Tender Savage (Siren Publishing Allure) (9 page)

Silently watching from the trees, Abraham suddenly sprang forward. Eleanor was rushing headlong into the jungle, Carlos and the two remaining men hard on her heels. Sparing no more than a second’s glance at the two guards lying dead under a tree, he became the pursuer. Positioning himself behind the man bringing up the rear, he wrapped an arm around his neck and, jerking him to a halt, twisted his head. With a quick snap, the man fell to the ground, his neck broken. Powerful thigh muscles contracted and expanded, and Abraham was speeding after Carlos, lightning swift, deadly quiet, almost invisible. At one with the jungle, the elements, and with lethal intent, he moved in. The second man met his fate within seconds. A blur of movement, a quick blow to the neck, and he crashed to the ground.

Eleanor was screaming, piercing sounds vibrating through the jungle. Abraham leapt fallen trees, crashed through ferns as big as a horse, and hacked at vines in his path. He was focused, dangerous, and powerful. She was his woman, and she needed him.

Carlos had caught up to Eleanor, and Abraham could see the abuse he was putting her through, cruelly slapping and shaking her.

Blows raining down, Eleanor was cowed, her tied hands lifting to protect her head. An eruption of noise and the trees appeared to open. Abruptly, her cries stopped.

“Abraham!” she breathed.

Throwing Eleanor to one side, Carlos withdrew his knife.

“So, once again we meet, Savage.”

“So it appears.”

“Defend yourself.” Beginning to circle Abraham, Carlos tossed his knife from hand to hand, grinning in anticipation.

Laughing when Abraham did nothing, Carlos made a few flippant lunges, all to which Abraham ignored.

“Come, my friend. Try your hand.” Carlos yanked apart his shirt, pointing at his chest. “Here it is—my heart. Plunge your knife deep, because for one of us it will end here, on this night. So take your chance.”

“Give yourself up, Carlos. In that way you may live, albeit in a prison cell, but alive for all that.”

“No, it ends here, your life or mine.”

Abraham glanced across at Eleanor. Carlos followed his look. “When you die, Savage, the woman will be mine, as all your women have been. I will sink myself into her pure, white body and slake my thirst, taking once again what is yours.”

Abraham slowly withdrew his own knife.

“Very well, Carlos. For better or worse it ends now.”

Eleanor closed her eyes, too frightened to look. If Abraham should die…

For Eleanor the silence was too much, and she strained to hear, but there was nothing—nothing but the quiet whispering of the trees, the shuffling of feet, and the grunts of heavy breathing. Cautiously she opened her eyes, just a bit, too frightened to look but too terrified not to.

Both men were bloodied, clothes torn by blades, and both had a look of primitive savagery on their faces. Quickly she closed her eyes again. Everything seemed heightened, the sounds, the smells, and the savagery.

A primeval cry rent the air, vibrating around, resounding off the trees. Its sound eerie, wretched. Eleanor’s eyes snapped open.

Abraham was bent over Carlos, who was sprawled on the ground. A knife was in his chest, and blood was seeping crimson red from the wound. Carlos spoke, his words soft and eerily disjointed. Abraham grasped his uplifted hand.

“You win…my friend, the…other…wound…the one that cut so deep…it is…now revenged, eh?”

Nodding, Abraham reached out with the other hand and grasped Carlos’s shoulder.

“Rest now, Carlos. There are no more battles to be fought.”

Carlos took a shallow, difficult breath. “The stars are strange, hazy now, like lights through a misty window.”

“Close your eyes, my friend. There is nothing more to fear.”

Rising to her feet, Eleanor moved closer to Abraham and rested a small comforting hand on his shoulders as the last lingering sign of life left Carlos.

Abraham slowly got to his feet, Eleanor’s hand sliding unheeded from his shoulder. Protecting Carlos’s body from the wild animals, he laid a handkerchief across Carlos’s face and silently began covering him with stones. Looking on, Eleanor was unsure of what to do or say. Her was mind reeling with unanswered questions, and she bent and lifted some stones to give to Abraham.

