Page 62 of Darkness Bound (Night Prowler 5)
Alejandro jerked his chin at the usmi’s two assistants, who jumped to comply with their master’s command. They released Jacqueline’s wrists from the shackles and chains, one at a time. When she was free she collapsed into their arms, boneless as a rag doll.
“Let him go,” said the Alpha to the four holding Hawk. They did.
He sprang to his feet. He sprinted to her. He shoved the two males aside and gathered her up—gingerly, tenderly, fury and anguish twisting his handsome face—hooked one arm under her knees, pressed her chest to his, and cradled her head with his other hand, leaving her bleeding back untouched. Without a word, he turned and strode swiftly away into the darkness with a semiconscious Jacqueline in his arms. The crowd parted silently for them to pass.
Everyone watched them go.
Xander said under his breath, “I don’t understand. I don’t understand any of this. What the hell has gotten into Hawk? Why would he care so much about her? Did you see his face? The way he fought? And the human . . . why would she do that for him? For Nando?”
“I don’t know,” Morgan answered in a whisper, just as the first of the tears crested her lower lids and began to stream down her cheeks. She swiped them angrily away before anyone could see them.
This had been her idea. Though the Alpha had approved it and even pretended he’d not only agreed to it but had also thought it up in the first place, it was Morgan who had wanted this, who had risked this very outcome. She’d brought the woman here, knowing all the dangers, all the ways an outsider could be harmed or worse, and yet she’d hoped they’d somehow navigate the murky waters together to find a common ground, a safe place where they could come to understand each other. A place where they might learn to live peacefully, so they could show the rest of the world it could be done.
Now that hope was as flayed and bloodied as Jacqueline Dolan’s skin.
What would she tell the world of them now that she’d been beaten bloody within ten minutes of her arrival, beaten so badly her knees wouldn’t even support her own weight?
The old man in white stepped forward into the clearing. He was kalum, the priest, Keeper of the Ancient Ways, the oldest, most venerated member of the Manaus tribe. Without speaking, he turned in the direction Hawk and Jacqueline had gone, gazed into the darkness, then bowed low at the waist.
One by one, the crowd began to follow his example, paying their respects in silence, until the only one left upright was Alejandro.
The Alpha gazed impassively at the lowered backs of his subjects, then turned and walked slowly away.
The fury was a thing inside of him, an animal of bloodlust and blackness that wanted to claw its way out of his skin.
Hawk couldn’t remember the last time he felt such pure, unbearable rage.
With Jacqueline cradled limp and bleeding in his arms—breathing shallowly, white with shock—Hawk went to his home, his pace just under a run so he wouldn’t jostle her. Cursing his lack of a ladder and the proper tools to make a pulley, he entered his home the way he always did when in human form.
He climbed the rope.
With Jacqueline a dead weight over one shoulder, he slowly and carefully pulled them up with both feet twisted around the rope, one hand pulling as his powerful legs pushed, an arm wrapped around her thighs. He navigated them carefully through the circular opening in the floor that opened into the lower level, and, once he had his feet beneath him again, took her upstairs.
He laid her on her stomach on his bed as gently as he could, wincing when she moaned.
She was conscious, but barely. When he straightened and got his first good look at her raw back up close, it was all he could do not to scream at the top of his lungs and break every piece of furniture in the room.
Alejandro would pay for this.
He knelt beside her, brushing the hair gently from her face. “I have to wash you, namorada . . . clean the skin to ensure there’s no infection. Then there’s a salve . . . you’re going to be fine, okay? I’m going to take care of you. I’m going to take care of everything.”
Her lashes fluttered. He glimpsed her eyes, blue, hazed with pain. She whined, a small, high noise in the back of her throat. Her lids drifted closed.
God, what had he done? How had he let this happen? He’d promised her no one would hurt her; he’d promised her only moments before they came here that he’d protect her and now . . .
Every curse Hawk had ever heard flooded his brain, and he wanted to shout them from the windows. He wanted to kill something with his bare hands. He wanted to make someone bleed.
He rushed to prepare the salve that would help her. Because he so often needed the salve himself, he kept most of the ingredients dried in glass jars in the cupboard. There were a few items that had to be fresh, an antimicrobial herb and a vine whose leaves were an analgesic, so he went into the forest for those, hating to leave her but having no choice. When he had gathered and prepared all the ingredients, he ground them to a paste with a tincture of other medicinal extracts, and returned to her side with clean cloths and a large bowl of cool water.
He saturated the cloth in the water, wrung it out, and caressed Jack’s arm. She hadn’t moved from how he’d left her, sprawled facedown on his bed.
“Okay, Jacqueline. I’m going to start. I’ll wash away the blood first, then apply the salve. I need you to try and stay as still as possible.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I know it hurts. I’ll be as gentle as I can.”
She made a faint noise of acknowledgment, but didn’t open her eyes.
The strap of her bra had broken during the lashings. He cut the elastic around her shoulders but otherwise left it intact so he didn’t have to move her to get it out from beneath her body. Then he began.
As soon as he touched the cloth to her naked back, she gasped and jerked as if she’d been electrocuted.
