Brave are the Lonely Page 10

  The wolf shimmered again and fell over on his side. Unlike the violent explosion earlier, this was slower, more agonizing. Her stomach lurched as the fur slid over his muscles, baring pink and meaty flesh to the air and then his bones snapped. The crunching lashed at her soul like a whip.

  When his legs elongated, twisting unnaturally, she closed her eyes. Recrimination burned through her and she forced her eyes open again. A low sound, like grunting, tore from the throat that was wolf and not wolf. His body reshaped through the agonizing minutes until Cody lay there.

  Mariska’s heart crashed with a gigantic thud against her ribs. Gloriously nude, Cody rolled up to crouch on his knees. His skin was like the rolling sands of the golden desert. The white blonde beard coating his face contrasted against the flush suffusing his skin beneath the golden tan.

  Liquid heat curled in her belly and an uncomfortable tightness puckered her nipples. He was beautiful, as magnificent as the sandy blonde wolf, but so utterly masculine. She drank in the smooth planes of his chest and the fine curl of blonde hairs that tapered down to his navel. His cock hung, half erect and seemed to engorge even as she stared at him.

  The rational part of her mind reminded her it was wrong to gape so at a man when she was unmarried, untouched and so vulnerable. His thighs were thick and evenly muscled. The blonde hair nesting around his erection continued down his legs, adding inviting warmth to the corded tension of his body.

  Gaze skating upwards, her face burned when she found angry yellow eyes where sinful blue had gazed at her the night before. He was perfect.

  “Why is Kid poisoned?” The rough, callused tone of his voice stroked over her and to her horror, drew moisture between her thighs. Beautiful, raw and male as he was, she’d never found herself so willing to touch.

  Or better, be touched.

  Shifting her numb bottom against the ground, she clenched her thighs together. The last thing she wanted to do was admit to the wanton crawling beneath her skin. Lips parted, she focused her gaze on his face, the smooth planes of his cheeks rising above his beard, the tension knotting the space between his yellow eyes.

  Would his beard be as downy soft as it appeared? Would it tickle her face? How would it feel against her skin? Another flood of damning heat pulsed through her middle. Cody crowded close to her, the heat of him warming her body and forcing blood flow through her numb limbs.

  “The poison. What is it?”

  “The draught uses wormwood. The casks of cider use it as well; the combination is attacking his insides, turning them liquid. He will not be able to stop himself. Individually neither would have hurt him, but together…” The words tripped off her tongue. This close she could see the perspiration dotting his skin, the droplets gliding over the muscles. Leaning forward, she could almost reach his face, but the suspicion narrowing his eyes splashed cold against her ardor.

  Whatever kindness he’d expressed the night before, the gentle wonder that filled his tired, cynical expression during the tale of the Red, washed away in the cold reality of the dawn sun. She wanted to cry for the lack of interest radiating through the tension in his jaw.

  “And the powder?”

  Hope peeked through the despair in her heart when his gaze fastened on her mouth. Her tongue flicked out to lick her lips. Daring that hope to become a reality, she repeated the gesture. His gaze tugged between her eyes and her mouth.

  “The powder woman!” The growl in his voice reverberated through her.

  “The white willow bark will ease the pain and any fever, the valerian will relax him, binding with the wormwood to neutralize it and the peppermint will ease his stomach. It will not cure him, but it will let him survive. You need only put a measure full in water and then he should drink much water, because his body is purging.”

  Cody surged upwards, the muscles of his body flexing with the motion.

  “Wait,” Mariska pulled at the ropes, leaning toward him. He paused at the word, his posture stiff as he glared down at her. “The powder will make him sleep, but not like the draught. It will let his body rest and he will sleep to heal.”

  Cody cocked his head to the side and she was struck by the resemblance to the wolf. The reality that the man before her, the man she’d assaulted the night before, and the wolf that glared at her just moments ago were the same took root in her soul.

  Babchi called him wolf…she meant real wolf…

  “If he dies, I will break your neck.” The cold, dead promise slapped her.

