Her Wild Bear (13 page)

Chapter 20

Matt choked and coughed up dirty water as he crawled his way out from the river depths. His fingers were bleeding from the sharp rocks along the bank, but he managed to pull his nude body from the current.

He lay on his stomach, panting, watching the mud turn dark with his blood. He was no longer bleeding into his lungs, but the wounds were burning in pain, and each breath felt like it could be his last. He remained motionless until the feeling returned to his limbs.

Matt rolled over onto his back and stared up at the sky. Every muscle ached and he felt his strength still draining. He looked down over his body, finding the holes in his leg and side, blood still oozing out steadily. He wasn’t able to see the wound in his back, but the warmth that surrounded it told him it was bleeding profusely. He closed his eyes, glad to at least not have drowned in the river. But in the darkness he could see her face, and he could still hear her crying out for him.

He reached out and tore off several large leaves growing along the banks. He pressed those against his back wound, crying out in pain as he applied pressure. With his other hand he stretched far enough to pluck several handfuls of salmon berries from a bush, swallowing them without bothering to chew.

A minute later he felt a slight strength welling up inside from the food. He pushed himself up into a sitting position and reached out for more berries. They were sweet, and the sugars rushing through him helped. But he knew he couldn’t heal without shifting, and he needed fresh meat to give him strength for it.

He gazed across the river, the ripples concealing the fish. He lunged forward to search for a stray trout or salmon, but immediately went woozy and fell back into the rocks. He lay helpless, trying desperately to think. He was too far gone to hunt or fish, and could do nothing but bleed to death into the water. Ironically, his final act of life would probably attract the fish to his dead body.

“Traps,” he barely managed to mutter. “Tawny would use traps.”

Matt stared up at dark clouds drifting overhead. “Father,” he muttered. “Damn, I could sure use your help right now.”

He was answered only with the indifferent sounds of nature as he sensed his life ebbing away. As the world fell dark, one thought ripped through his mind — he was alone, completely and utterly. The truth was he always had been. And, finally, he understood that Tawny was alone as well, and probably terrified. He would be her only hope, and that hope was fading.

The world floated slowly back into focus.

He heaved several long, painful breaths, feeling courage rising up weakly inside of him. He fumbled clumsily along the riverside, pulling up thick sticks and shoving them deep into the muddy river. It took several minutes before he formed a small corridor for the fish, and he foraged in the soil to find clumps of worms. He wriggled twigs through the worms, baited the trap with them, and collapsed down into the cool mud, exhausted. He lay there, staring up at the darkening sky, feeling himself fading back into the earth. He could feel his soul becoming a part of it, joining with the soil in its own quest for existence.

And then, unexpectedly, everything was clear to him. He saw himself, neither bear nor human, but as something that existed only within himself, alone, yet connected to the earth. He closed his eyes, sensing his own painful reality, and the world fell quiet.

Matt stirred to the sound of a splashing — a kind of brutal, panicked struggle under the water. He rose slowly, his head pounding, turning to see the source of the noise. His neck ached as it twisted, but his face brightened when he saw the trap.

He rolled over on the bank and stared in surprise at the large golden trout flopping against the sticks. It worked desperately to save its own life; in its wide, blank eyes and relentless struggle were a strange kind of plea for mercy. For a brief moment, Matt contemplated whether it was really his own right to decide who, of the two of them, would die. But, in the end, he leaned his face into the water and sank his canines into the slippery meat.

The tender life gave way for his own and Matt devoured the fish nearly whole. He fell back into the mud and waited, feeling the strength surge into his veins. He tried desperately to shift, but managed only a partial transition, becoming an ugly, gory in-between beast.

He looked down to watch the wounds clot, stopping the bleeding. He sucked in hoarse breaths, and waited as the life rose within him. But the fish was not nearly enough, and there was no time to wait in hopes of catching another one.

His sharpening gaze peered out over the water and he contemplated risking the current to hunt for fish. But the shifting breeze carried another scent, something that made his skin turn cold. It was a horse.

Matt pulled his gruesome, half-changed form up along the hill and peeked cautiously over the crest. He could see the animal, tied to a tree a few yards out, and his eyes narrowed with renewed determination. Keeping to the brush, Matt wound his way upriver along the bank, beginning to drool. He wasn’t surprised to spot a man dressed in army fatigues carrying a large rifle and making his way quietly down river, his attention fixed keenly on the bank. Matt recognized him as one of the battalion.

Crouching under the brush, Matt waited for him to get close enough to ambush. His every muscle tensed as the man drew closer. He tried not to breathe until he heard the man’s steps padding down the bank just a few feet away. He could hear the man’s own breaths, smell the scent of his sweaty palms on the rifle butt, hear the rustling of his fatigues. Matt pounced from the shadows, and there was the quick and distinct horrifying flutter of a life being snuffed out; the soldier fell limp with Matt’s fangs in his throat.

The blood poured into Matt’s mouth, a sour and distasteful heat. Dropping the body to the ground, he fed, and at last managed a complete shift into a bear. He shook out his fur, relishing the rush of life that swam through him and ignoring the horrid human aftertaste.

