Somewhere to Dream (Berkley Sensation) by Genevieve Graham Read Free Book Online Page B

look away. I’d never met the man before, but I knew those eyes so well they might have been with me all my life. After he’d been cleaned a bit, I knew his hair would be golden, his body sleek and strong as a mountain cat’s. I had spent my life running from my dreams. This man lying bleeding on the ground, blinking through the eyes that had haunted those dreams . . . he was as real as could be.

CHAPTER 7

    Healing
    “Ad-layd.”
    I stepped away with reluctance and crouched beside Dustu. I did a quick check of his injuries, called for what I needed, and two young boys ran to get it. I ran my fingers over the break gently, trying not to make Dustu yelp.
    “You must be calm,” I said to him. “Breathe through your nose.”
    “Ha!” he replied. His eyes shifted cruelly toward the prisoner. “He cannot breathe through his beak. I broke it.”
    I shook my head and lifted one eyebrow. “Sorry, Dustu. It was already broken before you hit him. You just got his lip going again.”
    “Quiet, woman,” he grumbled, but Soquili chuckled beside me. He folded his arms over his chest and glared down at Dustu, pale and sweating into the dirt.
    “I told you this man is mine,” Soquili told him. “Why do this?”
    “Soquili, you are a fool,” Dustu spat through clenched teeth. “This is no man like your brother. This is a toad. He is not worthy of your family.”
    Soquili spoke briskly before turning away. “That is not for you to say. Especially now. You are a small man for fighting an injured man. I had thought you braver than that.” Dustu made a furious noise, but Soquili shook his head with disgust and addressed me. “Fix the coward, Ad-layd, then go to your house. I will bring this man for you to heal.”
    Once the others dwindled and I had Dustu in place, he seemed to get over his initial agony and bite down on his sounds of pain. Dustu wasn’t prone to sitting still for long. A broken bone would take a long time to heal with a man like this. I told him what I suggested he do, including rest, then said I would stop in at his house later to check on him. He frowned, then nodded once, dismissing me. I rose and collected my things, then left.
    By the time I arrived at my house, Soquili had already brought the prisoner. He sat in a corner, glaring at us like a cornered bear. Except a bear would have had a thicker, more impressive coat. This man’s torn clothing was a dull mud brown, patched with blackened blood.
    “I need to clean you off so I can see to your wounds,” I said.
    It was an odd experience, speaking English after so many months. The prisoner looked slightly startled, but said nothing, only maintained his forbidding glare. I approached cautiously, thinking this would be like treating a wild animal. I half feared he might bite. I dipped a cloth into a wooden bowl set at his side, disturbing the still surface and inviting the aroma of sweet herbs into the air. I wrung out the cloth, watching the man closely, then held it out for him to assess. He seethed.
    “It’s only water,” I assured him, then pressed the cloth against my cheek in illustration.
    His chin lifted, seeing proof that whatever was in the bowl was safe, then he gave me a brief, almost imperceptible nod. I took his wrist between my fingers, feeling the rounded sharpness of his bones, then gently caressed his forearm with the cloth so he could feel the truth. He flinched at my touch, then slowly relaxed and let me cut through the dirt with the cloth.
    From across the room, Soquili watched, then grunted as if he’d just remembered something. He came toward us and reached in the direction of the man’s throat. The prisoner instantly jolted backward, pressing his back against the wall of the house, fists raised. I barely caught my bowl before it was kicked over.
    “What are you—” I began, just as confused as the man.
    “His shirt,” Soquili explained.
    I glanced at Soquili, then back to the man. “Of course,” I said, then