The Savage Blood (Savage Series, Book 2)

by Tamara Rose Blodgett

  Joseph was first and threw his arms about her. He pulled away, seeing her smashed face, her lip swelling and blood leaking out of her nose. Then he observed that she wore only her torn undergarments. “Who has laid their hands upon you?” he growled.

  She hiccuped back a sob. “It was he! Clara is down there with him...please help her!”

  Maddoc, Matthew and Edwin came upon them. Seeing the downed Band they turned to Joseph. “Where is Clara?”

  “Anna says she is down there with the man who attacked her.”

  Their faces showed the rage and impotence of the moment so clearly. They ran into the woods at a sprint, the branches crashing about them.

  Maddoc reached the spot where the moss lay crushed, blood staining it black.

  Clara was nowhere to be found, the wood empty and still.

  Edwin reached down and scooped up the stockings that she had been too modest to put on in front of him. He had never felt more like weeping in his life.

  He had never cried.

  “No!” Matthew roared. “How is it that they were unprotected?” he asked to no one in particular.

  The men turned and rushed through the forest and met Joseph and Anna. They looked at her face and none said what was foremost on their minds.

  Clara may be in worse condition.

  Anna cowered against Joseph, her teeth chattering. “He is Band. He is the man from my Band. The one that...that...” her large brown eyes pleaded with them to understand.

  “We need to be after her. Now!” Matthew yelled.

  “Yes, my brother. But first, let us get the details before we charge after her,” Edwin said reasonably.

  “She is my sister, I do not need too many details. I say we pursue and kill him,” Maddoc said.

  Matthew nodded, moving to charge toward his horse.

  “Wait!” Edwin said and he turned to Anna. “How was it you were able to escape?”

  Anna told them.

  “She stabbed him with her hand? In his throat slits? You are certain...?” Maddoc asked incredulously.

  Edwin could not help it, he laughed.

  Matthew glowered at him. “What brings humor? While this male of the Band is doing who knows what to Clara?”

  “He is wounded, dolt. Can you not see, he will be able to be overcome. Our delicate Clara has a steely core. She has incapacitated him for our overtaking and rescued her friend as bonus.”

  Maddoc smiled. “He speaks true.”

  “It matters not, I cannot think until I lay hands on her and know she is safe once more. That one of the Band could overcome the Band here does not speak well.”

  Maddoc's brows shot down over his eyes. “We are to guard against the fragment. Not other Band!”

  “No more words, we must be after her,” Matthew said. He turned to Joseph. “Tell our captain what has happened here.” His eyes turned to Anna, they stole to her torn bodice, then moved to her face. A livid mark lay upon her cheekbone, her eye swelling above it, her lip puffy and cut.

  He turned without a word and leaped onto the back of his steed, Edwin and Maddoc echoing his move with their own mounts nearby.

  *

  Evelyn cried uncontrollably, taking solace from no one. She absolutely loved Clara above all others. Why had this happened? She gave a disdainful look at Anna. How could she have left Clara behind? Why had she not stayed and tried to help her?

  Now she was gone. She would never survive the violence of this deranged male of the Band.

  Rowenna slapped the table with her bare hand, making all that lay upon it shake. Bracus lay a hand on her shoulder and she reached up without thinking, covering it with her own. “I take responsibility. I should have been more diligent with the guard. We have never had a problem but with the random fragment. I should have concerned myself more with that rogue Band. I knew that your Band sought you, Anna. But word must have got out that you were near. He came seeking revenge and found my daughter instead.”

  Anna sat looking at her hands, the guilt a wretched ache in her chest.

  Joseph leaned down and whispered in her ear, “You could have done nothing. If you had not run and alerted the Band, even now he would have you both or worse.”

  Anna nodded. She definitely understood what the “or worse,” would have been.

  It almost was.

  Still, she could not protect Clara. She looked at Rowenna, full of remorse. “You should have seen her, Rowenna. She was so determined. She stabbed him. But her face, I will never get the memory of her face out of my head.”

