Skin Heat by Ava Gray Page A

speak it or think of it.
    “’Night, Zeke.” Neva stood in the shine of his headlights, watching him drive away.
    He had a strange feeling about leaving her, like it was the last thing he should ever do. The urge to slam the truck into park and run back to her nearly overwhelmed him. Gritting his teeth against his quiet horror about being behind the wheel, he held on tight, ignored the impulse, and went on home. He just had to hang on a little longer.
    Day by day, he told himself that. One day he’d wake up and the world would be right again. A quiet little voice said, No, that’s not happening. Not ever.
    Zeke ignored that whisper. If he didn’t, they won.
    That night, the dream came. It was always the same. He lay strapped on a hospital-style bed, his arms buckled at the wrists, straps on his ankles as well. He was completely naked, bright lights shining down while people stood all around him talking about him like he wasn’t a person. The low murmurs were indistinguishable, but he heard displeasure in their tones. Then the pain began.
    Needles at first, jabbing into his skin, over and over. He had no way of knowing how much time passed while they worked on him. After the needles, they used electricity: electrodes on his head, his chest, and his sex. The current made him howl; the shocks went on and on, until he screamed and it all went dark. Awakening found him back in the cell, still naked, blood trickling from his arms and legs. Unlike the others, he couldn’t scream or weep. He had no voice. No words. So he curled into himself and waited for the torture to start again.
    Zeke woke in a pool of sweat, ready to kill someone for what had been done to him. They’d stolen almost a year of his life, all told, between the time he was held hostage, and the long months it took him to work his way home. But he didn’t kid himself that he had the resources to find answers, so he’d do the next best thing.
    You bastards thought you broke me, but you didn’t. I will rise. Then he began the long hike back to the house because when he woke from one of those nightmares, he was never in his own bed.
     
    Neva worked at a mad pace, and the following week went in a rush. Hunting season always brought its share of calamities. Having an extra body around helped greatly, and Zeke proved amenable to pitching in as needed. Sometimes there was no substitute for a strong man willing to hold a frightened animal. She and Julie occasionally had trouble with the larger dogs.
    Over time, she noticed he had a real rapport; injured creatures calmed around him. He was as patient and capable around animals as he was strange and awkward in the presence of people. And unlike the others who had come and gone, he was dead reliable. With him on board, she found herself working shorter hours because she didn’t have to stay late and clean up.
    The downside? Most nights, she had too much time to think.
    Fortunately, this wasn’t one of those times. She had a Great Dane in the exam room and a worried owner to deal with. She donned her professional smile and went in. To her surprise, she found Zeke in with them. The dog had been whimpering pitifully when they arrived, but she was fine now. Maybe that was just because she was lying down. That suggested a wide variety of possible causes.
    “Got a sec?” he asked.
    Nonplussed, she stepped into the hall with him with a parting smile for the client. “What’s up?”
    “Her hips hurt.”
    “The owner told you that?”
    He shrugged.
    “Great Danes are prone to hip dysplasia and Yancy’s getting on in years. Thanks for letting me know.”
    She didn’t understand why they’d needed to have that conversation in private, but Neva had given up trying to make sense of Zeke’s quirks. It was enough that he helped so much; the practice ran smoother than it ever had. He’d picked up their routine quickly and cleaned the exam room between patients without being asked. He never complained, no matter how