Salvation: Saving Setora Book Seven

by Dark, Raven

  I shook my head. We’d been traveling. A hundred implications hit me then. Plans had been made. The men had been on the move, headed somewhere with purpose. And I hadn’t known any of it. I was the General, and I knew none of what had happened with my fucking club for three days.

  Son of a bitch. I’d been the General of the Dark Legion for almost fifteen years, and for the first time, my club had been forced to act without me.

  I closed my eyes, not that it made a damn bit of difference. I pushed back the wave of emotions that swamped me. Those emotions attacked like poison, some of them childish, some of them frighteningly dark, others caustic as acid. I wanted to destroy them, cut them all out of me. So as I’d done when Steel had nearly died, I shut them all down. I was the machine again, without emotions that got in the way, rational and unfeeling enough to make Hawk proud.

  “Is Hawk…?” I trailed off, unable to even bring myself to ask what needed to be asked. Asking that would have made what was happening too real.

  “Yeah,” Doc said softly. “Hawk’s looking after things. Everyone is doing fine.”

  Everything was fine. Hawk was in charge. Relief filled me. I knew I’d made the right choice in naming him as my Second. But the gratitude I felt toward my Under General mixed with an unexpectedly sharp sense of loss.

  “Sheriff, are you thirsty? Hungry? You haven’t eaten anything in days.”

  I ignored his question, keeping my eyes on whatever ceiling was above me. “Where are we now? Where are we going?”

  Doc sighed in irritation. Because I wouldn’t eat, I assumed. “We’re staying in the caves in Tapor San, in Zone Nine. We’re going to the Temple of Umbi. Right now, we’re a little more than a week from the temple. Hawk thought—”

  “Umbi? Hawk’s temple? The Yantu?”

  “Yes. Hawk was hoping his master might be able to help us figure out what’s going on with Setora. And help us get your eyes back to normal.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Fantastic.”

  Was this what things had come to, that we were resorting to looking to Yantu mysticism to solve our problems now? Okay, so I wasn’t completely opposed to the idea, not when it came to Setora. Other avenues we’d explored in terms of stopping Julian from using her as his puppet had proven all but useless. If Hawk’s master was all we had left for answers, so be it, as long as it got our woman back to normal. But me? The idea of relying on some ancient Yantu mumbo jumbo to get my sight back pissed me the hell off.

  Doc had explained what Damien’s fucking doctor had done to my eyes. Unfortunately, we were out of options, and I hated to admit it, but Hawk’s plan was smart. I would have done the same thing, eventually—after the obligatory arguments and griping. I loved him for already having put us on the road toward the temple without needing my input. I also hated that he didn’t need it.

  I licked my lips. “All right. What’s my prognosis, Doc?”

  “I just checked you over before you came to. Your pupils still aren’t reacting to the light at all. Your fever’s broken, but you still have a touch of pneumonia. I’ve got you on a course of antibiotics, so you should be feeling much better soon. Lots of fluids and rest are vital.”

  Pneumonia. Great. It was Ryman’s Fever all over again. I’d sworn I’d never allow myself to be that helpless. And now I couldn’t fucking see.

  If not for Setora, I’d have wished Damien was still alive so I could cut his head off.

  “You need to eat and get some fluids into you that aren’t intravenous.” I heard him stand.

  “Doc, forget the food. I’m not hungry.” The thought of eating or drinking in front of him made me physically ill, and not because of the pneumonia.

  “Bear,” Doc called, ignoring me.

  “Doc, don’t.” I reached for him and grasped at air before his boots scuffled across what sounded like a dirt floor.

  Fucking damn it!

  Doc and Bear spoke quietly, too soft for me to hear, before Doc returned and sat beside me. It was disconcerting to think that I only knew that because the blankets shifted beside me, his hip against my side.

  “I don’t want food, Doc.”

  “Tough. I’m not leaving until you eat.”

  I didn’t know whether to smile or smack him. I’d already hit him once. “Stubborn asshole.”

  “Setora’s been asking for you,” he said carefully. “She’s worried about you.”

