by Dark, Raven
The men answered in the affirmative, setting about their tasks as quickly and as easily as if I had given the orders. I heard Setora do the same, then heard her kiss him. A strange mix of pride in Hawk and bitter resentment toward him sliced at me. And with the men for the easy way they followed his lead.
I wanted to rip the door off the carriage, kick something, anything to vent my frustration, but I couldn’t even do that. I couldn’t fucking see what damage that would do to someone. I might end up kicking someone in the balls without meaning to, or worse, end up hurting Setora with a flying door.
“Got it, Hawk.” Doc grabbed my arm quickly as if he meant to do it before I got too far from him.
I wanted to throw his hand off me, but I couldn’t. I had no idea where we were or what the landscape looked like. Whether we were on flat land or if there was a slope right in front of me, waiting for me to end up tumbling down it ass over fucking tea kettle. So I stood there like a damn moron, waiting for him to shut and lock the doors to the carriage.
Waiting for Doc to lead me down a dirt path.
Then for him to warn me when there was a rock or tree root in my way.
To guide me around boxes and whatever else someone had put in our path.
“Here, have a seat until the guys set up the infirmary.”
I lowered myself onto a log, somehow resisting the urge to twist away and, instead, letting him help me down onto it.
The men worked around me, the cacophony of camp being set up filling my ears. Men laughing and joking, shouting at each other for this or that box of supplies. Talking about who would stay with whom. Hawk continued to give the orders, his calm, stoic tone so at odds with mine it sounded strange. The sounds of such normal, day to day work should have comforted me, and on some level, they did. But as I sat there doing and saying nothing, those same sounds hit me like nails on an Old World chalkboard.
No one spoke to me, and I knew why. They were tired of getting their heads bitten off. And yet, I could feel them looking at me again and again. I could sense it in the awkward pauses between conversation, in the way someone would suddenly stop unpacking and then start again.
I tuned it out, retreating into the ever-growing void of my own consciousness, my own painful awareness of my too fast changing world.
All of them wanted to say something, but they didn’t. Out of worry or awkwardness?
I remembered something Savage told me once. He’d told me how some people reacted when they realized he couldn’t hear. When they initially met him, they were all smiles and handshakes and pats on the back, ready with easy conversations and questions about this or that. Then, as soon as he told them he was deaf, they changed. He called it The Dreaded Pause.
It was that horrible moment that was both infinite and yet infinitesimal, he said, where they froze, mouth open in mid-sentence, looking as if an unseen sorcerer had just put a freezing spell over them. That moment of panic when they didn’t know how to react. Sometimes it lasted barely a second. Other times it stretched on forever. For the first time, I knew exactly what he meant.
The Dreaded Fucking Pause.
Here, I couldn’t see them pausing, couldn’t see them struggling for what to do or say, but I could feel it with every beat that passed, every time I knew someone looked at me or had anything to say.
Around me, the commotion of camp being set up continued. Hawk gave the last few orders, and as I listened to him, that’s when it sank in.
If Tahmi had come upon us now, forcing us to fight, I’d have been lost. I wouldn’t have been able to pick up a sword or give orders when I didn’t know where the men were or who was doing what. If he went after Setora, unless one of my men protected her, she’d be carted off to Julian. In a battle, I was as useless as a broken blade.
Damn it.
I ran fingers over the General’s patch on the front of my cut, feeling the letters stenciled there in thread. Loss tore into me, cutting to the bone. The sooner I took action, the better. It was only fair to the men, to Hawk, and to Setora.
It fucking killed me, gutted me to do this, but it was time I gave Hawk what I should have given him days ago.
When the infirmary was set up, Doc walked me inside, but I only half noticed, my thoughts spinning with the inevitable. When the rest of the camp was set up, Doc tried to get me to come and sit outside with the men, but I refused to subject them to what would inevitably be a circus act. Instead, I sat on the make-shift bed of furs, my back to the cave wall, and asked him to bring Hawk in. Doc agreed, then reluctantly left me alone to eat in peace.
