SEALs Of Honor: Mason Part 6

"Hot. So hot," she muttered, flopping back on the mattress. She kicked the bedding off her legs, trying to cool down yet again. A warm hand touched her forehead.

She twisted away from him. "I'm hot, don't add your hot hand to my head," she cried. "Why is it so hot?"

In the background she could hear someone whisper, "s.h.i.t."

She didn't know what his problem was. She was the one who was hot. Then she realized she wasn't alone. "Are you hot too?" She turned feverish eyes to Mason and studied him. He looked normal. But then normal for him was hot. "No. You're already hot. It can't be bothering you."

He frowned. "What?"

"Why are you so hot?" she cried. "I'm hot too but not hot like you are."

He shook his head.

She frowned up at him. "Of course you're hot," she snapped as she rolled over onto her stomach and stretched out across the whole mattress. "That's better."

"What's better?" Mason asked beside her.

"This waterbed. It's much cooler."

Then he touched her feet. She screeched in pain, flipped over onto her back and burst into tears. "Why are they burning? They are on fire. Why? Can't you put the fire out," she pleaded with him.

"I will. You stay here and I'll get water."

"Water. Yes. Water. It would put out the flames," she cried. "Hurry."

She twisted in pain, her knees bending and straightening as the throbbing wouldn't stop.

She whimpered, but it caught in the back of her throat and ended up sounding like a gurgle. She half laughed. "That sounded bad. I'm not sick. I'm just so hot."

"You're running a fever," said a grim voice beside her.

She opened her eyes and shrieked. Mason was leaning over her, his face close to hers, his gaze locked on her, cataloguing her features.

"Water," she asked when she could. "I'm so thirsty."

"Here." He reached an arm under her shoulders and helped her to sit up. Holding the gla.s.s to her lips, she drank greedily. When the gla.s.s was empty, she sank back to the pillows, tugging the covers up to hide the bare skin her underwear didn't cover. Then immediately, threw the covers off again. It was too hot.

"Sorry," she whispered.

"Really," he said, a smile in his voice. "What are you sorry about?"

"I got sick. You don't need that."

"Well, at least you got sick at the right time. You'll be taken out of here and get medical help within a few hours. Now if you'd been so inclined as to have gotten sick earlier, well that's a different story. But we're safe right now."

She gave him the briefest of smiles, appreciating his sense of humor.

"However, I have to clean your feet again," he said. "So I'm going to retrieve the stuff I need then I'll be back."

"And I won't be here," she muttered. "I don't want anyone to touch them."

"They are the reason for the fever, so it doesn't matter what you want," he said, his voice hard. Determined.

Instantly tears jumped into her eyes. She turned her face into the pillows to hide them.

Still hot and hating the weakness washing over her, she rolled all the way over until she was lying on her side, curled up in fetal position. He'd do it regardless of her feelings or the pain. The sane part of her mind said it needed to be done. She was sick and that was holding them all back. If she could feel better, she'd be able to run again, even if it was just to the right vehicle. Having her mobility stripped away from her made her feel vulnerable. Victimized. Weak. She needed her feet to heal.

That meant letting him treat them.

When she heard footsteps returning, she buried her face in the pillow and clenched the cotton casing tight in her fists.

There was no way she wanted to talk to him.

Her foot was grabbed in a firm hand and lifted. Nerves had her instinctively pulling it back.

Instantly, other hands grabbed her bare calf and stretched it out. Holding it firm.

She froze.

"Tesla. Swede is going to hold your legs down so I can do this. Bite on the pillow. It will help you deal with the pain."

She snorted.

"Swede."

Instantly her body was shifted like she was a two-year-old until her legs were supported by the bed and only her feet were hanging over the end. She lay on top of a rough scratchy surface, the top blanket, it was so rough she instantly shifted to rest her head on her folded arms. A blanket was thrown over her.

d.a.m.n it. It was hot, too.

The bed sagged as Swede, at least she presumed it was him, sat down. She could hear the two of them mutter, but her own nerves, that horrible antic.i.p.ation of oncoming pain blocked out any semblance of understanding. She started to shake.

"Okay, I'm going to start."

Swede reached down and gripped both ankles firm against the edge the bed.

Cool water poured over her feet.

Her relief was palpable as the light liquid didn't hurt until the burn set in. She clenched her jaw and arched her back as the shock and agony ripped through.

But she never made a sound.

Somewhere in the back of her brain, all she could remember was his earlier message about needing to be quiet. But she wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. Truly, she wanted to bawl her pain away. But held back. Locked into her position, her back arched, her arms rigid as her body fought against the agony.

"Jesus," Swede said. "Hurry up."

"I'm trying," Mason muttered.

Whatever he did next brought her collapsing back down on the bed. She closed her eyes...and endured.

MASON LOOKED UP at Swede then motioned toward Tesla's head. "Is she out?" he said in a low voice. He figured she had to be as her feet lay soft and pliant in his hands. Since that first reaction she hadn't moved.

Swede shook his head. "Her eyes are open."

Shocked, Mason stretched up to take a look. Sure enough, she stared across the room to the wall on the other side. And a small steady stream of tears rolled down her cheeks.

But she never made a sound.

Affected more than he'd have thought possible, he gritted his jaw closed and returned to the task at hand. This was hurting him as much as her. And from the grim look on Swede's face, he knew the big mammoth wasn't unaffected either.

