Coveted

by Stacey Brutger

  Training took over. Shayla crouched, eyes on her target as she smeared a fistful of mud over her pale face. Once she was sure she could blend into the night, she scuttled toward the second man, staying as close to the ground as possible. When she came within ten feet from him, she picked up speed.

  Her shoulder hit him right behind the knees. She flew under his body, skidding over the slick earth, while her assailant landed on his back with a heavy thud.

  Already greased, Shayla came unglued first. Flames sputtered in the mud, and she crawled toward the torch.

  The slim man cursed, twisting about, stuck as she had been not so long ago. When he rolled to his side, they came face to face with the torch between them.

  Each of them froze, staring at each other.

  Hatred contorted his face, fear became bitter on her tongue, and any reaming doubt he wanted her dead vanished. They both dove forward. She had a few feet advantage, but he moved faster.

  Her fingers curled around the base of the torch, and she grunted at the weight. When he reached to take it from her, she quickly fell back, swinging it like a baseball bat.

  Wood connected.

  She caught him across the face, the heavy thunk reverberating up her arm, and her stomach lurched alarmingly at the juicy impact.

  He fell and didn’t move.

  The sickening sounds of flesh striking flesh caused her to whirl. She lifted the torch to see both Aiden and his attacker grappling for purchase. His determination to protect her at any cost glinted in his eyes, and her heart bottomed out of her chest.

  Then he just stopped fighting.

  A lump formed in her throat, and she lunged forward, struggling to stay on her feet. “Aiden, no!”

  Instead of replying, Aiden bared his teeth, and the bear of a man charged. Aiden grunted at the impact and wrapped his arms around his attacker.

  Then they were falling backwards.

  “No!”

  Heart in her throat, Shayla sprang toward the ridge and dropped to her knees. She nearly skidded over the edge, tossing her weight backwards at the last possible second. Her knees met open air when she finally came to a full stop. She waved the torch over the rim, hoping for any sign of Aiden.

  “Damn it, are you trying to make me fall?”

  Shayla nearly dropped the torch when she spotted Aiden’s face inches from the flames, struggling to maintain his hold on the slick rocks. The low grumble to his voice, after she thought she’d lost him, sent a surge of adrenaline scorching her every nerve ending.

  “I should let you hang there for scaring me like that. What the hell were you thinking?” Not waiting for a reply, she dropped the torch and grabbed the back of his shirt to help him up.

  By the time he was back on solid ground, they were both panting. Stretched out beside him, Shayla groaned. “You really know how to show a girl a good time.”

  He didn’t move, didn’t reply, and that alarmed her more than if he’d yelled. Something wasn’t right. She slowly sat, her skin prickling painfully. She rubbed her arms and mud flaked off in layers. “Aiden?”

  “Are you injured?”

  She shivered at the rough quality of his voice, the low tone almost inaudible. “I’m fine. Not even a scratch. How badly are you hurt?”

  She swallowed hard, her fingers shaking pathetically as she reached for him, dreading what she’d find. When his hand latched onto her wrist, she jumped, her eyes flashing toward his.

  “The guy you hit is still alive. We need to leave before he regains consciousness.” So saying, he stood in a slow, measured way that hinted at great pain, not even pretending to answer her question. As though one touch would shatter him. She clenched her hands, not sure what to do with herself.

  She opened her mouth to demand to see his injuries, then closed it without speaking a word. Neither of them had a choice. They had to get out of there. Injured was better than dead.

  He swayed, and Shayla fumbled to pick up her bag and torch before wrapping his arm across her shoulder. He sucked in a sharp breath, and her resolve hardened. “When we reach your border, we’re stopping so I can take a look at your wounds.”

  Instead of replying, Aiden took a stubborn step forward. That he didn’t refuse sent a chill of worry burrowing into her gut. “Tell me how you came to be trapped in a dungeon.”