  “I swear, if we treat him and quickly, he should not die. Upon the soul of my mother, I am telling you the truth.” Believe me, please. I did not mean to hurt him. Angel of mercy, hear my prayer.

  Cody nodded once and climbed into the wagon. The wheel bumped with his movements. A thud slammed up the lid of her trunk. She heard him rifling and then he appeared, leaping gently out to land on bare feet. Ignoring her he stalked toward what remained of the fire, leaving her to stare at the sleek roll of his hips and bare ass as he walked.

  The sound of hard heaves and retching reached her ears. The breeze carried a sour scent, a murmur of voices and a groan.

  “He must drink it all, if he retches it up, make fresh and feed it to him again. If we cannot keep it in his stomach, it will not work.” Her arms burned as she leaned forward, calling out into the silence. If only he’d cut her free, she could help him.

  But why would he release you? You who turned the gentle celebration into the foul rejection of poison and brought the promise of death with the dawn?

  Another round of retching noise echoed with the morning and she bowed her head. Prayer couldn’t hurt. Minutes passed. The feeling retreated from her hands, the burning ache between her shoulders a permanent lash of thorns against her flesh. When the silence stretched with into true quiet, murmuring male voices fading, she opened her eyes.

  Cody returned, circling the fire’s ashes, with Kid cradled in his arms. The boy was nearly as tall and as broad of shoulder as the naked man carrying him. But the weight seemed no effort, he carried him much as Mariska would a little, an arm braced under his knees and another around his shoulders. He lowered him onto the blanket that her own father covered Cody with the night before, the utter gentleness as he caught the boy’s head to keep it from flopping against the ground wound through her heart.

  He rose again, ignoring her, returning moments later with wood. He busied himself, stacking the fire, seemingly uncaring of his own nudity until the heat rose. Tugging the blanket, he pulled Kid closer and then vanished out of sight only to return with a second blanket, likely the one they’d put on Kid the night before. He covered him and then leaned down, head pressed to his chest.

  He was listening to his heartbeat, but she didn’t miss the way he sniffed the air around him. Animals could smell illness. Could Cody? Or did he need to become a wolf?

  “Did he drink it all?”

  At first, she thought he would ignore her question, but after the silence stretched interminably, he rose to stare at her. “He did. It took two, but I got it all down him. Now he’s sleeping. Just as you said.”

  Sagging with relief, she leaned her head back against the wheel. Thank you angels.

  “You want me.” The words dragged her back to the present and she found Cody crouching in front of her again, an expression of shrewd assessment and curiosity easing the hard tension in his face.

  Heat flooded her face and fire licked through her belly. Her thighs pressed tighter together. If he could smell sickness, then he could smell her body’s betrayal.

  “What?” The word throbbed as she swallowed around the lump in her throat.

  His hand burned hot when it touched her calf and slid her skirt up along her legs to her thigh. Breath died in her lungs. Her body stirred in a way she’d never felt before, not even when she’d shared her first wet kiss with the boy in the bayou. The boy whose name died a lonely death in her thoughts.

  “You want me.” His fingers pressed into her thigh, firm and s
trong. Her sex clenched and a flicker of understanding kindled in her thoughts. Zevra’s warning of cradling a man between her thighs and the need to do it again speared her.

  She shifted again, but the action only increased the pressure bearing down on her sex and loosened her thighs allowing his hand to glide up further. Fire radiated out from his palm, tickling her muscles.

  Opening her mouth, the lie she planned fled her tongue. “Yes,” she admitted.

  “You want me here.” His hand glided up her thigh to cup against the linen drawers that provided the only barrier to her sex. To her shame, wetness leaked from her and his head tilted further, those yellow eyes seemingly missing nothing.

  A shudder rolled through her. “Yes.”

  Oh how the mighty have fallen, you could have offered yourself to him last night with the approval of your entire clan. You could have claimed him and been claimed by him. As equals. Now you are reduced to this…

  “Yes,” she repeated, lifting her chin. Her breasts swelled under the attention of the gaze that roamed over her face and then down to where the red dress forced her bosom high.