He loped deliberately over to where the horse was tied, but the animal reared in panic as it caught Matt’s scent, ripping the reins from the tree. Matt could only watch as the horse bolted into the woods.

Chapter 21

“Where’s Gary?” Rodney asked, sizing up the men who stood around to watch Tawny as her naked shoulders shook with grief.

She glared out through the bars at them, covering her chest with her arms the best she could manage.

“I have no idea,” Thomas growled. “He took a horse yesterday, but it came back alone late last night. I’m inclined to think we may not see Gary again.”

“That doesn’t worry you?” Rodney asked.

“Actually,” Thomas retorted, “it worries me a great deal. We need to move out, now.”

“The horses are loaded with our provisions, and the others are gathered over at the armory,” Rodney declared. “Except Sid and Odell. We’re still waiting for them to get back from taking out the phone lines.”

Thomas grinned. “Oh good, I’m glad they’re taking care of that. There’s no cell service out here, and that will leave the town mostly isolated until we complete our mission.”

“What about these two?” Rodney asked. “Are we just leaving them here alone?”

“I’m watching them,” a skinny, disheveled younger man replied.

Tawny eyed the kid up, her skin twitching nervously.

“Dale here twisted his ankle on the first trip out there, and he’s in no shape for a march,” Thomas explained. “He can sit down here and make sure these two behave themselves.”

“No problem, boss,” the kid smirked. “I’ll see to it they don’t do anything.”

“Good,” Thomas barked as he turned and plodded up the stairs. “Let’s get to it, men. And remember, the largest bear pelt is mine!”

Tawny watched as Dale dragged a folding chair across the hall from the jail cells and sat himself squarely down to stare at them. Overhead, the men scuffed and meandered for several minutes, then the heavy door squealed as they made their way outside. The building fell quiet.

“Can I please get a shirt or something?” Tawny asked. Her voice was soft and reserved.

“You’re not getting anything, bear-lover,” Dale sneered. “If you’re lucky, I’ll let you keep your pants.”

Tawny glanced beside him to stare at the knife that still lay on the table. She winced as she imagined how it would feel to have it cut through her skin, and possibly her bone. She felt hot tears well up in her eyes.

“She can have my shirt,” Kyle offered. “Can you just hand it over to her?”

Dale glared over at Kyle, giving him a smirk. “I don’t want to see your ugly-ass tits, dude,” he scoffed. “She looks much better topless than you do.”

Tawny felt his heavy gaze on her skin. She stood up and turned her back to him, pulling the cot away from the wall. She sat herself on the other side, facing away from Dale.

“Turn around and give me a show,” Dale ordered.

Tawny tried to ignore him, but a deep shiver rolled through her as he spoke.

“Do as you’re told!” he demanded.

Tawny gritted her teeth. “Fuck off,” she mumbled.

She heard him stand up and grab the bars. She was glad then to have the cage between them.

“You don’t seem to understand who’s in charge,” Dale spat. “Stand your ass up, turn around, show me your boobies, and tell me who’s in charge!”

Tawny clenched her jaw and sat in terrified silence.

“Fine,” he crowed.

She heard him hobble away, her blood turning cold as she wondered where he was going. A minute later she heard him come back and unlock the door.

Tawny twisted around to see him swinging the bars open and stepping inside, a thin rope dangling from one hand. Her stomach turned sour and tight.

“You’re going to be begging to call me ‘master’ by the time we’re done here,” Dale snarled as he locked the door behind him and hooked the keys back onto his belt.

Tawny saw the dark gleam of his handgun as the grip peeked out from its holster. Her throat tightened.

“Leave her alone!” Kyle screamed.

Dale motioned to the rope. “Tell your boyfriend over there to shut it or I’ll string him up right now,” he muttered quietly.

She swallowed back hard on the lump in her throat. “Kyle, don’t say anything,” she moaned. “Please, just stay quiet, for me.” The thought of having him yelling as Dale hurt her made her gut ache. “Please just don’t say anything, okay?” she cried.

She heard Kyle groan, then toss himself onto his cot in despair.

“Good girl,” Dale grinned. “See, you’re getting the idea already.”

He grabbed her arm and Tawny gave a muffled scream as he dragged her over the cot onto the cold concrete floor and pinned her beneath him. He straddled her and wound the rough rope around her thin wrists, tying them together.

“Please don’t hurt me,” Tawny pleaded.

“You’re a little late for that,” Dale smiled. “Now there’s going to be some pain.”

He dragged her to her feet and threw the long end of the rope over an exposed rafter in the middle of the room. He yanked the rope taut, pulling Tawny’s arms tight over her head, and tied it off. Her shoulders ached and she raised her body up onto the balls of her feet to lessen the strain.

Dale stopped and stood in front of her, staring eagerly at her bare breasts. The hungry look on his face made her skin crawl. She cried as he reached up and pinched one of her nipples, grinning as her body rippled with pain.

“That’s my girl,” Dale said. “Now let’s start with some whipping, shall we?”

Tawny watched in dismay as he slid his belt from his pants, calmly walking around her and setting the keys and gun on the floor. She turned to stare longingly out through the bars and up the stairs, her lower lip already quivering in fearful anticipation.