I finished my meal in darkened silence, thinking. Forcing myself to face facts. If I’d had any doubt that now was the time, the last of it vanished when I reached for my mug and it clattered to the cave floor with a splash.
“Damn it!” I shouted.
Yeah, if Tahmi showed up now, I’d be a real impressive warrior, wouldn’t I?
“Sheriff? You wanted to see me?” Hawk’s voice was low and quiet, close.
At least he didn’t play the Dreaded Pause game with me. One of a million reasons why he was my Second.
“Yeah, Hawk. Got everything settled out there?”
“Everything and everyone is doing what they’re supposed to, yes.”
Hawk was moving about the cave, sliding crates around by the sound of it.
“How are you holding up, Sheriff?”
“I’m holding.” I wiped my face with both hands, suddenly exhausted from the day of travel. “How was it, managing your first club meeting?”
“It was fine. I’m sure Doc told you where we’re headed?”
“Yeah. We’re going to find some answers from the temple where you trained, maybe find some kind of magical elixir only a fucking Yantu would have access to.” I paused, trying to tone down my sarcasm. “Doc said you mapped out the whole trip and everything. You did good, Hawk. Real good.”
“Shucks, General, thanks.” The smile in his voice eased some of my tension. It was familiar, our usual banter.
I lifted my eyes to a ceiling I couldn’t see. “Will they help?”
“The Yantu? There’s a a chance. I know you probably think it’s more ‘Yantu mumbo jumbo,’ as you like to say, but at this point, we don’t have a lot of options. We find a cure for you and figure out how to help Setora. I trust the Yantu, Sheriff.”
“Good to hear.” Swallowing down the bitterness of guilt when I heard my woman’s name, I went straight to the point. “Then you and the others can stop acting like I’m going to break at any moment.”
“Sheriff.” Hawk struggled—it was in his tone. This shit was hard for him, I knew that. But fuck him. I knew what was best.
“Setora wants to see you, Sheriff.”
“That’s not going to happen.” My eyes turned to the direction of his voice. After a moment, I asked, “How is she?”
“She’s how you’d expect her to be. She’s worried sick about you. And she blames herself for what happened.”
“Well, she’ll have to get used to disappointment. It’s less than five days until we get there, right? She’ll see me when this is all over. By the time I’m done with her, she’ll wish for another week without me.”
“Something tells me you didn’t call me in here to ask about my managerial skills, Sheriff,” Hawk said.
“Right.” I cleared my throat. “Well, since this is only a temporary thing, I don’t want you to get too used to this.”
“Too used to what?”
“Get over here, Hawk.”
I heard him cross the room, felt the give of the furs as he sat near my out-stretched legs.
Reaching under the pillow behind my head, I pulled out my gavel and set it down on the blanket between us. The General’s gavel, the symbol of my leadership and authority over my club.
It cost me a lot to hand the gavel over, something I wasn’t willing to think too hard on. I was the General, and my feelings weren’t to be weighed in this. For the good of the club, this had t
o be done.
“Hawk—”
“No.” He laid his hand on mine, and with the other, his fingers pushed the gavel’s handle into my palm, holding both tightly. “No. We’re not doing this now. Sheriff, we will fix this.”
“Hawk, take it. You have to. A man who can’t ride, can’t lead. You know the law.”
“I know. But this is temporary. You’re not making it official. Not yet. It would be too much like giving up, and we’re a long way from that.”
I scowled. “That’s not how it’s supposed to work.”
“I don’t care. I’m not taking the gavel. Not like this.”
I drew back at the anger in his voice. Mulling it over.
“You’re sure, Hawk?” Why was he passing up the right to something that was his? Was he trying to ease my ego? Humor me? Or was he just being Hawk, removed and logical?
“Yes, I’m sure, damn it. I will act in your place, but I won’t wear the badge or hold the gavel unless…” He paused, and I wished to the Maker I could see his eyes. “Unless there’s no way to bring your sight back.”
