have your shoulder X-rayed.”

He groaned again as she helped him sit upright. “No.”

“What do you mean, ‘no’? Your shoulder’s dislocated. You might have a frac—”

“I said no. Can you put it back in place?”

“Ian—”

“Can you, or can’t you?”

She hissed outward through her teeth and sprang to her feet. “Yes. I can. Right now, I’m likely to leave you this way. Go ahead and give me an excuse.”

He closed his eyes, panting, and relief washed through her at the respite from that intense stare. Sweat trickled down his forehead.

Her own concerns forgotten, she moved toward him again. “For God’s sake, Ian,” she said, softening her tone as she knelt before the cot. She reached for his arm.

His eyes opened again as she touched him. She made herself look away. “H-How did it happen?”

“
My rope broke.
”

She caught her breath. If she’d been just a few seconds later... She might not have had to worry about someone knowing about her powers. Her stomach somersaulted. Rattled, she placed one hand on his left bicep and cupped his elbow with the other.
I can’t believe how warm he is
, she thought, feeling the muscular curve and sinew of his arm under her hands. “Hold still. This will hurt.” She gave his arm a firm shift in the right direction.

With a
pop
, the joint slid back into place.
Ian grunted and his breath whooshed out.
“
Thank you,
”
he said at last.

Without answering, she reached for the buckles of his climbing harness and undid them one by one.
She felt his gaze raking her face as she worked.
Heat crept into her cheeks.
Commanding her hands not to shake—and not getting the results she wanted—she reached for the last buckle on his waistbelt.
Just as she laid her hand on the strap to undo it, he seized her wrist in an iron grip.

She yelped and tried to jerk away...but he wasn
’
t looking at her.
He dropped her hand, then picked up the length of cord still hanging from his belt.
He thumbed the broken end.
“
I
’
m not leaving the island.
”

“
You don
’
t think you
’
re going to go back to climbing down cliffs, do you?
You need a hospital.
”

He held up the broken rope, so close that she had no choice but to look at it.
“
This was cut.
”

She focused on the end of the rope and saw the neatly sheared fibers.
“
Who would want to c-cut it?
”

He dropped the cord again, this time gripping both her wrists in spite of his injured arm.
“
My question exactly.
”

She recoiled, but he kept his hold.
It took all her resolve not to hit him with telekinesis.
“
Let go of me,
”
she whispered.

He didn
’
t.
His stare went icy, and she found herself wishing for the blazing look from moments before.
She tried to pull away again.
He held on, gritting his teeth through what must have been an excruciating jerk of his shoulder.
“
Let go,
”
she repeated with as much indignation as possible.

He released her wrists and sat back.
Pain crept into his features, but he masked it so fast she knew he hadn
’
t meant her to see.

“
Here.
”
She reached for his waistbelt again, but hesitated.
“
Do you want help, or not?
”

His expression lost some of that hard edge. She unbuckled the waistbelt with forced calm. Her gaze drifted lower. Ears burning, she followed the seam of his pants to the juncture of his thighs. Her heart pounded so hard, she dreaded he’d hear it.

Ian shifted and sat ramrod-straight. Her fingers flew to the buckles of the leg loops. His thigh muscles were rigid as marble. She loosened the buckles and slid the harness off his body, then reached for his fleece vest. “You’re going to need some help...unless you can do this one-handed...” She trailed off with her fingers on the zipper, feeling heat flush her face.

When he didn’t respond, she dared a look upward. The barest suggestion of humor had crept into his pain-glazed eyes. “I can figure it out,” he said. She lowered her hand and he undid the zipper, then shrugged his good shoulder. The vest came off one side. He reached across his chest and eased it down the other arm.

Watching him undress—even one innocent piece of clothing—brought on a fresh wave of jitters. Her stare fixed on the broad planes of his torso, visible under the snug thermal shirt. Well-defined shoulder muscles sloped into the curves of arm and chest. Mesmerized, she let her gaze fall lower.
He’s built more like a marathon swimmer than a teacher. How does this man spend time in a classroom and look like that?
“D-Do you have a sling? Painkillers?”

“Under the bed. The first-aid kit.”

She bent and fished around under his cot for it. Sweat glistened on his face. She shook herself out of her daze and opened the kit to find a prescription bottle. “You came prepared.”

“Not the first time I’ve had a shoulder problem,” he ground out.

She handed him the water canteen from his bedside table, then helped him put on a sling. Tension rippled through his body under her fingers. She longed to ask him about his memory of Faith’s necklace, but the thought of saying it aloud terrified her.

