Tina Donahue - Deep Within Me

There wasn’t any other choice. He must have known that from the moment he fought his people to keep her here. What he and she felt for each other shouldn’t have happened…and couldn’t continue. Zeke had already lost everything. Liz couldn’t bear to see him deprived of his clan’s respect and support. Her chest and throat ached with grief, but she wouldn’t back down. She couldn’t. “I have to go.” Her voice shook. Tears blurred her vision. It killed her to leave him, but she wanted him safe… She needed him loved. “You owe your loyalty to your people.”

He frowned. “I owe it to them and you.”

“Please,” she murmured. “Someday we might see each other again.”

“Someday? Might?” His frown deepened. “Hell, no.”

“There’s no other choice,” she whispered. “Let me have one of the vehicles. I’ll take my father to a safe place.”

“Where?” Zeke snapped. “Carreon’s still out there. So are his men.”

“They think I’m dead. They won’t be looking for—”

He interrupted, speaking to his clan, “If Liz leaves, then so do I.”

“Zeke, no.” Liz tried to push his arm from her waist. He held her even tighter. “You can’t mean that,” she cried.

“I’ve never been more serious. She and her father stay,” Zeke told the others, “or I leave.”

“Me too.”

Jacob’s voice came from behind the men, his announcement labored with what sounded like pain. His clenched jaw and frown recorded every bit of it as he worked his way through the crowd, then paused to lean against the wall to draw in a ragged breath. One of the men reached for him, to help in some way.

Jacob put out his hand to keep the man back. On his biceps was a tribal band, similar in design to Zeke’s, but without the eagle’s eye that designated the wearer as a seer. A tourniquet wound around Jacob’s upper thigh, directly above the bullet he’d taken. His jeans were wet with the blood he’d already lost, his skin damp and ashy, his handsome features—less rugged than Zeke’s—contorted with hurt.

Didn’t stop him. Younger than Zeke by a few years, Jacob kept limping toward his older brother, refusing any assistance. His dark hair, waist length and damp with perspiration, clung to his throat and back.

Zeke released Liz and went to Jacob, easily supporting his body. Though both men were tall and broad-shouldered, Zeke was more muscular.

“I’m all right,” Jacob panted.

He was hurting more than Liz could bear. She went to him.

Ignoring her, Zeke turned to her father. “Help him. Please.”

“I’ll do it,” she said.

“No.” Zeke pushed her hands away from Jacob. “Not you. Your father. Please, Dr. Munez.”

Upon reaching them, he sank to his knees and placed his hands on the bullet-torn jeans, Jacob’s wound. Air hissed through Jacob’s teeth; the muscles in his neck corded at the surge of power and heat, the healing force Liz knew was pouring from her father into him.

She watched in silence, feeling useless, not understanding Zeke’s refusal to let her heal. Had he believed her gift wasn’t strong enough to help Jacob? How was that possible? He’d watched her save his brother when Jacob had been far more injured, those bullets having ripped into his gut.

Despite the wounds, Liz had restored him to full health. Zeke had taken her then, along with Jacob, their thick cocks sliding into her mouth, stretching her cunt, burrowing into her anus. They hadn’t held back in the least. Neither had she, enjoying both men. Though not equally. Her heart had already belonged to Zeke. Always would.

Was that why he didn’t want her touching his brother? Zeke was again establishing his claim on her? One his people would always fight, with that battle eventually tearing him and her apart.

“How do you feel?” her father asked Jacob. He brought back his hands from the wound, which was closed now, nearly indistinct, as though it had never happened.

Jacob released a long, contented sigh. The kind one hears from a man who’s been given a powerful narcotic to blunt the worst sort of pain. “Great.” He tested his leg and huffed happily when it took his full weight. “Thanks.”

“Here.” Liz offered her arm to help her father to his feet.

“I have it,” Jacob said.

He didn’t glance her way. In fact, he hadn’t looked at her at all since he’d made his presence known. He finished removing the tourniquet, then assisted her father. As the older man stood, Jacob spoke to the others, determination replacing his previous pain. “If Zeke goes, so do I.”

“No,” Kele insisted. “I’m the one who should be banished.”

Everyone started talking at once.

“Quiet,” Zeke ordered. “This isn’t getting us anywhere.”

“You’re right,” Ike said from behind. “Let’s take a vote like we always do. I vote that everyone stays.”

Grim acceptance rather than joy rang in his words. Zeke was their leader, the most powerful seer of their clan, a man whose integrity they’d never questioned or doubted. Ike obviously didn’t want to lose a man like that, even if it meant having to put up with their enemies, which now included Kele.

The men beside Ike muttered their comments, looking as ambivalent as those who stood behind the women.

Although Isabel’s expression darkened, she said nothing.

Liz didn’t dare speak or move. She still believed that staying here would be next to impossible with so much animosity. However, going outside this stronghold meant she’d probably never see Zeke again. As awful as that was, Carreon was also a consideration. If he found her and her father, imprisonment and possibly torture awaited them. Once he knew they could reanimate, there would be no end to what he’d demand—no abomination he wouldn’t indulge in to make certain he got his way.

One of the young women cleared her throat loudly, as though she wanted to offer an opinion but wasn’t certain she should. Given her dewy skin and fresh features, she was barely out of her teens. At last, she said, “This might be a good thing.”

“In what way?” a stout female snapped.

The girl pulled in her shoulders but didn’t back down. “They could help us with the children when they get sick.”

“I don’t want them touching my kids,” the stout one countered.

“I do, if they can help them,” another commented. She appeared to be in her early thirties. “You can, can’t you?” she asked, her gaze moving from Liz to her father.

“As pediatricians,” Zeke answered. “What Dr. Munez did for his patients before Carreon imprisoned him. What Liz has done since she took over her father’s practice. They can help with the medicine they know—regular treatments. It’s too dangerous for them to use their healing gift on a child.”

Everyone started talking again, asking questions or complaining about a gift that wasn’t all it should have been. Something Liz had told Zeke early on when she’d warned him that her healing ability wasn’t infallible or the answer to every medical situation.

Zeke interrupted, “We’re voting now. Raise your hand if you want us to leave.”

Liz tensed, fearful of the outcome no matter what it was. If she could have fled without Zeke following, she would have forced herself to do so. Even when she believed he was her enemy, she’d never wanted to bring him such turmoil or pain.

The air was thick with coming sorrow. A moment passed, then another as the group exchanged glances. Finally, the stout woman raised her hand, followed by only two others. Isabel wasn’t one of them. She’d tightened her fists as though she’d suspected this result.

“It’s settled,” one of the older men said, his lined cheeks and pure-white hair making him older than Isabel. “We won’t speak of this again. They’re part of us now.”