  “What of it?” Bracus asked.

  “It was a fearsome thing. A perfect blend of fear and anger.”

  Rowenna allowed herself a small smile. “She is so much my daughter.”

  Bracus let his hand fall away from Rowenna and began to pace the room. “They will recover her. He is weakened by what Clara has done. The throat slits do not repair quickly like other parts.”

  He was right, Anna thought. There was that small victory which may serve as an advantage.

  “How can we just wait here and do nothing? Do you not love her Bracus?' Evelyn wailed, her heart breaking.

  Bracus looked at her steadily. “I will always love Clara. We have done something. Three of the Band, one her own brother, seek her even now.”

  Evelyn's eyes narrowed on him, then shifted to Rowenna. “No. It is she that your eyes seek.”

  Bracus strode to her and grabbed her to him, hugging her against him. She stayed stiff in his arms, angry at him, at everything.

  “It is she that broke things off between us. She could not have Matthew and I both. You know me, Evelyn. If she had chosen me, there would have been no other. That I may yet find happiness with another female is beyond what I had hoped for myself. Has Clara said to you that she begrudges me this?”

  She pulled away. “She has not.”

  “Well then, wee one, let it be. She will return to us, safe. She will choose her own mate and we will live together in happiness once more.” But it was not Evelyn's face that Bracus looked upon as he said this.

  It was Rowenna.

  *

  Randall was worried about the female. She lay in front of him as a pale and lightweight lump, a horrid and swollen bruise at her temple. She was so still he had stopped his steed twice to check that she lived.

  He had hit her harder than he had meant.

  His breathing came in fits, her small fingers having lanced his throat slits deeply, one was not working at all.

  As soon as he had picked her up he had known what it meant to be touched by the select.

  A terrible heat like fire had raced up his arms when he pressed her unconscious body against his. She wore only the lightweight garments she had underneath the heavier skirt. Instantly, when all that unrelieved skin had touched his body it shook as if on fire and his need to protect the female that he had just beaten overcame him, nearly bringing him to his knees.

  He had ignored the legends of the select his entire life. That the Band was bred specifically to protect the clan. But above all else, any of the select. That stupid female, Anna, had changed everything for him.

  Now that he had taken a select, the Band would be coming for him. He had thought a loose plan of using her then dumping her wonderful. He would have his fun, then scamper away into the wilderness, continuing his existence in exile.

  But no longer, he would fight one hundred of the fragment and ten of the Band for one day with her. The thought of them tearing away his fragile burden made sweat bead on his lip and his heart race in his chest.

  He slowed his mount to a walk, then stilled the beast. Its sides heaved. He had galloped for miles, the entire way knowing it was jarring for the female but distance was his priority.

  He gazed down at her. He pushed her deep red hair away from the temple. Almost before he knew what he was doing he kissed the bruise he had laid upon her.

  Her eyes flew open and she stirred in his arms, turning to look at him.

 
She said nothing, just stared.

  He lifted his hand to push the remainder of her hair out of her face and she lifted her arm weakly to defend her face.

  His breath caught in his throat. She moved to defend herself against him, as weak as a kitten. “I will not hurt you again.” He knew what she had seen. Did she not realize the other female was not special? She had deserved his retribution but he knew that her scorn would soon turn to understanding.

  He lowered her arm. “I will not beat you again.”

  He carefully dismounted with Clara in his arms and she turned her head to the side, weakly throwing up, her head spinning, streamers of colors lay about her and she could not steady her head. That she lived while her head felt the way it did was beyond her.

  Death would have been a mercy.

  Randall felt terrible, she had nary the strength to evacuate her stomach. He had hurt her terribly and did not know how to fix it. He brought her to a glade underneath a stand of trees, towing his horse behind him. Gently, he laid her down upon the grass. He brought a flask with water out of his rucksack and cleaned her mouth. He held her head gently as she took small sips of water from him.

