by Jessi Gage
Pitch blackness settled over her like a second cloak.
“I’m starving,” he said as he lowered her onto a soft bed.
Leaves crackled as her weight compressed a welcoming padding of animal skins atop bracken. She settled in with a sigh, surrounded by the scent of clean bedfurs and Riggs. Och, she would be content to lie here for a week and not move.
“I’m going to hunt for myself first.” His voice was close to her. She could see nothing but felt the warmth and substance of him wonderfully near. “Then I’ll cook for you. Can you wait a little longer?”
Good. He would see to himself first. As a good protector should. One could not protect if one did not keep strong.
“I’ve gone longer than a day without food before. I’ll survive. But you’ve fought and bled today. You need fresh blood to replace what you’ve lost.”
Earlier, it had disturbed her to see Riggs return from hunting covered in blood. Tonight, she craved blood for him. She’d noticed the moon reflecting glassy hunger in his eyes as he’d dragged the logboat into its hiding place and the way his skin stretched tight over his cheekbones. He needed fresh meat. Blood. Viscera. Whatever a wolf-man consumed. She wanted him to have all he needed. Always.
“Go. Take as long as you need. I’ll likely be asleep before you set foot out of the cave, I’m so weary.”
She squeezed the burning muscle between her neck and shoulder. The rowing had been a welcome activity, but she’d pay for it tomorrow with soreness. At least they’d have the next day to rest—Riggs had assured her they’d be safe for at least that long.
“I’ll return as soon as I can.” She heard his clothing rub as he shifted. “I might go far to find what I need. Keep your knife in your hand. And use this if you need to.” A clunking sound must have been his axe meeting the stone floor. “Do not make any noise. And do not leave the cave for any reason.”
“You said the trackers wouldn’t find this place. Not so soon.”
“I’m not worried about the trackers. There are wolves and lynxes in this area. I’ve seen bear not far from here. I won’t lose you to a wild animal.”
She reached out until her hand cupped his cheek. His beard was cool and coarse, so terribly masculine. She stroked her thumb up and over the skin of his cheekbones. Even to her blind touch, the bone felt more prominent than it should. “Go on with you. I’ll be fine.”
Riggs put his hand over hers, molding her hand tighter to his face. He wasn’t leaving. He nuzzled into her hand and leaned closer.
She threaded her fingers into his hair and lifted her face to his. Inviting his affection was as natural as breathing. It shouldn’t be, kenning he planned to leave her in less than a week. But och, it was.
He rubbed his beard over her forehead. A gentle, lingering caress. “You did well today, lady.” He spoke against her skin.
“As did you.”
She heard him swallow. He shifted even closer until he was over her, pressing her into the furs with his presence rather than his weight.
If she arched her back, her breasts would touch his chest. She didn’t. He needed to hunt. But she couldn’t seem to stop touching his beard, his cheeks, his strong jaw, his mouth. His lips were soft and warm in that luxurious nest of tidy hair.
He was a wolf-man who lived secluded in the wilderness, but he kept his beard trimmed. He kept himself clean. He was gruff, but he was a gentleman in every way. He might slaughter his own meat and eat it raw, but his cleanliness and civil behavior put many a Highlander to shame.
She wanted to kiss those lips, wanted that mouth on her body. She craved him in every way a woman could. They could make a life together. Here in this cave. They could hide from the trackers, and when they were no longer hunted, return to his cabin.
“Why must ye take me to Chroina?” she blurted.
“I told you. You won’t be safe anywhere else.”
She remembered him telling her that. Safe from what? From whom? What did Riggs fear when he was capable of fending off wolves to protect her? “I don’t believe that. You’ve kept me safe thus far.” She cupped his neck, just below his jaw, let her thumb rub over his ear. “Don’t take me to Chroina.”
He remained silent and motionless, except for his breathing. She felt his pulse beating in his neck, felt the movement of his chest when his shirt brushed her cloak with each inhalation.