  There had to be a reason that made sense. He didn’t have anything to do with the missing people. He was no fugitive. The men chasing them were definitely not police. He might be a Neanderthal, but he’d made sure she was safe.

  Something didn’t add up.

  “I tried to help the wrong people.”

  The clipped reply said the discussion was over. Stubborn man. They traveled another few minutes in silence, the next question burning the tip of her tongue.

  “You’re going to burst if you don’t ask, aren’t you?”

  A snort escaped. “Probably. I mean, they’re trying to kill me, too. Don’t you think I deserve to know why?”

  Tension radiated from him. “How did you find the castle?”

  The question caught Shayla off-guard. “I came to Scotland for a job. I was to meet with my client tomorrow. I arrived a few days early to do a little sightseeing. My grandfather told me tales of the Tuatha Dé Danann, the faerie people, when I was a little girl. I wanted to see the land he described.”

  “And the castle?”

  A wiry smile crossed to her lips. “Rain. I wanted to avoid the rain.” She gave a little chuckle. “Actually, I could’ve sworn I heard a trapped animal, but it must have been the wind howling. There was no sign of it when the ground caved. I guess I should’ve heeded the warning and stayed away, huh?”

  Aiden stumbled, barely catching himself before falling flat on his face. “You what?”

  Shayla shook her head, feeling foolish for even having mentioned it. “I heard a howl from a trapped animal, but I couldn’t find hide nor hair of the beastie. My curiosity kept me from being in a warm toasty bed right now.”

  She glanced up at him and stopped dead. “You don’t look so good.”

  Aiden took a few more steps, neatly removing himself from her arms. Her fingers curled into fists to keep from reaching for him. “Are we far enough on your land to stop and check your wounds?”

  He whirled, his eyes glittering ominously in the darkness. “How did you know we’re on my land?”

  The menace in his voice dried the spit out of her mouth. An urge to flee flooded her system, and she had to struggle to remain still. “About five minutes ago, your whole body relaxed. You inhaled, as if relishing the smell of home.”

  He continued to stare at her for another few heartbeats. “A woman in trouble asked for my help. It was a trap, and Nora betrayed me.”

  Shayla swallowed hard, unable to curb the ugly twist of jealousy at the soft way he spoke another woman’s name. “And you landed in a dungeon.”

  He gave a curt nod.

  “I can understand that. I guess.” It made sense, but Shayla was also sure there was a great deal more to the story. It smarted that he didn’t trust her when she was forced to rely on him. She accepted the olive branch, but she recognized the shimmer in his eyes, the same one that she’d seen from the beginning.

  Suspicion, not fever.

  Hurt swamped her. She’d never felt more alone and vulnerable. And for the first time since they’d met, she didn’t want to be anywhere near him.

  “I’m not getting any warmer standing in the cold. You said your men would come for us. We’re in no shape to go any further.” The torch had burned down to the stub, the flame only a glowing ember. “Let’s make camp and look at those wounds.”

  She turned away, searching for a dry spot. It looked like they had a choice between cold mud or damp stone. She dropped her bag, kneeling to rummage inside. She withdrew a nearly empty bottle of water and a half-eaten row of crackers.

  Her mouth watered, but she held out her cache to him. “Here.”

  Of their own volition, his e
yes dropped to the food she held out so casually. Saliva pooled in his mouth, and it was all he could do not to fall on her like a ravenous beast. Though he knew she had no idea that serving him food was an old mating ritual, his beast was more than willing to accept the offer and all its implications.

  He carefully seated himself some distance from her, partially to prove to himself that he had some restraint, and reached out for the food, hating the way his fingers shook. When she didn’t flinch, he considered it a small victory. He lifted the first cracker. The dunking in the ocean had rendered the little treat nothing more than soggy mush. Despite the stale smell, he shoved it into his mouth, nearly biting his own fingers, studying Shayla over his meal.

  Things about her didn’t make any sense.