  She began to shake and he got the only blanket he had and covered her with it.

  Clara looked up at the giant who fed her water and could not believe she was held by the male who had tried to rape Anna. Her despair knew no boundaries. She knew that Matthew and Edwin would find her. She but needed to stall him here as long as possible. Moment by moment she felt slightly better.

  Randall looked down at her curiously and said, “Your wound heals.”

  Clara did not feel healed. She felt that her head had been crushed in a vice. However, she felt better than she had but moments before.

  “What do they call you?” Randall asked.

  “I am Clara,” she whispered out of a throat raw from vomiting. He moved to put the small pillow he had beneath her head and she flinched. He sighed. “I have told you that I will not abuse you further.”

  “I know who you are. You are the male of Anna's Band that she ran from. The one that nearly had his way with her,” she said, her voice raspy.

  He looked at her with disdain. “She is one of the females which tease the Band, they do not deserve our mercy.”

  Clara stared at him. It was then she realized he was quite mad.

  He reached out and touched the pulse which hammered in her throat. “So brave,” he crooned. “But your body betrays you.” His finger slid down between her breasts and she gasped, the heat from his touch licking along her breastbone. It should have filled her with desire but it was an intimate betrayal that her body would not understand what her intellect shouted to her in fear.

  His eyes flicked to hers and he smiled, thinking she would see that they should be together. He gathered her to him and placed her on his lap and began stroking her hair. Eventually, when she offered no resistance, he pushed her down against the moss and covered her with his body, clasping her wrists in one of his large hands he put them above her head.

  Clara had never been so frightened in her whole life. He planned to rape her but not in the way of Prince Frederic. No, he planned to claim her so she could never be with another of her choosing. If he consumed her then her ability to choose a proper spouse would be stolen forever.

  He kissed her, beginning at her injured temple and moving down her face. He buried his face in her neck and as he passed to place his face between her breasts she whimpered and he brought her in tighter against him. She shuddered within his grasp, feeling his knee part her legs she tried to squirm but with her weakened condition she was horribly vulnerable.

  Dear Guardian, Clara thought, was this what her life was reduced to? All the struggles and hard-won triumphs for naught before the result of this crazed Band by happenstance stumbling upon her?

  Clara did not see the longsword as it whistled through the air but heard its descent and the widening of the male's eyes before his head was taken off his shoulders, the blade's deliberate arc missing her face by inches.

  Clara instinctively closed her eyes and in so much as a weeks' time she was sprayed by another male's warm lifeblood.

  When she began to cough and choke it was Matthew that soaked the gills that sprung from her flesh in response to her adrenaline. The salted water allowing her breath to return to her in a gasping fit.

  He looked at her face then drug her into his arms and stood, kicking the male's body away. Clara was dizzy as he walked and heard the voices of her brother and Edwin.

  “How does she fare?” Maddoc asked, jogging alongside him.

  “Whose blood?” Edwin asked as he thundered beside Matthew.

  But Matthew continued walking, never taking pause in his stride. As he neared his horse, Edwin restrained him with a hand on his arm. “Let me look upon her. Let us evaluate her condition.”

  Clara rolled her eyes to Edwin and he took in a swift breath. “That is a fearsome wound.”

  Matthew nodded tersely. “It is his blood which coats her. If you are done gawking, I would ready her for travel back to the clan.”

  Edwin's eyes narrowed, his hand tightening on Mathew's arm and Clara thought she would be torn apart again and said on a whisper, “Please...just take me from this place.”

  Matthew looked down at her, his face moving from anger to tenderness, Edwin glowering in the background.

  It was Maddoc that pressed them forward. “Do as she asks. My mother will know how to tend her. She is not as the rest of the Band. She has but a fraction of our strengths, she is fragile.”

  Edwin looked at her thoughtfully. “Mayhap not. As it seems to me that the wound mends as we watch.”

