Chapter1
LIV
The warmthof the dying rebel’s blood spilled over my fingers. He’d taken six bullets to the chest. Behind him, more injured men gathered in the dimly lit room. My husband, a total prick who everyone called Mountain, did a quick triage and lined the rebels up in order of urgency—not because he cared whether any of them died, but because dead men couldn’t pay.
One thousand galactic credits. That was the going rate for my services. More specifically, it was how much Mountain charged each wounded rebel who knocked on our door.
Those who failed to pay after services were rendered never made it out of the building alive. Mountain was an asshole like that.
I despised him with every fiber of my being.
Blasts rang out in the distance and the ground quaked with a violent fury. Apparently, the battle was still raging.
How many more injured rebels would show up tonight?
“Get to work, Liv,” Mountain snapped. Impatience radiated from his bulky six-foot-six frame. A vein in his temple pulsed as he glared at me, prompting a chill to skitter down my spine. He seemed particularly agitated this evening, which didn’t bode well for me. I tried not to think about what might happen once the patients cleared out.
I pressed my hands more firmly to the dying man’s chest and closed my eyes, trying to focus. A few seconds later, heat and light emanated from my palms. Though my eyes remained closed, the sudden chorus of gasps in the room told me that my hands were indeed glowing.
Magic. I used to think I possessed magic. That was, until a stunned doctor informed me that I was half-Vaxxlian.Your senses—vision, hearing, and smell, are more enhanced than a full-blooded human’s. Some Vaxxlians also possess healing gifts in varying degrees, which explains your unnatural abilities. What a marvel you are!
A marvel. I didn’t feel like a marvel. I was a prisoner. Mountain’s captive/wife/goldmine. Not a day passed that I didn’t regret trusting him and falling for him. What a fool I was. A lonely, naïve fool.
Beneath my hands, the raspy, gurgling breaths of the bullet-riddled man gradually became smooth and regular. Perfectly healthy. I peeked one eye open and watched as the blood ceased flowing and the holes in his chest sealed up as though he’d never been shot.
“Next!” Mountain called out.
Before I could blink, an assistant escorted the healed rebel to the counter where the clerk, a gorgeous brunette named Celia, sat waiting to take payment. Celia was banging Mountain. They thought I didn’t know.
Another assistant wheeled the next patient over to me. After I cleansed my hands in the nearby sink, I got to work, surveying the rebel’s wounds as I tried not to grimace at the grotesque burns on his face.
Hours passed as I healed man after man. Even a few female rebels came to see me. Apparently, tonight’s battle was a bloody one. There was fighting nearly every night in Seattle as warring factions of rebels tried to take control of the city. Some evenings, only one or two patients would show up, but other nights, like tonight, we would receive a surge of injured rebels.
Only rebels. No government soldiers. Mountain’s guards killed any government soldiers who dared to come close. He held influence with rebel leaders and aspired to hold a political office one day—once the already-crumbling American government officially collapsed.
How long until that happened?
And which group of rebels would claim victory in the end?
Healing one patient didn’t usually drain my energy. But healing dozens of them, assembly line style, left me exhausted, dizzy, and sick to my stomach. I longed for the fighting to end. I also longed to escape Mountain and get the hell away from civilization, period.
More than anything, I wanted to be alone. I wanted to rest.
I wanted to live in a safe place where I wouldn’t have to walk on eggshells day after day just so I wouldn’t anger my so-called husband.
Husband. What a joke. I didn’t love him, and he sure as hell didn’t love me. Whatever he felt for me was twisted. Dark, possessive, and ugly. I’d only agreed to marry him out of fear.
ThemagicI possessed didn’t extend to myself. I could heal others, but I couldn’t heal myself. I’d tried. So many times, I’d tried and failed. The bruises he gave me had to heal on their own time.
“Hurry up,” Mountain thundered. He hovered over me as I tried to send healing vibrations into my current patient, a young woman who’d sustained a blow to the head.
His micromanaging fuckery caused me to lose concentration, and the woman groaned as her head rolled from side to side.
I swallowed my irritation and pasted a smile on my face as I looked into my husband’s cold blue eyes. “I need some space to work. Please.”
He growled and curled his hands into fists, but finally stomped off to greet a new group of patients who were being brought in on stretchers.
I stared at the scene, aghast. I’d already healed over twenty people tonight, and my head was throbbing as sickness continued to rise in my throat.