  She’d heard him howl from miles away, something only his pack could’ve heard…or a mate. Mud covered her from head to toe. He shouldn’t have found her adorable, but there was no denying his attraction. The longer he remained in her company, the more it intensified. It took all his willpower to resist the compulsion to touch her one last time before she discovered the truth.

  That she was his prisoner.

  The next stack of three crackers disappeared the same way. He hadn’t been aware he was making any noise until he saw her gazing at him, then quickly away. She silently held out a water bottle.

  Her pity dried out his mouth more effectively than the crackers. Heat spread up his face, and he dropped his gaze. He snatched the water, conscious of the quantity, and carefully took a single sip before handing it back.

  There were two crackers left. It took a physical effort to hand them back.

  Shayla glanced up briefly then shook her head. “Finish them. You need them more than I do.”

  Her wiry smile made his heart skip a beat, and he quickly shoved in the last mouthful as his gaze roved down her curvy form. “You’re built like a woman should be, just few pounds shy of perfection.”

  Shayla gave a startled laugh. “You are the only one who thinks so.” She looked up, and saw him staring at her with a hunger that wouldn’t be appeased with food. Her laughter trailed off into an awkward silence.

  She had no idea what to make of him. One second he practically throwing himself over a cliff to get away from her, then, when he didn’t think she was looking, he watched her with eyes that stripped her naked.

  She cleared her throat. “Let’s take a look at your injuries.” She busied herself, rummaging through her pack in the hopes that if she searched long enough, medical supplies would magically appear.

  All she had was the bottled water.

  With a sigh, she straightened and turned toward him.

  And nearly swallowed her tongue to see him pull his shirt off over his head. In the dying light, shadows played peak-a-boo with his torso. Muscles rippled when he shifted, mesmerizing her with his sheer power and sexuality, and her gaze took its own sweet time to drop lower.

  She sucked in a sharp breath at the brutal wound in his side. Blood trickled lazily over the sharp edge of his hipbone.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were bleeding?”

  He shrugged, his face stoic. “There was nothing we could’ve done.”

  Shayla stomped forward, her pulse stuttering. “Idiot man. We could’ve stopped sooner.”

  But he was right in one respect. They didn’t have the supplies they needed to help him. “Give me your shirt.”

  When he didn’t move, Shayla glanced up to see him watching her with those green eyes of his. It felt daring…almost forbidden…to be so close to him. She held out her hand in demand, dropping her gaze when the threadbare material rested in her palm. Very conscious of being watched, she busied herself shredding the shirt, trying to banish the half-naked sight of him from her mind.

  If only it were so easy.

  By the time she looked up again, there was no special gleam in his eyes, and her spirits deflated a bit. She washed the injury with the remaining water then quickly wrapped the wound, taking care not to brush against him. Her battered emotions couldn’t handle it.

  Each of his ribs was clearly defined, his stomach hollowed out. She had been right. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. And in spite of his gaunt frame, each and every muscle begged for her touch.

  A light brush of her fingers.

  Just to confirm for herself that he was real.

  The effort to resist the impulse actually made her ache.

  The surrounding darkness amplified her emotions, notching up the intimacy. Her body didn’t care that the intimacy wasn’t real.

  She nearly caved when she remembered the look in his feral eyes, like the big, bad wolf, ready to take a bite out of her. Wicked pleasure heated her veins as she imagined his teeth nibbling on her skin.

  But he wouldn’t be satisfied with a taste; he would consume her. It effectively curbed her willfulness. She fumbled knotting the bandages, shaking so badly that she was surprised she didn’t tie her fingers in as well.

  “You need a doctor. James would know how to fix you.”

  “I only need you.” Shayla shivered at his possessive tone.

  Neither of them moved, as if each was balanced on some invisible edge. Then, very deliberately, she stepped back and knelt to rearrange their meager supplies. She refused to throw herself at a man she didn’t know just because she was attracted to him. No way was she going to be caught kissing some guy she just met…not in a bar or gym like normal people…no, she apparently went for the dungeon type.