“Keep me here. With you.”
Och, what was she doing? Asking a man to keep her had never turned out well before. She’d asked Aodhan, and he’d jested and distracted her from her talk of marriage with his wicked mouth. She’d asked Steafan, and he’d called her a whore when she hadn’t even worked at the bawdyhouse as yet. Now she asked Riggs. Would he crush her hopes like the others? She held her breath.
“I’d love nothing more.”
Her breath rushed out with relief. She wrapped her arms around his neck and tried to draw him down on top of her. Was she actually considering having him tup her? Could she do so and enjoy it without fearing his reaction to her twisted leg? Yes. Here in the dark, where he wouldn’t see, yes. Och, yes.
Riggs didn’t budge, but remained inches above her. His neck tensed. “But I can’t.”
The words hit her chest so hard, she felt like she’d been kicked by a mule. How had she let herself come to a state where his rejection should hurt as it did? She shoved at his shoulders, needing to get away.
He was immovable as a boulder.
“Lady,” he whispered. “Sweet lady.” He rubbed his cheek on hers as he had at dusk. First one side, then the other. The warm friction at her cheek ignited a matching heat low in her belly.
Curse her body for clinging to hope when his words had stamped it out. He didn’t want her. The one man she thought mayhap she could trust not to recoil from her brokenness, and he wanted nothing to do with her. She should scorn him, unman him with her words. That had always been the penalty for any who dared refuse her before.
But she couldn’t. Not when he’d bled for her today. She bit her tongue to keep silent.
“I need to hunt.” The words sounded forced. His arm trembled as he braced over her, demonstrating how hungry he must be.
Silence throbbed between them.
“Go. Eat.” She rolled away, giving him her back.
He rose to stand by the bed, saying nothing. But she heard him there, breathing.
“I’ll be fine. Go.” She made her voice airy, as though she weren’t aching inside.
Without a word, he left.
Chapter 9
Riggs stalked from the cave, leaving Anya warm and welcoming and flooding his bed with her fragrant musk. And it nearly killed him.
He skidded down the rocky incline he’d climbed a few minutes ago. When he reached level ground, he kicked off his boots. His hands shook as he unlaced his shirt. His body was strung so tight with desire it caused him pain to push down his trousers.
It was more than physical longing. Yeah, his body roused to her, but his full response went so much deeper. Being with Anya pulled tight strings that reached way down to the core of his person. Being away from her made it feel like someone plucked too hard at those strings and made them discordant.
He felt connected to her. The power of the connection terrified him.
The urge to claim her was a living thing, an instinct arising from the same place that had given him the strength to defeat the wolves today. But she’d already been claimed. She was a treasure fit for a king. He needed to protect that treasure, not plunder it.
Snarling, he tore across the river and into the forest. The undergrowth was thicker here than near his home. Thorny bushes and reaching branches scratched at his skin with stings that distracted him from his hopeless predicament. His feet beat against the hard ground, hitting sticks and rocks with flares of dull pain that faded all too fast.
He pulled the fresh air into his lungs, searching through the scents of pine, cedar, and moss for the spicy bite of game. There. He veered to the right, f
ollowing the nose-ruffling scent trail of a young buck.
The air changed. A barely audible flutter in his ears meant the buck had heard him and taken flight. He forced his attention to the hunt. His feet flew as he closed the distance between him and his prey.
He rounded a copse of pine and saw the white tail disappear into the trees. He pushed himself to run faster, ignoring the burn in his muscles and the pain from his wounds.
The buck had speed and grace, but Riggs had strength and endurance. And hunger. Deep hunger. He let the empty ache in his gut summon his instinct to the surface. His thoughts reduced down to their simplest form. Catch. Kill. Feed.
Provide.
* * * *
Anya tossed and turned on Riggs’s bedfurs, but she couldn’t sleep. Not when he’d given her proof of her worthlessness. Not when humiliation heated her belly and made her want to slink away into the darkness, never to bother Riggs again.