  “Fuck.” It pissed me the hell off that her worry almost made me smile. “Tell her to stop it. And keep her the hell away from me. She’s not seeing me like this.”

  “Done.” His hand clapped my shoulder.

  The blankets shifted once more. A moment later, he sat again. “Here. Take this first. It’s water.”

  I felt him put the cool metal of a mug against my lips. Helping me drink, because I couldn’t see to hold the damn thing and too weak to drink out of it on my own.

  Shit. Humiliation like I’d never felt before in my life stabbed through me, caustic and deep. I was the fucking General of the world’s most feared Motorcycle Club, meant to ride the wind like it was my personal bitch and lead men into battle with the worst of the pirates this world had, and Doc expected me to sit here being spoon-fed like some kind of invalid? Fuck that shit. I’d starve first.

  I turned my head away. “Get out of here, Doc. You don’t need to be here.”

  “Nope.” Doc’s voice was suddenly sickeningly pleasant and upbeat. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Brother. Drink.”

  My teeth clenched. “I’m not thirsty.”

  “Okay.” He drew a long breath. “We’ll start with something easier. Where were you before, Sheriff? Before you woke up?”

  He called that easier?

  I said nothing, just stared at the infinite blackness.

  “Sheriff, talk to me. You were screaming. I need to know you’re okay.”

  I sighed and put my head back. “You’re not going to back off, are you?”

  “No.”

  I ran my hands through my hair, forcing myself to think back. The sooner I told him, the sooner he would leave me alone. “I was ten. Sick as a dog. Deetry, that old badger shaman, was there.”

  “You were dreaming about the time you had Ryman’s.”

  I nodded. “They thought I was going to die, so that ancient fucker showed up. My mother had... she didn’t think I’d make it either.”

  Doc didn’t say anything, just taking in my words. Listening like the friend he was.

  “Then Deetry…” I drew a breath. “He turned into Damien. My mother turned into…”

  “Into?” he pressed.

  “Setora,” I said and tucked my chin. “She turned into Setora. I got so confused. I didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t. Damien was trying to take both of them. And then he was torturing me again.”

  Doc cleared his throat roughly. “I’m sorry, man. Fuck.”

  The emotion in his voice nearly killed me, and that made me mad. “Don’t be. I don’t need it.”

  I heard him sigh again. Almost heard him rein in his patience. “Sounds like your mind’s trying to heal itself too, just like your body. But that’s not going to happen if you don’t eat. What kind of a doctor would I be if I let you starve to death?”

  The humor sounded forced. He put the mug to my lips again. I pushed it away. “Don’t worry about me, Doc. Just go.”

  “I can hear your stomach rumbling from here, and your throat sounds like sandpaper. If you won’t let me do it, then here.” His warm hand took mine, meaning to put the mug in it for me.

  I let him get as far as closing my fingers around the mug. Then I threw it across the cave. It hit a wall with a satisfying metallic clatter and a splash.

  “Get. Out.”

  “Sheriff, you can’t lead again if you don’t get well.”

  Lead again? Just the mention of that pissed me the fuck off. What kind of fantasy world were my men living in? Fuck, they weren’t even my men anymore. They knew the rules. I no
longer had the right to even think of them that way. Suddenly, Doc seeing me this way, his even being there, was unbearable.

  “Get the fuck out, Doc.”

  “Sheriff—”

  I groped for his cut, found it, shook him hard and made my voice deadly. “Get the fuck out of my face.”

  Doc wrenched himself free and let out a string of curses. He left, and I heard him growling something about my being a stubborn fuck to whoever was out there.

  Son of a bitch. I’d get my fucking sight back, and when I did, I’d find the demon of a man who was after Setora and kill him the way I should have killed Damien. I’d get my sight back, but until then, my men and the woman who had my damn heart in her hands wouldn’t see me. Not like this.

  Damien had stolen my mother, he’d tried to steal Setora, and then he’d stolen my sight. He’d taken enough from me. He wouldn’t take my MC too.

  * * *

  The next day crawled by at a snail’s pace. All I wanted was to be left alone, away from everyone, away from Setora. Somewhere my men couldn’t see what had become of their leader, and where my woman couldn’t see what had become of her master.