  They looked upon her and she closed her eyes. Finally, after what seemed an interminable amount of time, she felt Matthew mount his horse.

  He whispered in her ear, “Can you stand a gallop?”

  She nodded against his chest. “Please, do not let me go,” she said as hot tears scalded her face and soaked his chest. He gripped her in his mighty arm, swinging the horse with one hand.

  “Never,” he said.

  They rode, her face pressed against his heartbeat.

  CHAPTER 24

  Many arms and hands carried Clara to a bed that welcomed her like a feathered womb. She was beyond tired. Her bones ached. She had been beaten, ridden a horse at a gallop with a head that felt like it was not her own, and was now back at the clan of her mother.

  When she opened her eyes, the comforting presence of Evelyn was the first that greeted her. Her lower lip trembled. “Oh Clara!” she cried, jarring Clara with her hug, a flare of pain in her head letting Clara know that she was not completely well.

  But it was Clara that comforted Evelyn, now an orphan, without family, save Clara and the members of the Band. And Maddoc, Clara noted, her eyes meeting his above the weeping girl. His gaze was latched to Evelyn's bent form. His eyes begged that she would not give him away. Clara would not. Nor did she want Evelyn played with. She had been through far too much to be trifled with.

  Evelyn finally pulled away and smiled through her tears. “We thought...we did not know...” and when Clara saw she may go into a fit of crying again, she grasped her hands and said, “I am fine. Do not fret.”

  “You do not look fine, Clara.”

  Clara knew this. With the blood of the rogue male covering her and the wound his fist had created, she was sure she was a sight. A blush of heat came over her when she realized she was in nothing but underwear. Her arms, bosom and half her legs for everyone to see.

  Matthew came into the room and smiled when he saw that she was better. His expression changed when he noted her discomfort. “What troubles you?” Then he laughed realizing the ridiculousness of the question. “I meant, what troubles you at this moment.”

  “I realize I am wearing very little,” Clara answered, a new flush of heat creeping up her neck.

  “Aye. Yet, you live, sweet Clara. That is all that matters. Your state of clo
thing is of little importance.”

  “What is this obsession the sphere-dwellers have with being covered? It is confounding, given the season,” Maddoc said.

  Evelyn shrugged. “It is their way. But I did see Clara in bare feet a few days past,” she said, winking at Clara.

  It was true, Clara was losing her civility inch by insidious inch. But somehow, it did not feel wrong to her.

  Clara was saved by answering when Sarah rushed in. She threw her arms around Clara's neck and she cringed as fresh pain settled into her head again. “I do apologize! I should have been at the spring today! I was otherwise engaged and now you are here...abused again,” Sarah said as she slapped her own forehead.

  Clara immediately wondered if she had been with Clarence, who she deemed a proper suitor or capturing a moment of stolen passion with Philip.

  Clara released her from her guilt handily. “He would have had more females to take or abuse. It is good that you were not.”

  Sarah looked at her thoughtfully, touching her head gently. “I am not so sure.”

  Clara held out her hand and Matthew came to her bedside, taking it. “You very nearly nicked me with your sword.”

  He gave a great smile and said, “Nay, I swung true.”

  “Very,” Clara said, nuzzling his hand with her cheek. It was at that moment that Rowenna, Bracus and Edwin entered.

  Matthew let his hand fall with a frown while the three of them crowded around her bedside and Evelyn and Sarah made room for them.

  Matthew stayed where he was.

  “Daughter,” Rowenna said, leaning down and kissing the least abused side of her face. “It is very good to see you again.” Her eyes held a sheen, Clara noticed.

  “It is very good to be here,” Clara responded sincerely.

  Bracus leaned over her and pressed a gentle kiss on her forehead. “It is well that the blood that you wear is his and not yours.”

  He turned to Matthew. “My brother,” and Clara saw him fight his emotions. “You did well this day. Edwin has told me he lives no more.”