But she wouldn’t slink away. He might not want her like she wanted him, but the thought of leaving and never seeing him again hurt worse than breaking bones. She’d cling to him despite their apparent imbalance of desire, because she could. Because even though he’d just hurt her, being near him would provide a measure of comfort. Until they reached bloody Chroina.
She was pathetic.
But she’d known that already. She’d get over it. In the meantime, she’d make herself as useful as she could. Riggs already had to carry her and provide meat for her. The least she could do was forage for her own greens and make a fire so she could cook the meat herself when he returned.
She got up and made her way to the half circle of blue night beyond the black cavern. Thanks to the moon, she could see well enough to make out the winding river below and the densely wooded hills all around, making of this place a hidden valley. Far in the distance, the loch sparkled like a dark gem.
Somewhere out there were men intent on finding Riggs. Were they anything like the brutes who had first found her? Would they try to arrest him for murder?
She’d vouch for him that the deaths of the Larnians had been justified, but who kent what a woman’s word was worth in this place, especially a crippled woman. Speaking on Riggs’s behalf might do more harm than good.
Stop borrowing trouble, lass.
She turned her attention to the task at hand. Pulling the cloak tight for warmth, she hobbled down the hill in search of firewood. Riggs had warned her not to leave the cave because of dangerous animals, but she was no stranger to spotting wolf and bear sign. She’d ventured into equally wild areas in search of kindling for Gravois’ camp and managed to avoid predators well enough. Besides, she had the hunting knife at her hip. The axe, she’d left in the cave. ’Twas far too large for her to wield effectively.
The narrow patch of earth between the river and the forest would make a nice bed for the fire. She began collecting twigs and arranging them in a conical shape. Venturing into the dark forest but never going so far she couldn’t hear the river, she let her hands and feet guide her search for logs small enough to carry. After an hour’s work, she had a decent woodpile she could light with her flint box once Riggs returned.
Having worked up a hearty thirst, she lowered herself to her elbows on the pebbly bank. Several groans came forth, and she was glad Riggs hadn’t been there to hear them. Reaching down to the water, she scooped up a few handfuls.
Ah. Cold, crisp. Wonderful.
The chill of the water on her skin made goose bumps sprout up and down her arms. It left an icy trail down her throat to her empty stomach. Meat would be very welcome after nothing to eat all day.
Rustling in the foliage across the river made her look up sharply. An enormous black form appeared out of the trees. ’Twas too large to be Riggs. She sucked her breath and scrambled back from the bank. Pain shot up her legs. Och, she couldn’t get them under her to flee!
When she tried to draw the knife at her hip, the blade caught in the sheath. In her panic, she struggled with it and managed to slice the webbing between finger and thumb.
She hissed with the pain and made a second attempt, bringing the knife out and brandishing it toward the giant now wading through the hip-deep water. It was coming straight for her.
“What are you doing out here?” came a booming, growling voice. Riggs’s voice.
He came up the bank like a Norse conqueror, moonlight reflecting off his wet muscles, thunderclouds gathering behind his eyes. As he approached, she saw his already substantial size was exaggerated by the partially eaten carcass of a buck draped across his shoulders. He slung the carcass to the bank with a wet thud. Water drained off him, making puddles around his feet.
She exhaled with relief. He might be angry, but at least he wasn’t a hungry bear or a Larnian tracker.
“I told you not to leave the cave. You could have been eaten. You could have been taken! By the moon, I can’t even leave you alone for an hour!” His voice rose until it echoed around the valley.
“Cease your caterwauling!” She sucked the wound on her hand, embarrassed. He was right. If he’d been a wild animal, she wouldn’t have been able to defend herself. She was too slow, too crippled. “I’m no wee ane in need of constant care. I doona even want your care. Just tell me which way Chroina lies and I’ll find my own bloody way. I’ve had enough of you, you—you big brute.”