  No such luck. The men traveled in three carriages, the bikes crammed into the backs. Setora alternated carriages whenever we stopped, spending time with each of her men in turn. Taking care of them and offering them the closeness I knew she wanted to offer me. Only I wouldn’t let her. I wouldn’t let her anywhere near me, or at least no closer than the distance between one carriage and another. To ensure this, I stayed in a carriage with Doc, Bear, and two of Hawk’s men. She wasn’t permitted into mine.

  That angered her, and I knew it, but I didn’t give a fuck. A woman’s master was supposed to be strong enough to protect her. I couldn’t protect her, so I’d settle for being strong enough to stay away from her.

  Besides, if I went near her now, it would be too tempting to unleash all the anger and darkness on her that was slowly building in me. Building until it threatened to explode.

  If I went near her now, I wouldn’t have been able to keep from pounding myself into her, and she deserved better than that.

  A man never let anything get him down or take from him what was his. To allow such a thing to happen not only made him weak, it stripped him of the right to call himself a man.

  A pirate’s crew, his cut, his title, his women, his family, his friends; those were his, and except for the General, no one had the right to take them away. If a man couldn’t protect and hold onto what belonged to him, then he didn’t deserve to own them in them in the first place. Some would argue such thinking was cruel, but it wasn’t. Not for a boy destined to wear a patch. I learned to be strong. I knew how to push past the worst of pain and loss and fear to keep going. Because that’s what a pirate’s life, what MC life, did if you let it. It took and took and took, unless you knew how to hold on to what you had.

  I was a man fit for a General’s patch. My past, the losses and the gains, forged me into the strongest of men. For a man like me, letting anyone, and especially my woman or my men, see me in less than top condition was not an option.

  Steel could afford to almost lose his life in front of Setora and his Brothers. To lie in a bed fighting for his life and have everyone wait on him for days the way he had after the fight with Saketh and the Hellhounds. Pretty Boy could afford to almost lose his marbles because he’d almost lost his best friend. Because we’d been through so much shit that we’d almost lost Setora. Every man had a breaking point, and he’d hit his. But Pretty Boy and Steel weren’t the leaders of the Dark Legion. Neither of them was the man everyone had to look to for direction and stability. Doc was right, we weren’t there, yet. I was still the General, and a General didn’t let anyone see him like this.

  Which is why no one except Doc, Bear, and two of Hawk’s guards were allowed near me. I was a king temporarily out of commission, and in the Old World, as with the new, wounded kings sequestered themselves alone.

  Where they handled their pain in peace.

  But the truth was, there were darker reasons for my isolation. As long as I was away from them, I couldn’t hurt them. Setora might have been a slave, born and bred to take her master’s pain and the brunt of his anger, but she had proven herself to be more than that.

  Fuck, had she.

  The woman held this club together more than she’d ever know. Sometimes singlehandedly. She’d done the kinds of things a woman only did in the Old World. Back when the General’s woman was called an Old Lady.

  Yeah, she deserved more than what I could be for her.

  Somehow, I’d see again, and when I did, I’d unleash the beast in me on her. When I could see the pleasure and the pain on her face and know I had skillfully and expertly taken her there.

  Over the two days that passed since we’d left camp, the necessity of my isolation from her and from my men continued to drive itself home with new clarity. It happened in small ways, little things that occurred, piling themselves on like bricks laid on my chest until their weight became too hard to ignore.

  “All right, everybody out,” Hawk called after the carriage stopped at a fueling station. The front door of a carriage up ahead opened, then closed. “Come on, Kitten. Pit stop. Make sure your hair stays covered.”

  “Oh, thank Creation. I wouldn’t have made it another minute.” Setora’s voice rang out, sweet as apple pie. My heart ached at the sound of it.

  I knew we were at a fueling station because I could hear the station’s owner shout at Hawk that power lines one and two were available. Judging by the coolness of the air, we were out of the desert, and it was probably early evening, putting us a few hours from our next camp at the edge of Zone Eleven.

  “Doc, you want me to take Sheriff?” Pretty Boy’s voice.