The belt hissed as it slipped through the air, striking Tawny’s back and leaving it sore. She jolted and struggled vainly against the ropes before clenching her eyes shut and waiting, helpless, for the next hit. Again she felt the sharp slap of his belt to her back and she began to sob.

“Call me your master,” Dale demanded. “Tell me you belong to me.”

Tawny clenched her teeth and said nothing.

Two more brutal lashes struck her back, each one hard enough to make her squeal.

“Call me master!”

Tawny groaned. “Kiss my — ” she began, then bit her lower lip regretfully.

His fingers slid beneath the leather of her pants, tugging lightly on them. “What shall I kiss, darling?”

Tawny turned her head away from him.

“You know what you need?” Dale gloated as he rubbed at her arm. “You need to be properly branded, like a cow.”

Tawny couldn’t subdue a whimper. She heard Kyle turning restlessly in the next room and remembered that he was hearing everything.

Dale grabbed the keys, unlocked the bars and hobbled around the corner, out of sight. Tawny eyed the bowie knife on the table, just outside the open door, and the gun on the floor behind her. She yanked down hard on the rope, but it only dug deeper into her soft skin. She wriggled, trying to break free, until Dale came back, his pockets bulging.

She felt the last of her hope dying as he locked the cell door and walked to the back wall, dropping the keys to the concrete with a loud rattle. He set a thick candle on the floor and lit the wick. Then he took some baling wire and twisted the end of it into the shape of a letter “D”.

“Where should we brand you?” he taunted as he sat himself down next to the candle. Tawny twisted around to watch him as he sat, engrossed in the little flame.

“We need to get this iron red-hot,” he goaded. “But we can use that time to talk about just where this is going.”

Tawny stared out the door and up the stairs, her sight clouded with burning tears. She tried to picture Matt, his kind eyes, his brooding smile. Her heart ached as she imagined him sinking beneath the river’s surface, his body bleeding into the icy water. She longed desperately to see him one last time, to watch him come down the stairs to rescue her. She tried to imagine him creeping down along the steps, his muscles tense, his body — naked.

It struck her as odd that, at such a miserable time, she would envision him fully nude. She blinked the moisture from her eyes, expecting to find the stairwell vacant. But he was still there. And he was, in fact, completely naked.

Her heart leapt inside her chest as waves of relief and elation washed over her.

She watched Matt scan the room, quickly assessing the situation. He lifted a finger to his lips, warning her to keep quiet.

“I don’t want to damage the good stuff,” Dale muttered, still focused on the candle. “I want your boobies undamaged. But your lower belly may be a good spot.”

Matt hurried to the barred door and carefully pulled on it. It was locked solid. He looked at the rope tied around the rafter, then gazed down along Tawny’s stretched-out, exposed body, her muscles twitching as she perched herself up on her toes.

She saw his thickness swell and stiffen as he examined her, and a longing heat roused deep inside her in response. She watched him gape at her breasts and stomach, her face growing soft and submissive.

“If some other guy wants to screw you, he’d see my brand hovering over that skanky little puss of yours,” Dale droned on, still staring intently at the flicker of a flame. “That would be a perfect spot.”

Matt’s expression hardened, and he looked around the basement. He noted the keys and gun on the floor next to Dale, and the little candle. He hurried from sight, scouring the rest of the room, then peered cautiously back around the wall at Tawny.

“Once I finish with you,” Dale was saying, “you’re going to beg me to let you call me ‘master.’ Hell, you’ll be calling me your god.”

Matt winced, but plucked the bowie knife from the table. He cocked his arm back, taking aim past Tawny, at Dale’s neck. She squirmed in sudden panic, trying vainly to twist out of the way.

“You’ll be kissing my feet and my hands,” Dale chortled. “And you can be damn sure you’ll be kissing my big, hard dick.”

Matt hunched, dropping his arm to his side. Tawny was too much in the way. She stared at him, the dread sinking in. But she knew he could wait, just out of view, until Dale stepped out of the cell.

“You’re going to tell me that you’re a whore,” Dale went on. “You’re going to admit you’re a big bitch.”

She wrenched in grief, knowing she would have to endure whatever Dale wanted to inflict, all while both Kyle and Matt listened to everything. She wondered if she would going to cry out loud when he did what she knew he intended to do after the branding, after the torture, when she was weak and frail.

Matt sighed resignedly, then cocked his arm back once more. This time he took careful aim at the low rafter overhead where the rope secured Tawny’s hands. She gasped, flinching as the knife spun through the air before thudding into the soft wood. A grim smile touched Matt’s lips as he saw the knife stick, then he stared down at Dale, his eyes cold.

Tawny’s heart thudded hard in her chest. She looked up to check if she still had all of her digits, relieved to see she wasn’t bleeding. The blade was wedged safely between two of her fingers.

“What the hell was that?” Dale yelped, grabbing his gun and jumping to his feet.

He stopped, alarmed to see Matt standing at the bars. He shuffled across the room and past Tawny, stopping inches away from Matt, the two of them staring intently at each other with the knife hanging precariously in the rafter just over Tawny’s head, Dale still completely oblivious that it was there.