  His hand massaged her through the drawers and pinpricks of pleasure stole through her. Clenching her bottom, she shifted again. Blood pounded through her, throbbing between her thighs. He drew his hand away and she whimpered.

  The sound seemed to be her final humiliation. She wanted to strip herself as bare as he and lay down before him, but she was bound to the wheel, her hands cold and numb, her arms aching and her body burning.

  “Why?” The question cut through the haze of desire swimming through her mind.

  “What?”

  “You didn’t want me, but now you do. Why?”

  Her mouth opened, then closed again. I don’t know…

  But did she?

  “Good.”

  Her heart stumbled at the appearance of a smile creasing his mouth.

  “I don’t understand,” she admitted slowly, tensing her thigh beneath his palm and slightly arching her knee. Perhaps his hand would return to stoke the fire he’d begun to build in her sex, for it ached from his absence.

  “You did not lie.” Cody’s hand slid from her skirt and he reached across her, his chest brushing against hers, sweeping the awareness to her nipples. His face hovered closer to her, his yellow gaze bleeding blue. “I’ll know when you lie. Remember that.”

  He gripped the rope binding her and jerked, releasing her left arm and then her right. She cried out as her arms fell and blood surged through them. Pain radiated through her shoulders, relief and torment in the same breath.

  But instead of retreating, Cody lingered, his nose brushing over her face. “Do you still want me?”

  Needles of awareness raced over her skin. His mouth hovered closer to hers, the warmth of his breath fanning her cheeks.

  “Yes.” Her pride tasted bitter going down, but the languid need suffusing her body wouldn’t be denied. Saying anything else would be a lie.

  “But you don’t want to want me…” Cody’s mouth brushed along her cheek and chased away the chill as it tickled her ear.

  “Do you?” She dared the question.

  “Do I what?” The lazy blue of his gaze returned to hers, the wolf still lurked behind those eyes. She wouldn’t make the mistake of believing otherwise.

  “Do you want me?”

  But instead of answering her, he picked her up, dragging her body against his wild heat, the thick length of his cock pressed against her belly and her thoughts fled. She imagined he would kiss her, but he didn’t, instead he carried her to the back of the wagon and tumbled her inside. She landed with a thump on her own cot with its thick pad of feathers and linens.

  “Take off the dress.” He ordered, filling the tarp opening, his eyes glowing in the muted sunlight. He watched her trembling fingers as she worked the corset ties free, his gaze raking her skin as she peeled the dress off. She scooted uncomfortably as feeling stole its way through her numb bottom. Once the dress was free of her legs, he dragged the garment away and tossed it out of the wagon.

  “Now that.” He pointed at the thin chemise tenting over her nipples. Nervousness licked the flames of need higher and she tugged the chemise over her head. The cold air swirled around her breasts, hardening her nipples further. She passed the chemise to him without a word and it flew out of the wagon to join her dress in the dirt.

  Instead of telling her to remove the linen drawers, he hooked a finger in the fabric over her hip and they ripped away, the cloth’s loud tearing quivering through her middle. She crossed her arms in front of her aching breasts, shy under the blatant perusal of his eyes. He lifted the fabric to his face and sniffed once. Embarrassment raced through her. She was wetter than she had been outside.

  “I don’t love you.” The level, even words slashed at her desire, but even as her heart ached, her body protested. She wasn’t aching for pretty promises.

  “I will not marry you.” The second blow failed to gutter the desire cramping her belly, if anything, the heat sliding beneath his words glided over her.

  “But you want me.” She lifted her chin, defiance finding one last foot to stand on, because she’d seen that desire thick and heavy in the cock standing between his thighs. The hugeness of it both terrified and exhilarated her.

  “And I’m going to have you.”

  She wanted to weep when he said it and reached out to him, but he shook his head.

  “No touching for you.” He pointed to the top of her cot.

  “What?” She glanced at it and then him, bewildered. Hadn’t he just said…?