I nodded to the dark. “All right then. But as you said, this is temporary. You’re missing the opportunity of a lifetime here, Hawk.”
Fuck, I was a bastard. I didn’t have it in me to care, though.
Hawk sighed. “Maybe. But your ornery ass will die eventually, and then your title is all mine.”
“Fair enough. Now go on. We have an early start, so get the fuck outta here and let me sleep.”
“Sheriff…” he started but didn’t finish. He clapped me firmly on the shoulder, then stalked out of the infirmary.
I may have been behaving as if this whole mess was barely a bump in the road, but I knew Hawk well enough to know he saw through my bullshit mask.
In that moment, all I wanted was to lose myself in my woman and forget about the rest of the world. Too bad being near me wasn’t anywhere close to safe for her right now. It wasn’t safe for anyone.
I will see again. Fuck, I will.
Chapter 4
Tether
We’d traveled for what seemed like years. The Yantu temple was still a few days out, and we were all hot and tired. After leaving that first camp, each day of travel grew longer and longer, until we only stopped hours after the sun had set.
We kept a fast pace, tirelessly so. We all knew that each moment out on the road posed the risk of being discovered by Commander Tahmi and his men. Julian’s men. It was a risk, but we had to get to the temple, and soon.
The days of travel wore on forever, but at least I didn’t have to worry about my dreams, the nightmares involving Julian. On the contrary, I couldn’t recall dreaming at all. The medicine Doc and the now-dead Doctor Olan had prescribed was working. At least the lack of dreams offered some sense of normalcy.
And yet the world was far from normal, because now it was Sheriff who had the nightmares. Moans and heartbreaking screams filled the night, often waking us up. I hated those dreams, hated imagining what my master saw while he slept.
At some point, I begged Doc to give Sheriff something, anything, even what I took at night, so long as it gave Sheriff some relief. But Doc had shaken his head adamantly, refusing to give in. In the General’s case, the dreams were necessary, Doc had said. Those nightmares were his mind’s way of processing everything that had happened.
They were the only way to deal with the torture Damien had put him through. With the mental and physical damage. Not to mention, they were necessary in order for Sheriff to deal with something that seemed harder for him to face than what Damien had done—his blindness.
The latter hovered like a dark cloud over us wherever we went. In the carriages, during our breaks, while we camped, while we slept, it pressed down on us, oppressive and inescapable. No one but Doc discussed it, and only when he had no choice. It was as though no one wanted to acknowledge it.
I could feel the men’s avoidance of it, huge and horrifying.
For myself, I wasn’t just afraid that he may never see again. Sheriff was a difficult person to relate to when he was healthy, but now he was downright caustic. He wouldn’t talk to anyone, and when he did, it was only to snap at us or highlight the fact that he was useless. My master was changing, becoming someone I hardly knew, and that terrified me as much as his condition.
Watching a man I…cared so much about disappear inside himself more and more each day was almost too much to bear. That’s when the what-ifs repeated in an endless loop inside my mind.
What if he never recovered his sight?
What if he never accepted that outcome?
What if there was something I could’ve done to stop Damien?
What if this was it for him and me?
What if he pushed me away for good?
“Princess, come on. Let’s get you washed up.” Pretty Boy rubbed my arm, his warm hand sliding up to my nape. “Hawk said there’s a creek near here we can use.”
I’d been sitting on a boulder, staring out into the early dawn sky, asking the Maker for some kind of guidance. Asking for a sign, something to keep hoping for. I was sick of wishing for something that was beginning to feel increasingly out of reach.
I nodded, took his hand and kissed it.
Over the past few days, Pretty Boy had grown increasingly quiet. He seemed to be retreating to a place so deep inside himself, a place so removed that it could have rivaled Hawk’s Fortress. Such emotional distance wasn’t something I’d ever seen from my blond master, and it worried me.