  She had more sense than that.

  Or at least that’s what she firmly told herself. She’d bet if saw him in the light of day, without that beard covering his face, he’d be was a troll. All that rugged manliness was an illusion to lure some unsuspecting woman like her into falling for him. When the sun rose, he would turn out to be some creep without a job who lived with his mother.

  Liar.

  Yeah, even her mind wasn’t convinced.

  She needed to keep her distance. He’d made his low opinion of her very clear. She didn’t need a background search to know he was emotionally unavailable, the last man she should want.

  So why did his rejection hurt?

  “I’m going to get some firewood.” Shayla expected a protest. When she glanced over at him, she saw that her tough warrior had passed out.

  Her first impulse was to leave him. She could use her gift to find her way back to the inn and safety. Who knew what kind of place he was taking her? She hesitated, fearing that if she left, she’d never see him again.

  Would never know if he made it back home.

  It shouldn’t matter, but she couldn’t make herself leave.

  It was stupid, but even on the run, she felt safer with him then she had in months.

  Watching him sleep, she began to suspect there was something wounded about him that would crumble if she didn’t tread lightly. She couldn’t bear to see him broken, not after what he’d survived, and all the effort she’d put in to save him. She’d see him home, then hitch a ride into town.

  But first, they needed a fire if they wanted to avoid dying of hypothermia. All she had to do was to gather some wood, in the dark, without breaking her neck.

  Easy peasy.

  She’d taken two steps when the caveman latched onto her ankle with one of those big hands of his. She glanced at him in the meager light, barely able to make out his features. When he didn’t say anything, she broke the silence. “I’ll be right back. I promise.”

  He relaxed, sweeping a finger across the exposed dip in her ankle with a lightness that spread goose bumps over her skin. Only when his hand fell away, his breathing evened out, did she finally release the breath that had somehow become lodged in her throat.

  And despite the barricades she’d spent a lifetime building, her wounded warrior had somehow found a chink in her armor. She had always believed she wanted the kind of all-consuming love her grandfather spoke of, but the possibility now frightened her silly.

  She didn’t w
ant to tie herself to someone so tightly that it would leave her vulnerable.

  She just wanted a little romance.

  Find a nice man.

  Settle, her mind whispered.

  She tromped around in the darkness, focusing at the task at hand, circulation returning to her feet painfully. She blew on her fingers, trying to restore feeling. Everything was pitch black. No way would she be able to find anything unless she tripped over it.

  Peering over her shoulder, she saw nothing but more darkness. When she was sure there was enough distance between her and the caveman, Shayla called upon her gift.

  Since she wasn’t searching for a specific object, there was no focal point to center on. She concentrated on finding kindling. Like when she used her gift for directions, she cleared her mind and started walking. She had taken only a few steps when she was drawn like a magnet in another direction.

  Her hair lifted, and static sizzled painfully under her skin until she felt like one big lightning rod ready to zap. Shayla stopped. She squinted in the surrounding darkness and spotted a bank of shrubs less than five feet away. It took her ten minutes to gather an armload, suffering a few scratches for her thanks.

  A mournful howl lifted in the air, snapping her spin straight.

  She didn’t question the urgent need to get back to Aiden. Her gift didn’t need to refocus, her feet automatically taking to the man who never seemed far from her thoughts.

  When Aiden came into view, the tension in her body melted away. She hadn’t known that she’d been terrified to come back to an empty camp. Aware of him watching her, Shayla did her best to ignore him while she built a small fire. Heat swamped her face like a kid facing her first crush. She stuck the tip of the torch into the kindling and watched the flames take hold until her cheeks had time to cool.

  She sneaked a glance at him, and noted the stiff set of his shoulders had eased. She suspected that he would have hunted her down if she hadn’t returned quickly. A little unnerved by his brooding stare, Shayla asked the question that had been hovering in the back of her mind.