The Serpent in the Stone (The Gifted Series) by Nicki Greenwood Page B

Ian, ” Faith repeated flatly.
    “ You don ’ t trust them, do you? ”
    Faith closed up the kit and put it back in its place. She went to the tent door and paused, pursing her lips. “ At this point, I don ’ t trust much of anyone. Ian ’ s the least of my worries, especially if he ’ s leaving. ” She stepped out of the tent.
    Most of the time, Sara trusted her sister ’ s intuition with her life.
    This time, she feared she might regret it.

Chapter Four
    The nightmare again.
    Ian waded through the mess on the office floor. He groped for the desk lamp, then flipped it on with a sense of dread.
    He knew the precise moment when the wraith appeared behind him. A flush of frigid air chilled his back. Ian steeled himself and turned around. His blood ran like ice water at the sight of the man.
    Saying nothing, the gory man staggered forward and reached for Ian ’ s left arm. Ian jumped backward, but the man seized his shoulder in a crushing grip. Fire shot from Ian ’ s shoulder throughout his body. He screamed in agony and struggled, but the man stepped forward and pinned him to the desk.
    Ian ’ s entire being shrank into that stone-faced stare and the torture of the man ’ s hold. He fought against the man ’ s bearlike grip. Tendons in his shoulder shifted and popped. Muscles contracted. His shoulder burned as if shards of glass were being driven into the joint. The shapes in the room blurred. Everything went scorching white.
    He woke in the next instant blowing like a winded horse, and reached for his left shoulder. Pain throbbed along the length of his arm. Ian half expected it to be dislocated again, but the joint felt sound. He groaned and closed his eyes. The ache faded into numbness.
    This dream was getting old real fast.
    He lay silent a while, drifting in and out of a restless doze, until he heard footsteps outside his tent. He snapped awake at once. After the incident with his climbing rope, every sound that wasn ’ t wind or birds put him on alert. He rolled smoothly out of bed and onto his feet.
    The sun had risen. A shadow fell across his tent. “ Ian? ”
    Sara.
    A mental picture of her naked body, washed in gold by the reflection of the sunset, charged into his thoughts and obliterated everything else. Wrestling to push the image out of his head—and the reaction out of his body—he reached for a clean T-shirt. “ Give me a minute. ” Or maybe a few minutes, because all he wanted was to keep playing that image and see where it led.
    He shrugged his bad shoulder purposely, letting the discomfort force his attention elsewhere. The joint tingled with the same pins-and-needles sensation he ’ d experienced when he woke from his nightmare. He put the shirt on, careless about his injury, then grabbed his sling and went barefoot to the tent door.
    When he opened it, Sara stood there with her hands jammed into her coat pockets, looking like she wanted to be anywhere else. Her cheeks were pink, too pink to be from the exertion of her walk alone, and he wondered if she were thinking of that encounter at the inlet. Shut up about it, he ordered his body.
    A backpack hung from her shoulder. She canted her head, seeming to weigh her words. “ You didn ’ t come down last night. ”
    “ I had to finish packing, ” he lied.
    She frowned. “ I need your help. ”
    The image of the gory man flashed in his memory. Hhhhelp her. Ian jerked in surprise. He ’ d never ignored his gut responses before.
    Something told him not to start now. He wanted to tell her to forget it, but the throbbing of his shoulder reminded him he owed her his life, whether he liked it or not. He hated being indebted to her, being forced to have anything to do with her.
    But parts of him really, really liked it.
    He sighed. Help her, it is. This once...then I ’ m out.
    Her cheeks went pinker, and he saw her try to push herself past the awkwardness of their last meeting. The look on her face tugged at his sense of humor. If it