Authors: Shannon K. Butcher
Living Nightmare (19 page)
“Are they coming?”
She gave a weary nod. “Logan’s on the helicopter. He’ll be here soon.”
Gilda struggled to stand, so Nika helped her up. Nika wasn’t exactly a bounty of strength, but the desire to help burned bright inside her, unable to resist.
Gilda frowned at her as if startled by the offer of assistance, but she took Nika’s hand. “Thank you.”
She rose to her feet, took position at Angus’s left side, and waited for the Synestryn to come.
For the first time in Gilda’s long, long life, she felt old. Worn-out.
There had been a time when she could have opened a portal, healed Madoc, and still fought off a horde of Synestryn without breaking a sweat. But now, before she’d even risen to her feet to fight by Angus’s side, she was exhausted.
Helen had slain all the demons on her side of combat and was now coming to clean up the mess Gilda had left behind.
The younger woman smiled as she fought, the fire flowing freely from her hands as if she’d been born to it. There was a kind of freedom in Helen now that hadn’t been there only a few months ago. She was growing into her power even as Gilda was drawing away from hers.
The distance between her and Angus was getting wider, making it harder and harder for her to tap into his power. Since he’d agreed to allow Tynan to try to restore his fertility, they’d hardly spoken.
She’d kept her word and refused to allow him to share her bed. That refusal had grown into a chasm between them that seemed to widen every day.
She was losing him.
Gilda flung out a short burst of wind, hoping to knock a pair of demons off their feet for the men to slay with their swords. Instead, she barely ruffled their fur, and the effort left her weaving on her feet.
Helen stepped forward, lifted her hands, and a wall of fire spewed forth, tossing the flaming beasts into a rocky outcropping, where they hit hard and then stopped moving.
While Gilda panted, trying to catch her breath, Helen finished her job.
Shame burned bright inside Gilda—shame for her weakness and shame for all the things she’d done to the people around her.
She’d alienated everyone she loved and betrayed those she loved most.
The fighting had died off, and she knew Angus would come to her as he always did. Despite her treatment of him, he still performed his duties and upheld his vows.
His wide hand came into her field of vision, reaching for her. “You’re tired. Come and rest in the warmth of one of the vehicles while we get ready to move.”
Gilda ached to take his hand and feel the loving warmth of his skin against hers. She hated the rift that had grown between them. She wanted things to be like they used to be before all her lies had come between them—before she’d betrayed him and all the other male Theronai by sterilizing them without their knowledge or consent. None of them knew that she was the cause. Her lies had hid her betrayal well.
And yet, if she took Angus’s hand, that would simply be one more lie. As much as she wanted his touch, she knew she wouldn’t allow it. She couldn’t lose another child, and if Angus touched her, her resolve would crumble. And if Tynan’s cure had worked, she’d conceive.
That could not happen. Never again.
So, rather than lie to him and offer him any sliver of hope that things could be as they once had been, she turned her back on him and walked away.
The stab of rejection he felt leaked through their connection before it was hastily controlled. Gilda pretended she hadn’t felt it. Her warrior had his pride and it was the least she could do not to take that from him, too.
Chapter 11
J
ohn Hawthorne knew better than to be out in weather like this, but the dreams he’d been having for the past week had pushed him out the door.
ohn Hawthorne knew better than to be out in weather like this, but the dreams he’d been having for the past week had pushed him out the door.
Just like in his dreams, it was dark and snow was falling at the rate of an inch an hour. And just like in his dreams, there was this nagging itch in his gut telling him that someone out here needed his help.
His windshield wipers slapped across the glass, packing a frozen layer of snow around the edges of their reach. His Jeep managed pretty well on the roads, but he had to crawl along at a frustratingly slow pace to make sure he didn’t slide off.
The farther he went, the more that feeling in his gut nagged at him.
He scanned the road ahead, but couldn’t see far. Someone had come this way recently, judging by the tracks in the snow that had only started to fill up again. Then, suddenly, the tracks he was following swerved into a full circle and ended as they left the road.
John brought his Jeep to a slow stop a few feet in front of the crashed vehicle. The headlights of the other car were still on, the windshield wipers still keeping their frantic pace. He flipped on his hazard lights, grabbed a flashlight, zipped up his coat, and got out to see if the driver needed help.
A gust of wind sucked the air from his lungs as he hurried back down the road. Now that he was close enough, he could see that the car was angled in a shallow ditch. A layer of snow had already begun to build up on the car’s roof and the driver’s-side window.
He used the sleeve of his coat to wipe away the snow and shone his flashlight inside. The beam landed on the curve of a woman’s cheek and John had the oddest sense of recognition flow through him. It was as if he should know her, though he had no idea from where.
Rather than waste time worrying about it, he opened the car door, praying she was still alive.
Her eyes were closed and a dark bruise had formed along the left side of her forehead. Her lips were parted, but it was too warm in the car to see her breath. As John stripped off his glove to feel for a pulse, his eyes traveled down to see if her chest was moving.
It was, and all he could do was stare. She had fantastic breasts, and he was sure he could see just the barest hint of lace peeking out from the edge of her shirt.
John scolded himself for being a pig and pressed his fingers against the side of her neck. Her pulse seemed strong and steady.
Her eyes fluttered open, likely from the chill contact of his touch, and she sucked in a pained breath.
“Easy,” he said in a quiet voice. “You’ve had an accident.”
A deep frown creased her brow and she lifted her hand to her head, looking at her fingers as if she expected to see blood.
“What happened?”
“You slid off the road.”
“There was a man in the road,” she said in a confused tone; then fear widened her brown eyes. “Did I hit him?”
She tried to push herself upright, but John held her still, pressing her shoulders back against the seat. “Hold on and stay put. I’ll check.”
