H C Brown [Pr

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away from the dune buggy and rolled onto the ground. No, now she was too close to
a tall red cedar. She cried out in frustration and rolled under a bush, dragging her
backpack behind her and using it to cover her face.
Rain fell in torrents, the forest floor changing from leafy comfort to wide
rivers of muddy water. Beth lay watching a small parade of dead leaves float past in
an ever-widening flow. Cold rain soaked through her thin clothes; too soon, she lay
wallowing in mud. She squeezed her eyes shut, burying her face into the backpack;
it smelt like Zandor. She whimpered when his scent enclosed her entire being, her
stomach clenched and searing pain gripped her heart. God, Zandor, don't you know I
love you I love you both.
"It is just a storm, sister. We can still ride to the Gate."
"Did I give you permission to speak? Be quiet and leave me be."
She lay for what seemed like hours before the final roll of thunder echoed in
the distance. Pushing a wad of mud-soaked hair off her face, she scrambled from
under the bush. The dune buggy sat bogged up to its axles in mud and debris. Not a
chance of digging that out, she decided.
Beth lifted her head and sniffed. The aroma of food hung on the air. Bacon
perhaps, cooked over a campfire, and coffee. She took a long drink from the wine
skin, shuddered, and surveyed the area. Someone had made a camp under the pile
of boulders not fifty feet away and had food, hot food. I hope it's not the bloody Druik.
She turned in the direction of the delicious smell and took a few cautious steps; the
cool, sticky mud seeped through her toes as she slid toward the clearing.
"Where are we going, sister?"
"I'm going to find food and you're going to shut up."
She took a few steps forward; her foot tangled in a tree root and she fell, face
down in a pool of mud. The root bit into her ankle, cutting into the bare flesh. Her
hands sank deep into a myriad of slimy, unrecognizable matter. Dark water
splashed into her face and dripped off her eyelashes.
"Oh, yuk."
Spitting out the mud, her fingers frantically probed the murk for purchase.
The soft, sticky muck made a popping sound when she finally pushed her body free.
She slumped against a tree, rubbing her filthy hands on the trunk. Water dripped
from her hair. She tried to wipe the sticky gunk off her face and only succeeded in
spreading the muck into her eyebrows. She dabbed aimlessly at the mud and leaves
covering her from top to toe, with no effect. She groaned. Sludge covered the
backpack. She bent, her fingers tightening around the slippery handles.
"Put your back into it, girl."
Gritting her teeth she yanked and the backpack came loose in a rush with a
loud sucking sound. The satchel flew over her shoulder in an impressive arc, nearly
wrenching her arm from its socket. It flew out of her grip and landed on a high
branch some distance away. Unable to prevent the inevitable, she fell flat on her
back in the squelching mud, sending gray water spraying in all directions.
"Oh, life just keeps on improving." She muttered and staggered to her feet.
The mud behind her made a small squelching sound. Air rushed from her
body in a whoosh as she slammed backward into a brick wall. A warm hand,
smelling faintly of leather, clamped down on her mouth, cutting off her cry. Another
hand rested against the bare flesh of her ribs. Unable to move, panic, then sheer
terror and then finally hopelessness gripped her.
"Well, well, what do we have here? Do I see a little piglet wallowing in the
mud." His honey-coated voice sounded so close to her ear, warm breath brushed her
cheek.
The next second, her molester spun her around and pressed her against a tree
trunk. Her throat closed with fear. The coarse bark scraped against her flesh as he
ground his massive bulk against her, seemingly oblivious to her filthy state. The
scent of warm male and leather enclosed her and she looked up into royal blue eyes,
set in features that could only belong to the god Thor. Masses of platinum silk hair
tumbled down, curtaining his face. A wide, soft mouth curled with a wolfish grin at
her bare breasts. Sharp white fangs. A Pride male. Hopefully one with honor.
"No, not a piglet. Tell me, sweetness, did you plan to offer for my service
before or after you bathed in mud?"
"Get off, you're fucking squashing me, you big oaf."
"You must've experienced very poorly endowed males, if you think I'm
fucking you, sweetness." He grinned and bent to lick one of her exposed nipples.
"Mayhap when I clean you up a bit, you can experience all a real male can offer."
"No, thank you."
"You're not one of our usual campaign females. What are you doing in this
realm?" He frowned and shifted slightly.
"I've been in the Druik laboratory. They took me some time ago and I escaped.
I've been trying to get to the Gate, but my dune buggy got stuck in the mud."
"Your what?"
"Never mind, it's a Druik form of transport. My name is Beth."
"Hawke of Knight Watch, and what Pride are you, sweetness?"
Beth looked at him and said nothing. Tass broke into her thoughts.
"We are Arious Pride."
Beth lifted her chin." I am Arious Pride"
"Indeed." Hawke snorted and tossed his hair over his shoulders. He stepped
away and glared down at her. "And just when, exactly, were you taken by the
Druiks? Or do you lie, for I think I know all the females of my Pride."
Beth shivered under his cold gaze.
"I'm not sure how long it was . . . I've lost track of time."
"I see, well then, mayhap you'd better come with me. Have no fear, 'twill not
be me who judges your truth," he said.
Stepping back, she stumbled.
Hawke's blue eyes narrowed, he took a firm hold of her arm and led her
across the clearing. They rounded the pile of rocks. Beth gasped. On the other side,
the huge granite slabs rose in stark grandeur to form a natural cathedral-sized cave,
keeping twenty or more men safe and dry from the elements at its entrance. Dressed
in identical uniforms black leather pants and boots, a gray tunic with a black
leopard's head against a lightning strike each carried a sword sheathed in a
scabbard centered between their shoulder-blades plus a short sword and dagger at
their waist. They sat around a fire that made no smoke, above which great pans of
bacon and other tasty morsels simmered. A huge pot sat warming at the edge. Her
stomach rumbled. Mmmm, coffee and real bacon. She inhaled the thick, delicious
aroma, tasting the much-loved beverage on her tongue. Some of the men smiled
warmly at Beth or maybe they were just grinning at her mud-splattered appearance.
Others kept their eyes firmly on the plate of food on their lap.
One man rose and walked toward them. Beth took a deep, steadying breath
and looked up, way up; he stood at least seven feet tall, and his long hair fell to his
shoulders like glistening black water. A gold circlet enclosing a running gold cat
pressed into the flesh on the top of his left arm. The thing captured her gaze; the
figure bounded for a few seconds then sat panting before resuming. What kind of
magyck is that? His lips curled up at the corners as he looked down at her. This man
captivated her with his hooded, deeply sensual blue eyes and powerful body. Wow,
he is beautiful.
"What have you found, Hawke?"
"We shall see; do you know this male, Beth?"
Beth shook her head slowly. "No, can't say that I do."
"She claims to be Arious Pride and yet she doesn't recognize her king."Hawke [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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