Her gaze traveled downward over the sling to his left hand. Dried blood crusted his bruised knuckles and torn fingertips. She reached into the first-aid kit for a packet of antiseptic wipes, then tore it open and dabbed gingerly at his wounds.

His body shivered and she looked up. The corner of his mouth had twisted into a wry smile. He shook with silent laughter, then winced and held his arm closer to his body. “What?” she whispered.

When he spoke, his voice rasped with mingled discomfort and mirth. “I have a dislocated shoulder, and you think a little peroxide is going to hurt me?”

She scowled to cover her nerves and finished wiping the blood off his hand. Fearing the answer, she plunged ahead with her next question. “How did you get back up the cliff?”

“I don’t remember.”

Of course he did. She’d caught the rise of his voice, the clipped edges of his words. She looked up, and her pulse quickened. He sat so close she saw tiny flecks of green in his eyes. His mouth quirked, bringing out a dimple in his stubbled cheek.

She snatched up the contents of the first-aid kit. “You have to keep your arm in a neutral position. Put something under the elbow to keep it a little away from your body. It could take a month to heal. You should do some exercises, ice it. And you shouldn’t raise it over your head for a while—”

Ian took her hand in his good one.
His warm fingers coasted over her palm.
“
Sara.
”

The contact, and the sound of her name on his lips, froze her in place where she knelt.
She sucked in a lungful of air and held it.

“
Look at me.
”

She quivered with the force of her powers begging to be released.
Her heartbeat slammed so hard she couldn
’
t catch her breath.
Not now, not now—
Swallowing, she looked up.

His expression had gone dead serious, and his gaze skimmed her body.
Something stirred, heated, in those stormy depths.
He searched her face—looking for the change?—and leaned closer.
Closer.
If she raised her chin, and shifted just...a little...bit...

“
Hello?
”
came a voice from outside the tent.
A moment later, Faith ducked in.
“
Well, this is interesting.
”

Sara yanked her hand out of Ian
’
s and sat back so quickly, she almost pitched over.

Faith smiled.
“
Where
’
ve you been?
I thought you
’
d be back by now.
”
She turned to Ian.
Her gaze fell on his sling.
“
What happened?
”

“
I dislocated my shoulder,
”
he answered, standing up.
He tested the joint with his opposite hand.

Sara watched her sister
’
s entire attitude change at the admittedly pleasant timbre of Ian
’
s voice.
Faith burst into a brilliant smile.
“
I don
’
t think we
’
ve properly met.
I
’
m Faith Markham, Sara
’
s sister.
”

“
Ian Waverly.
”
He shook her outstretched hand, then stepped back to allow her room.
“
Sara was helping me put my shoulder back into joint.
Come in.
”

“
Really?
You all right?
”
When he nodded, she added,
“
I started to worry when you didn
’
t come back down, Sara.
Breakfast has been over for half an hour.
”
Faith sidled into the tent, crouched down, and helped her gather the spilled contents of the first-aid kit.
Wo-o-o-ow!
she mouthed, eyes bright.

Sara flushed and glanced up through her lashes at Ian.
His gaze took on an intensity that made her heart start thumping again, equal parts foreboding and something much more disturbing.
She took a box of bandages from her sister and put it away.
“
We
’
d better go,
”
she said, shoving the kit back under the bed.
“
I
’
ve probably already missed breaking ground.
”

“
Not really,
”
Faith interrupted with a cheerful shrug.
“
We
’
ve been busy setting markers.
I
’
ll just go back down and let the guys know you
’
re okay.
”
She stood again.

Sara shot to her feet.
“
I
’
m coming with you.
Just give me a second.
”

Faith gave her a last, knowing look.
“
Nice to meet you, Ian.
Come down for dinner, if you get the chance.
”
She left the tent.

Before Sara could follow, Ian stopped her at the tent doorway with a hand on her arm.
She stiffened, struggled for something to say.
“
You should put some ice on that shoulder.
”

“
Yeah.
Thanks.
”

She eased out of his grasp and hurried away.

She caught up with her sister partway down the slope.
As she drew alongside, Faith said,
“
You can lose it, now.
He
’
s out of earshot.
”

“
You are the biggest thorn in my side I
’
ve ever known,
”
Sara said,
“
but your timing is impeccable, so thank you.
”

“
Yeah, you looked like you were dying for an interruption back there.
”
Her sister shrugged.
“
I used to hate that term
‘
bedroom eyes,
’
but I have to admit, he
’
s got
’
em.
If I were you, I
’
d have told me to piss off and come back later.
”

“
You
’
re not funny.
”