He took his time to make sure all the slivers and grime were out of the torn flesh. This time he dug deep, spreading the sliced flesh and cleaned. He hadn't seen them all before and had missed several cuts. Now there was no room for error. She had everything from tiny pebbles buried in the puffy flesh to slivers. He thought there were tiny slivers of gla.s.s but couldn't imagine from where. By the time he was done, blood ran freely down her foot. Knowing it was going to hurt, but not having much option, he dumped the last of the alcohol over her bare feet.

They jerked and twitched. Glancing upward he could see her white fingers grimly clenching the d.a.m.n blankets, but she never made a sound. Her eyes though, Lord the look of pain almost broke his heart.

Swede handed him the bandages, cut up sheets had been sacrificed for the job.

Accepting them, he acknowledged the other man's need to leave too. They both wanted to be done here. Torturing kittens was something they'd beat up another man for. But when they had to do it themselves... Well, neither man wanted any part of it.

Determined to make sure her feet would heal now, he smeared ointment across them then bandaged first one then the other. He carefully bound her feet and ankles, needing the bandages to be snug but not so tight as to hurt.

She might want to run away, but she'd be lucky to hobble anywhere for several days.

Would she hold her condition against him? She should.

He did.

Chapter 9.

SHE WASN'T SURE at what point in the process she'd dropped into the dead zone. The point where she was still conscious but no longer concerned herself with the outside world as she was so focused on staying strong inside.

Her father had talked to her about it. Warned her that under horrible conditions, he'd often had to go there just to keep alive. Although she'd come close to that point in the cabin, tied up and lost, she'd still been outside. This time, with silence being paramount, she'd gone inside easily.

He'd been right. It was the place to go to survive.

She'd never have made it through that torture otherwise.

Even calling it torture made her wince. It was hardly that. But it had been painful as h.e.l.l. Nothing compared to the psychos out there who really were into torture, but it had been enough for her. She couldn't imagine if she was captured and taken overseas. She didn't think she'd survive. She wasn't like the strong men who'd rescued her. She couldn't imagine the training they must have gone through.

She hoped she'd never have to go through anything worse than this. She almost laughed but as she was still not moving her feet in case they started pounding with pain, any sudden movement was out of the question.

She wiped her eyes on the sheet beneath her cheek, thankful the tears were long gone. She knew they'd have noticed. How could they not? But there were only so many things she could worry about.

Tears didn't make it on that list.

But bawling like a weak wuss did.

She couldn't remember how she'd been during the process. Hopefully she hadn't shamed Harry or her father too much.

If she had, too d.a.m.n bad. She was Tesla. Not their clones. She'd do her best, and if she didn't match up to their expectations then...well, it wasn't the first time.

A gentle hand lowered onto her shoulder.

"How are you feeling?"

The voice so close to her ear made her freeze. Slowly she raised her head and looked around. Not only was she no longer crosswise on her bed, she was lying normally on one side, her feet propped up on pillows, the rest of her body covered by blankets. Her gaze slowly moved from her propped up feet to Mason's jean covered legs and...she swallowed as her gaze wandered higher to his bare heavily muscled torso, up to the broad shoulders and his shadowed features, the narrow gaze full of concern...for her.

She wanted to smile.

s.e.xiest looking man ever. In her bed. And not for her. But because of her. Sigh. She managed a wan smile. "From the look on your face I guess I was in rough shape?"

His features relaxed and he lay back down on the bed. "You could say that. But looks like you're back."

He propped his arms under his head, but his gaze never wavered as he studied her face. Her face that felt like it had been pummeled with a hammer, hot, swollen.

"I am." Now if only she understood where she'd been. She remembered a lot of last night. But not all of it. Evidently she'd dropped off to sleep at some point. She felt better. But a long way away from good yet. She forced her gaze away from his ma.s.sive arms and stared down at the pillow in front of her. Tear stained, it showed the evidence of a hard night.

"Sorry for worrying you."

He sat up, dropping his hands to rest on his knees. "Oh, we were worried all right. The fever broke finally, and I think we got that mess out of your feet."

"Is that what the problem was?" Her gaze cut over to his. "My feet?"

"Yeah. Not sure if it was the slivers that were in there, the rocks you had embedded, or you'd been bitten. Honestly, they were so swollen, I couldn't tell."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Really?" At his nod, she twisted around to take a more careful look at the bandages.

"So no dancing today, huh?"

His grin was wide and devilish. "Not unless it's lap dancing."

"Oh." She blushed hot. "I'll forego that pleasure for a while, thanks."

"Too bad." He hopped to his feet, bare feet, she registered at the last moment. "However, there are other priorities to consider."

She struggled to sit up, relieved to see her bra and panties on. They covered more of her then her bikini. She was willing to overlook the feeling that they were more intimate. She flipped so she was sitting on her b.u.t.t and checked out the room. It was the same as the one she'd gone to bed in. Good. At least she recognized her surroundings and that meant the bathroom was around the corner.

d.a.m.n.

As if understanding the uncertain woebegone look on her face, he walked around to her side of the bed and held out his arms. "Grab a hold."

Flushing with embarra.s.sment, she reached her arms around his neck and let him carry her to the bathroom. There he slowly lowered her to the toilet seat then stood there uncertainly.