  Oh, for fuck’s sake. Pretty Boy expected me to let him lead me to the facilities like a leashed dog to a tree. Until now, by sheer luck, I’d managed to avoid such an exercise in humiliation. There’d always been a tree or woods around close enough that I could manage without help.

  Doc’s front passenger side door closed. “No, I’ll take him. Go ahead and get the power lines hooked up to the carriages.”

  Oh, hell no. The very idea that I couldn’t even take a piss on my own sent a bolt of helplessness through me so intense I wanted to punch him in the throat. Him and Pretty Boy for offering to take me.

  I scrambled out of the back of the carriage, feeling for the opening and the door and jumping out. I almost missed the lip of the carriage back and fell on my face. I would have, if Doc hadn’t grabbed my arm.

  Good old fucking Doc.

  I ripped my arm out of his hand. “I don’t need your help, Doc.”

  How the hell I was getting there without breaking my neck, I didn’t know, but I wasn’t going to let Doc do every little thing for me from here until Umbi. I had to figure it out on my own, and besides, I didn’t see why I couldn’t just go by the side of the road.

  “Sheriff, you do so need my help. Come on.” Doc took my elbow and started across gravel that crunched underfoot.

  I pulled my arm free again and sent my unseeing gaze in his direction. “What, Doc, are you gonna hold my dick for me too?”

  The rest of the men had fallen silent. I didn’t have to see shit to know they were all looking at us. At me. Oran, one of Hawk’s guards, coughed near me.

  “Sheriff, please let one of the men help you. Or me.”

  Setora. Oh, fuck, my woman was right there; I could feel her right beside me. If I was a fucking woman, I’d have turned beet red. There were several sharp breaths. The men knew what she’d just done, even if she didn’t see it.

  I clenched my jaw, more to keep from swearing at her than anything else, found her nape with my fingers and felt her tense. Let her feel the danger pounding through me. Then I squeezed just hard enough to make a point, hard enough that I heard her gasp, and slid my hand off her.

  “Someone,” I rasped, too calm. “Someone just…”
/>
  “Come here, Princess.” Pretty Boy’s voice reminded me of a man telling her to back away from a rabid dog. “Over here. Let’s get you taken care of.”

  She sighed and gravel crunched as the two of them walked away.

  The chaos of the crew going about their business, getting supplies and fuel, and relieving themselves resumed. I turned and found a nearby tree, feeling the bark under my palm, and did my thing.

  “See?” I told Doc when I was back at the carriage where he waited. “Not hard.”

  Doc grumbled under his breath as I climbed in, and then slammed the door once everyone was ready. He handed me one of the sandwiches Blade had packed before we’d left.

  With my teeth, I tore open the paper wrapper, spitting out the excess. “You trust me to eat this by myself, Doc, or do you want to feed it to me like a baby?”

  I heard Doc get out of the carriage, his boots scrunching on the rocks outside. “Hawk,” Doc gritted out near the front of the carriage. “Hawk, I’m gonna kill him, I swear.”

  Whatever Hawk said, I couldn’t make it out, but it sounded like reassurance.

  It went like that for the rest of the day until we reached camp. Doc or Bear leaped up at every damn opportunity, just as they had for the last two days, so eager to help me do everything from tie my damn boots to taking a drink. Setora said nothing more to me after that pit stop. I had the impression she was keeping her distance as much as possible, and not just because the men told her to. She was afraid of me. Well, she’d always been a smart girl.

  When we stopped for the night, the air had cooled with the lengthening evening, the only thing inside my blackened world that told me it was night at all.

  And that’s when it happened. It was a small thing, tiny, even, but it hit home with the impact of a punch to the gut.

  My world was changing.

  The vehicles had stopped. Bear was talking to Doc, the two of them out of the carriage now. I shook off Oran’s hand for help and climbed out to join the rest of my crew.

  “Everyone out,” Hawk said. “We’ll use those two caves over there. Oran, Rig, take first watch, one on either end of the camp. Keep your eyes peeled. Everyone else, set up camp. Setora can help you. Doc, we’ll use that cave over there for an infirmary for Sheriff.”