Looking coldly at her, his eyes to her mind dead, soulless, he ordered her to leave well alone, that this task was for him to do alone. Opening her mouth to speak, she quickly, upon catching Abraham’s eyes on her, closed it again. His eyes were so blank, empty of all emotions, and cold, like the emeralds they epitomized.

The task done, Abraham caught hold of Eleanor’s arm and, quickly withdrawing a knife, sliced through the binds that held her wrists. Momentarily his thumb stroked against the red weals left behind, and his gut clenched. Then sparing her no further interest, he marched off back toward the clearing, not even bothering to check to see if she was following. Staring after the silent, retreating figure, Eleanor took one more glance at the makeshift grave and scurried after him.

* * * *

Dawn was breaking, the night seeming to have flown on speeding wings. Back at their encampment, Abraham quickly doused the still-glowing fire, handed Eleanor the flask, and proceeded to break camp. Passing her bag to her, Abraham, without a backward glance, set a hard, fast pace and marched out the clearing.

The hours passed, and Eleanor was tired beyond imaginings. Abraham’s pace had stayed steady, lessening only slightly over the course of the last couple of miles. She was hot, tired, and thirsty, heartily sick of getting soaked from sudden rain storms and then moments later her clothes steaming dry. Her feet were killing her, and the strain from the bag on her shoulder was beginning to tell, every muscle screaming in pain. They had stopped but only once, ten minutes for a short rest, a drink, and a piece of beef jerky, all of which had been partaken in silence. Wanting to speak, ask questions, and commiserate on his loss, Eleanor, thoroughly confused by the relationship between Abraham and Carlos, had thought better of it, especially when Abraham had deliberately turned from her and rested some distance away. His stiff back and shoulders told her more than words that this was not the time for small talk.

* * * *

Stumbling over a tree root, Eleanor finally gave into exhaustion and lay where she fell. Too tired to call out, she just closed her eyes. Maybe at some point Abraham would notice her absence and realise she was missing, but, she thought as she metaphorically shrugged her shoulders, who cared.

Abraham stopped and swung about, looking for Eleanor. Spying her lying prone on the ground, he strode over to her and turned her to face him. Gently pushing the hair back from her hot, red face, he quietly spoke her name.

Her lids feeling like a ton of weights so heavy they refused to open. Eleanor, with a supreme effort, forced her lashes upward and gazed almost adoringly at him.

“
My hero
!” she whispered with a besotted grin, lifting her hand to pat him on the face.

“Oh my God!” Abraham breathed gently, pushing back her hair off her hot forehead. “Come on, Eleanor, drink this. You’re dehydrated.” Unscrewing the cap of the flask, he held it to her mouth.

“No I’m not. I’m a bloody model,” she countered, her voice high pitched and squawky.

“Drink,” he ordered, almost tipping the water in her mouth.

Gulping, Eleanor coughed and spluttered as the liquid went down the wrong way, dribbling onto her chin and over the front of her shirt.

“Now look what you’ve made me do,” she complained. “Now I’ll have to take it off.” She began to open the buttons of her shirt.

“Enough!” Abraham ground out, smoothly lifting her in his arms.

* * * *

Placing her on the ground sheet, Abraham proceeded to fix the awning above her. All the time he was engaged in the mundane tasks of setting up camp, she talked gibberish to an imaginary friend and proceeded to remove items of clothing. Her blouse came off first, followed by boots and then socks. With each article she removed, she giggled, wildly throwing the items in all directions. After a fire was built, Abraham boiled up a kind of stew using edible nuts and roots. It wouldn’t taste that good, but it was nourishing and wholesome. A waterfall was nearby, and he’d collected some of the running water, which was in a tin boiling on the stones surrounding the fire. When it was cool, he would add the last of the sterilizing tablets, and then it would be fit to drink.

Eleanor needed to get hydrated and quickly. He glanced across to where she was lying. Finally, exhaustion had caught up with her and she was asleep, mouth slightly open and snoring.

At least the manic giggling had stopped, if only for a moment.

