Forged in Smoke (Red-Hot SEALs #3)

Once this was over, and the bad guys were behind bars and no longer interfering with her life, maybe she could talk Kait into undergoing some testing. If Kait really did have the ability to heal, there was bound to be a scientific or biological explanation for her gift. They just had to find it.

Of course, there was always the possibility that Mackenzie planned on doing some testing of his own—or at least the navy did. It didn’t take much imagination to envision the military’s interest in weaponizing Kait’s talent. If her touch could heal, it must have the potential to kill as well. Had any of the men broached the subject to her?

She frowned, staring absently at the wall. It might prove useful to nudge Kait aside when the opportunity arose and ask. The answer might tell her whether she could trust these men enough to fully disclose the Thrive generator’s secondary effects. They’d need to know this information if they located her team and launched a rescue.

She was so caught up in her thoughts she flinched when Rawls suddenly squatted in front of her.

“Hey,” he said, scanning her face. “How you doin’?”

She paused before answering to assess her heart’s beat and rhythm. Both felt stronger and more regular than they had before.

“I’m fine.” She groaned beneath her breath. She sounded like a broken record.

“How ’bout I have a look-see for myself?” With a reserved smile, he loosely circled her wrist, pressing two fingers against her pulse.

There was a distance to him that she hadn’t felt in a while. Not since the kitchen when she’d come to her senses to find herself sitting on his lap. She flushed slightly as images and sensation rolled through her, delineating all the other things they’d done while she’d been sitting on his lap.

“Your heartbeat feels strong. But you’re flushed,” he said, some of the reserve giving way to concern. “Maybe you should lie down. Rest for a while. Accordin’ to Jude, their base has a full medical facility. They’ll be able to check your heart out and refill your prescriptions.”

“Okay,” Faith said, watching the detachment solidify on his face again.

A sharp sting of loss rose. It was so strange—she’d only known the man for a week, and until yesterday, she hadn’t spent any time alone with him. There was nothing between them except a fragile friendship. There was no reason to feel like she’d lost something special.

Yet, she did.

“Although, I don’t think I need any medical attention. I feel pretty phenomenal considering I died less than an hour ago.” She held his gaze, willing him to recognize the apology. Which was beyond cowardly. He deserved the words. “I’m sorry. I should have believed you.”

He rocked back on his heels, intently studying her. And then his face softened. Heat flared, burned blue in his eyes.

“I promised myself somethin’ if you came back to me,” he said, his tone a cross between haunted and determined. His focus dropped to her mouth and his blue eyes started to glitter.

“What?” she asked, although from his intense concentration on her mouth, she could guess. A flush scorched her cheeks. “Reserved” certainly didn’t describe him now.

“This.” Rough hands rose to cup her hot cheeks and he lowered his head.

His lips were tender against hers. Gentle. Like she was breakable. Or fragile—to be handled with care.

She didn’t want gentle. She didn’t want temperate. She wanted that fiery rush of sensation he’d given her before. She wanted to feel him. Every aspect of him from tenderness to lust, and every shade of hunger between.

Her surroundings fading away, she offered a soft moan and opened her mouth, inviting him inside.

“Finally, it’s about fucking time. I don’t get what you see in the broad, but Jesus, just get her into a dark corner and out of those clothes already.”

The disgusting comment crashed into Faith’s head, disrupting the tantalizing, sensuous haze.

“Excuse me!” She jerked her mouth from Rawls’s and planted her palms against his chest, shoving him back. Twin volcanoes of embarrassment and fury spewed inside her.

Although the voice hadn’t sounded quite right, the asshole who’d ruined the mood had to be Mac. Nobody else was so loud and mouthy and grossly unpleasant.

“Faith . . .” There was the oddest look on Rawls’s face. Shock, only a hundredfold stronger.

“Look, I don’t care if he is your commander. I don’t have to put up with that kind of crap from anyone. Not even him,” Faith snapped, shooting to her feet.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Mac asked from across the hub. He sounded baffled. “I didn’t say, or do, a damn thing to you.”

Okay, maybe she’d jumped the gun a bit there. The two voices weren’t the same at all.

“Faith.” Rawls snagged her hand and drew her to his side, motioning Jude toward them with his other hand. “Sweetheart. That’s not Mac.”

“I know that now,” she told him impatiently. “But that doesn’t make the asshole who said it any less an asshole.”

Rawls choked on a shout of laughter and gave her a hard, quick hug. “That you got right, darlin’.”

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