As we walked into the misty morning, the tall grass swished against our legs. We had camped in an open field, as far away from the main roads as we could. According to Hawk, today and tomorrow’s leg of the journey would take us through Long Grass, a wide stretch of flat, grassy plains. It was beautiful out here, clean and clear, but we’d lost the benefit of hiding in forests and caves. We wouldn’t have that advantage again until we reached the foot of the Kyres Mountains. Once there, we’d be in higher elevations until, at last, we’d arrive in the village of Ran Tama, where the Yantu temple waited.
“Did you get any sleep?” Pretty Boy asked, taking me out of my reverie.
“Yes, Master. Not much, but enough. Actually, I was eager to get back on th—”
“Hey, PB! Hold up.”
We turned around, and I saw Steel jogging toward us, holding a towel and a backpack in one arm. He looked like a kid excited to be playing outside with the other kids for the day after the chores were done. A very large kid. I giggled.
“Petal, what you laughing at, huh?” Steel shoved the backpack and towels at Pretty Boy, then swept me up into his arms as if I were a doll.
“Put me down, Master!” I laughed, feeling my maudlin mood melt away.
“Not a chance.” Steel grabbed my nape and kissed me long and hard on the lips. I slid my arms around him and groaned into his mouth, every inch of my skin growing hot.
Steel’s tongue teased mine until my sex clenched in a way it hadn’t in days. Over the last week, I’d been feeling disconnected from my men, but kissing Steel restored that sense of oneness with my Masters, with the club, reminding me I was still theirs.
By the time Steel broke the kiss, my head was spinning.
He set me on my feet and then smacked my ass. “Come, on, let’s get you out of those clothes, Petal.”
Pretty Boy barked out a laugh. It was good to hear them sounding like their usual selves, kidding around and flirtatious. I had no idea how much I’d missed it until now.
We found the creek. It was about ten feet across and wound around the land like a snake. I sat down on the dusty bank and took off my boots while the guys did the same.
Thank the Maker Hawk had spotted this creek. Now that T-Man wasn’t in our party anymore, the time spent scouting for areas to bathe and such was at a minimum. Hawk’s duties had now tripled since Sheriff wasn’t leading the men. It was left to Steel and Pretty Boy to get the others in line, foraging for food and breaking camp.
As if Steel’s stomach read my thoughts, I heard it rumble from here. I raised a brow, and he grinned, patting his naked belly.
“Fuck, I can’t wait to get a decent meal. I’ve about had it with stew and jerky.”
“Me too. And I want wine.” Pretty Boy’s voice sounded muffled through his shirt going over his head. “I miss my liquor, man.” He threw the shirt on top of his cut and boots, leaving his pants on.
I followed them to the edge of the river and dipped my toe in, shivering at the cold.
“Hurry it up, Princess.” Pretty Boy glanced back at me, nodding to the water. When I didn’t wade in fast enough, he trudged back to the shore, then hoisted me over his shoulder like a caveman and ran into the water, splashing cold drops everywhere.
I squealed in delight and kicked. My worries slid away, and for the first time in days, I felt free and happy, as if my men had chased off a dark cloud that had followed us all the way from Damien’s compound.
Pretty Boy set me down waist-deep in the water, and I splashed him hard in the face.
“Fuck! That’s cold!” He shivered, shaking himself and laughing. “You’re gonna get it, Princess. Come here.”
I giggled and tried to run from him, straight for Steel. I hid behind him. “Steel, Master help me!”
Pretty Boy and I raced around Steel, chasing each other and splashing. As soon as Pretty Boy got close to him, Steel pushed a tsunami-sized wave of water at him, drowning him in cold and wet. Pretty Boy jumped on him and shoved his head under the water.
We horsed around like this for some time before we soaped up and rinsed off. I wished this time with them, this carefree time, could last forever, but I knew it couldn’t. Reality still waited for us back up on the shore.
“Pretty Boy, Steel.” Hawk’s voice carried over our shouting and laughing. “Come on, guys, breakfast is ready, and we need to head out as soon as we’re done.”