Whilst the water was cooling, Abraham visited the waterfall and had a fresh cleansing wash. He didn’t dare immerse himself in the water, as it would be teeming with bacteria and God knew what else as well, and it wouldn’t do for the two of them to go down with something. Returning to the camp, he checked the now-cooled water and dropped in two sterilising tablets, then went to rouse Eleanor.

Shaking Eleanor’s shoulder, he called softly to her. Her lashes fluttered and then, by what seemed a feat of immense will, her lids lifted and her eyes gazed slightly myopically into his.

“Ello,” she squawked.

Abraham raised her head and placed the lip of the flask against her mouth.

“Drink,” he ordered, tipping the liquid into her mouth.

Coughing and spluttering, Eleanor drank. Repeating the action a total of five times, he then decided that she’d had enough and, propping her against the tree trunk, went to get her some of the stew.

Abraham’s hand on Eleanor’s shoulder shook her awake, and placing a bowl of stew into her hands, he ordered her to eat. Listlessly, feeling exhausted and slightly strange, she stirred the brown mess in the bowl and wondered what on earth Abraham was expecting her to eat. It looked like dog dirt, and she tentatively took a bite, and it tasted awful.

“
Ech
!” she protested, spitting it out. “
What the hell is it
?”

“Stew. It’s good for you, so eat it.”

“No way! Look, I know I’ve been a bit of a pain, but there’s no need to try and poison me.”

“Stop being ridiculous. You need nourishment, you’re exhausted and dehydrated, and the stew is full of vitamins and minerals, so be a good girl and eat it.”

Patronising pig, she thought, looking mutinously at him.

“I’ll think I’ll pass, thank you very much,” she said primly, putting the bowl to one side.

Looking up from feeding the fire, Abraham stared decisively at her.

“You either eat it willingly, princess, or I’ll force it down your stubborn little throat.”

Gaping at him in disbelief, she hesitated momentarily before mulishly picking up the bowl, and she hastily began shovelling the food into her mouth, forcing back the angry words teeming in her head.

* * * *

The night was closing in, and Eleanor lay back on the groundsheet and tiredly closed her eyes. Before she knew it, it would be morning, and the route march would begin all over again. She wanted to cry. For what, she wasn’t really sure. For herself maybe, for the hardship and the fear, or for Abraham, for whatever drove him, for the demons that made him the unfeeling brute he had become. She checked herself. That was unfair. He wasn’t unfeeling at all. He was driven. So perhaps her tears were for her brother, who had wasted his life and was now a lost soul, living in a world of fantasy, not knowing the difference between illusion and reality. But maybe they could be for the passengers and crew of the aircraft who had lost their lives or even for the death of Carlos, who at one time, many years ago must have been a decent human being, some mother’s innocent child, and apparently Abraham’s friend. She sighed, shifting restlessly, still so many unanswered questions and so much heartache and sorrow. The sounds of the jungle merged, becoming incomprehensible, and she succumbed to sleep.

Abraham glanced over to where Eleanor was sleeping. She seemed much improved. Thankfully, she was only slightly dehydrated, even though this setback, minor though it was, was sure to slow them down. Although, with just a day or so resting she should be as right as rain. He blamed himself for her suffering. Furious at her detention by Carlos and worried about her survival, he’d set a punishing pace, not heeding the signs of her distress until it was almost too late. Now she needed rest, so they would have to stay here tomorrow and then think about moving the day after.

Checking the fire was secure, he made his way to the awning. Lying down beside, Eleanor he wrapped a protective arm around her as she snuggled into his warmth.

* * * *

Eleanor stretched luxuriously. A feeling of well-being encompassed her. Keeping her eyes closed, she reached out for Abraham. Missing the feel of a warm body beside her, she sat up, her eyes searching the small encampment. Breathing a sigh of relief as she glimpsed him entering the clearing, she hungrily took in his appearance. He looked fresh as a daisy, masculine, virile, handsome… Her thoughts skidded to a halt then backpedalled.
He looked as fresh as a daisy, how
?