  “No touching. Lay down. Put your hands there.”

  She stared at him.

  His unyielding gaze remained steady.

  “Lay down.” He repeated the command when she hesitated.

  His implacable expression warned that he wasn’t going to move until she did as he ordered. Uncertainty fanned its wings in her belly but she lay down, slowly.

  “Hold the edge.” He ordered, climbing inside the wagon finally. He stood over her, his bulging cock glistening with the light sliding around him.

  Obeying, her breath caught as her chest lifted, holding the cot’s edge with her sore arms left her completely vulnerable.

  “Don’t let go. If you do, I’ll stop.”

  Stop what? She swallowed the question unasked because he knelt down and closed one hot palm over a bare breast as his mouth closed on the other nipple.

  Oh God.

  Chapter 12

  Touching her wasn’t the plan. Waking to find her bound, the caravan gone and groggy from the potion she’d apparently ladled into his food enraged the wolf. Kid’s illness only added to the raw need to injure. Her confession flinted the last spark of fury consuming his grip on humanity. The wolf wanted to rip her throat out.

  To the wolf, the truth was a simple matter of right and wrong. She attacked them. She left them weak and helpless. Had the Apache returned under cover of darkness, he would have been slaughtered. Kid would have been slaughtered.

  She would be some warrior’s bedmate, her legs spread as the warrior mounted her and all the screams in the world wouldn’t have saved her.

  Kid’s violent retching saved her throat. The wolf’s pack mate was in danger, any shred of doubt that remained in Cody evaporated at the stink of horror and fear rolling off her as she realized what happened. A solitary flame of gratitude flickered through him at her explanation. Kid was ill, but she had medicine that would save him.

  He’d shifted, tended the boy, and warned her. If Kid died, she was dead. The wolf’s black anger would be assuaged with nothing else. Cody ignored his own nudity as he worked, first to help Kid up, the boy was weak and trembling. His pale skin was sheened in sweat, his eyes glazed.

  “Cody,” he murmured. “Keep it together, man. She really didn’t mean for this to happen.”

  He bit back the growl at Kid defending Mariska. The wolf disagreed, but Kid’s pain was too raw for this argumen
t. Shushing him, he fed the powder into the water and then forced it down his throat. Two draughts later, Kid’s spasms quieted and he kept the water down. Remembering her advice to get as much water down him as he could, he carried Kid over to the river’s edge, cool, fresh water helped and little by little, Kid’s pallor retreated.

  Once he settled him back by the fire, he built the ashes back up. The warmth would help, blankets, too. The strength of the boy’s beating heart quieted the panic pacing through the wolf. Then and only then did he and the wolf look back at Mariska.

  Her mussed black hair hung around her face like the curtain of night parting. The morning sun, already halfway up the sky, turned her skin to pure honey. He’d barely noticed her the day before, save for the fire spitting in her eyes. Her obvious irritation irked Cody, after all, hadn’t he saved her from an uncertain fate?

  Kill her.

  The wolf’s visceral response puffed through him, the fur sliding back and forth beneath his skin, but he caged the wolf’s fury. Lashed to the wagon wheel, the woman presented no real physical threat.

  Why had her people left her like that?

  Family came first. He was not one of the Kanes with their strange ideas about elevating women to a position of worship. He appreciated their nature where Scarlett was concerned. It satisfied him that she would be treated with gentle, tenderness. She would want for nothing among the Kanes. But Cody nor any of his brothers would have abandoned her.

  The wolf’s snort agreed with him.

  They’d have burned Dorado to the ground if they’d had to, killed every man in their way to retrieve their sister. Had Cody discovered the Kane brothers drugged and unconscious with Scarlett the culprit, he would have taken care of the problem and moved on, taking her home.

  So why had her people done the opposite? What father left his child, vulnerable and alone, with two men who would be in their rights to take whatever they wanted from her?

  Rage surged inside of him. Muscles tense, Cody stalked toward her.

  Kill her.

  No. He didn’t kill the helpless or the weak.