John couldn’t imagine anyone walking around outside on a night like this. Chances were she saw a deer, but better safe than sorry. The idea of someone lying in a snowy ditch was too scary to ignore.
He shut her door to help her stay warm, then went to the road, looking for signs of deer or man. It took longer than he would have liked, since visibility was so low, but he trudged over at least a hundred yards in both directions, just to be sure. There had been nothing but pristine snow.
When he went back to her, she was standing outside, weaving unsteadily on her feet as she brushed snow off the front of her car.
“I didn’t see anything,” he told her.
Relief made her voice faint. “I don’t see any blood or dents on the car, either.”
“It was probably just a deer.”
She shook her head as if to clear it. “I was sure it was a man.”
“Could you have fallen asleep at the wheel?”
“Maybe,” she said, though she sounded uncertain. “Maybe I’m not remembering right from that bump on my head.”
John’s breath curled out in a silvery plume. “Whatever happened, we need to get you checked out. I’ll drive you to the hospital. It’ll be faster than waiting for an ambulance.”
“No. I’m fine. I don’t need to go to the hospital.”
“You could have internal injuries. A concussion.”
“It wasn’t that bad. I just need to report the accident.”
John wasn’t convinced that skipping a hospital was a very smart idea, but she seemed okay and was getting steadier by the second. Besides, she was a grown woman, capable of making up her own mind. “I’ll stay with you until the police show. Just in case.”
“My cell phone won’t work out here. I already tried. Can I use yours?”
John had intentionally left his at the office, knowing that his vacation would be useless if his employees knew they could reach him. Without it, they had to solve their own problems, since none of them knew the number of his cabin. “Sorry. Don’t have one. You can use my landline. I don’t live far from here.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I should probably stay with my car.”
“Not in this storm. It’s too dangerous. We’ll report the accident from in front of a fire.” John took her arm and gently pulled her back onto the road. The fact that she leaned on a stranger for support showed just how unsteady she was. Her sneakers were caked with snow and the legs of her jeans were wet up to her knees. “We need to get you warmed up and make sure you’re okay.”
“Are you sure there’s no one lying out here in the snow?”
“I didn’t see any footprints, and you hadn’t been here long enough for your car to be covered, so if you’d hit someone, I think I would have seen them.”
She nodded, looking so weary and confused it made John want to hug her. Instead, he pulled her up against his side to support her over the slick ground, feeling the slim curve of her waist beneath her jacket. His fingers tightened slightly and itched to slide down onto her hip.
Instead, he kept his hand firmly off her body as they made their way to his Jeep.
“I’m John Hawthorne,” he told her as he opened the Jeep’s door for her to get in.
“I’m Meghan Clark. Thank you so much for stopping to help me.”
She looked up at him from the passenger’s seat. Her dark eyes were shadowed with worry, and the need to erase that worry was so intense, all he could do for a long moment was gawk at her, speechless.
Something deep inside John flipped over and stretched as if waking from a long sleep. He had no idea who this woman was or why she was out here, but the need to take her home and get her warm and dry seemed more important than any of those details.
John had never allowed anyone to visit his vacation cabin before. He preferred to leave it sacred in its isolation—just for him and him alone. But now, he couldn’t think of anything he wanted more than to get Meghan tucked away, safe and sound. Isolation be damned.
Meghan could not get warm. She tried to hide her shivering body and chattering teeth from her rescuer. He’d turned the heat up as high as it would go on the drive here, and was now crouched in front of the stone hearth, working to light a fire.
The small cabin was clearly some kind of masculine retreat. Fishing gear was stacked in one corner. A fully stocked gun rack hung on the wall by the door. The couch was big and worn, obviously chosen for comfort rather than style. A sturdy wooden coffee table was scuffed and scratched.
Meghan looked to John’s booted feet, figuring he’d likely propped them up there more often than not.
A small kitchen filled the other side of the open space. The counters were mostly bare. There were a couple of dishes drying in a rack. Through an open door, she could see a bed with the covers rumpled on one side.
She wondered how it was that a man like John slept alone. She’d met him less than an hour ago and had already considered asking him if he was married.
She hadn’t. Her unusual lapse in judgment—getting into the car with a stranger and letting him take her home—was likely a result of her head injury. Not that she could turn back now. She was stuck here until the police came to get her.
John stood and turned to her. “There. That’ll warm the place up soon.”
Firelight flickered behind him, outlining his legs. Meghan’s eyes traveled up his body, and oddly, she wished he’d take off his coat so she could get a better look.
Drawn by the warmth, Meghan stepped forward, extending her hands to the fire to warm them. A sigh of satisfaction rose up from her, and John’s jaw clenched.
He cleared his throat. “How are you feeling? I can still take you to the hospital.”
“No. I’m better. Fine. Really.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
He nodded. “Let me know if you change your mind.”
“I will.”
“I’ll go make us some hot cocoa. You should probably get out of those wet jeans. I have some sweats you could wear while they dry.”
Meghan opened her mouth to refuse his offer, but instead said, “That would be nice.”
John went through the open door, leaving Meghan to sort out what the hell she thought she was doing.
Getting into a car with a stranger was bad enough. Letting him drive her to his home was worse. Getting undressed in his house crossed the line.
Other books
WarlordUnarmed by Cynthia Sax
La estrella escarlata by Leigh Brackett
Bog Child by Siobhan Dowd
Vampires Never Cry Wolf by Sara Humphreys
Jim the Boy by Tony Earley
Our Undead by Theo Vigo
Daytime Encounter (A Short Story) by Lynn, Alan
Cut and Run by Donn Cortez
Figure 8 by Elle McKenzie