“You’re not going anywhere on your own.” He’d ceased his yelling as she’d asked. He was quiet now. Dangerously so.
After all his bellowing, hearing him like this filled her with dread. Or mayhap he only seemed more dangerous because he smelled like blood from his hunt. Whatever the reason, she’d lost her appetite.
Foolish lass. She should have slunk away while she had the chance.
* * * *
Anger surged through Riggs. Anger at Anya for disobeying him. Anger at himself for leaving her alone. Images of wild animals tearing her apart or Larnian trackers capturing her flashed before his eyes and tied knots around his heart. Protect! his instinct roared. It was his ultimate duty, and it was pure luck that he hadn’t failed in it tonight.
His lungs tightened with the urge to yell at her some more, but he stopped when she uttered a cry. She was trying to get up off the ground, and causing herself pain in the process.
“Here.” He went to her and wrapped a hand around her slender arm.
She shook him off. “Doona touch me!”
“I’m trying to help you.”
“I doona require your help.” She managed to get her feet under her and rose with a grimace. Without casting him a glance, she limped off toward the incline.
He followed her with his eyes, afraid he’d shake her senseless—or nuzzle her senseless—if he went after her.
She passed a pile of wood that hadn’t been there when he’d gone hunting. It was half as tall as she was and as big around as a uniwheel cart. It would burn more than long enough to cook the hindquarters he’d brought her. And the clothes he’d left in a heap were folded neatly atop a flat boulder. His boots sat perfectly straight, side by side like soldiers in a line.
He was a royal shite.
She hadn’t been challenging his order when she’d come down here. Disregarding it, maybe, but with the intent to help him. She was hungry and weary and probably sore from rowing all that way, yet she’d worked to save him time and effort and to do what she could to take care of herself.
He wiped a hand down his face.
Anya was unlike any lady he’d ever heard of. Independent, hard working, surprisingly capable for someone so small and so damaged. She liked to be active and make decisions for herself. Much as he hated to admit it, her logic was sound given what he’d told her, which wasn’t much. How could he expect her to steward her own safety if she didn’t understand the threat?
It was time to tell her everything.
He yanked his trousers on and went after her. She was just entering the cave when he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. The coppery scent of fresh blood stung
his nostrils. His stomach dropped.
“You’re bleeding.” He hadn’t realized it when she’d been near the buck.
She shrugged his hand off. “It’s no concern of yours.”
He stepped around her, halting her progress. “Lady.” He put both hands on her shoulders.
She wouldn’t look at him.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have raised my voice.” Good thing he didn’t plan on keeping her for himself. A heartless clod like him didn’t deserve such a delicate treasure. He would only hurt her again and again, like tonight, like yesterday when she’d fallen near those mushrooms. King Magnus would know how to treat a lady. King Magnus wouldn’t make her hide her face and shy from his touch.
“I doona wish to talk about it. Leave me in peace. I’m tired.” She tried to shake him off again, but this time he held fast to her graceful shoulders. The muscles there were overly warm through her shirt and cloak. He swept the heavy wool of the cloak aside to explore that heat with his fingers. He found knots and started rubbing them like he’d done for her legs last night at Aine’s Falls.
The tense line of her shoulders relaxed ever so slightly.
“Where are you bleeding from? What happened?”
“If you must ken, I thought you were a bear, and I cut myself trying to draw your bloody hunting knife.”
Curse him. “I’m sorry.” He felt down her arms until he had both her hands in his.
“You said that already.”
“I’ll say it a thousand times if that’s what it takes to earn your forgiveness.” He lifted her hands. There. The right one had a gash in the tender place between finger and thumb. He put the wound to his mouth and licked it, like he’d do for himself if he were bleeding. Her blood tasted sweet and salty and clean. The flavor made his eyes roll back in his head.
She hissed in a breath and went completely still. “Only a thousand?” she said on a wavering breath. She cleared her throat. “Och, it would serve you right if I demanded ten times that number.”
