Bound (8 page)

Kira’s heart raced. As she struggled to calm
her shaking hands, she unscrewed the cap and lifted it from the
container. She arched back, trying to avoid the fumes that escaped,
burning her eyes and nose. The effort was futile.

She slowly lowered the container and watched
as a single drop fell to Lydia’s lips. Kira replaced the cap to
reduce the burning in her throat and handed the bottle back to
Octavion. They watched as the clear liquid seeped between Lydia’s
lips and ran into her mouth, gradually returning the color to her
face.
It’s working.
Kira turned to share her relief, but met
with Octavion’s grave expression.

“You are not finished,” he said. “The Gyllrue
will help strengthen her heart, but it will take more to save her
life. Only your blood will heal a wound this deep.” He grabbed
Kira’s hand and slid his knife from its sheath.

“Wait! What are you doing?” She tried to yank
her hand free. His grip tightened as he pulled her hand closer to
the blade. When she continued resisting, he fixed his eyes on
hers.

“It will only be a small cut. There is no
other way.”

Kira’s racing heart fell into her stomach.
“But she’s getting better,” she reasoned. “Her color is coming
back.”

He shook his head. “She has lost too much
blood; the liquid you gave her will not heal the wound or stop the
bleeding. If you refuse, she
will
die.” He softened his
expression. “Please, Kira. She would do this for you.”

“But you didn’t say anything about cutting
me.”

“You made this choice, knowing you could die,
and now you’re afraid of a little cut?” He pulled her hand closer
to him. “It is the only way, Kira.”

The same instinct that guided Kira only
moments before still pulsed through her veins and she knew he spoke
the truth. Her life was no longer hers—she
had
made that
choice. She reluctantly surrendered, relaxing her arm and giving
her hand freely. As the point of his blade pierced her palm, she
pulled away, causing the blade to go deeper into her flesh and pain
to shoot up her arm and into her shoulder. Her fingers began to
tingle as the adrenaline rushed through her veins to numb the cut.
Blood filled her palm and dripped onto Lydia’s shirt.

Kira expected to hear Octavion’s words
instructing her next move, but instead he turned away and dropped
her hand.

“What is it?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

He took in a deep breath and pushed to his
feet. The muscles in his shoulders seemed to heave and expand as he
backed away from her. His eyes were glowing like wildfire as he
stepped into the shadows of the pine trees. He clenched his fists
beside his trembling body.

His voice was deep and almost inaudible as he
struggled to speak. “I won’t be able to help you. You must do this
alone.” He backed further away, bracing himself on the trunk of a
small pine tree. “Press your bloodied hand against the wound. Push
firmly and hold it there. Do not release it.” He closed his eyes,
grabbed a branch from the tree and broke it off in his hand,
sending splinters scattering to the ground.

“What’s happening to you?”

“Nothing.” A frightening growl rumbled
through his throat. “You need to hurry, Kira. See it heal in your
mind. It must be . . . firm.”

Kira leaned forward, placed her bleeding hand
over Lydia’s wound and covered it with the other, pressing as hard
as she dared. At first she felt nothing, but when the Crystor began
glowing red and burning her wrist, the bolts of pain she’d felt in
the cave returned. This time they shot up both arms and into her
shoulders. The sensation grew, moving quickly into her chest. By
the time it reached her back, tears flowed freely down her face.
She closed her eyes and tried to visualize the torn pieces of
Lydia’s body mending themselves and sealing the wound.

At some point, the pain settled into Kira’s
heart and her body went numb, but only for an instant. As she tried
taking a deep breath, her heart leapt in her chest, bringing her
senses back to life with a burst of chilling torture she could only
describe as hell. It was as though someone had forced acid through
her veins. It rushed down her arms and through the tips of her
fingers, taking the warmth from her body and all her energy with
it. Lydia’s chest heaved and she arched her back, sending a shock
straight up Kira’s arms and into her heart. The force was so strong
it threw Kira to the side, leaving her unable to move.

As Kira lay shivering from the chilling
effects of healing, Lydia took in a deep life-giving breath. Kira
scanned the area where she’d seen Octavion last, but he was gone.
She closed her eyes, willing to give in to her fate as she
struggled to hear her own faint heartbeat.

Kira’s next memories came in
flashes—Octavion’s arms holding her close as he lifted her from the
ground, the morning sun streaming through the trees, the silent
whisperings of a friend, her fight to survive. The images kept
coming, filling her mind with expectation. Maybe she wouldn’t die
after all.

When Kira finally woke, it took her a few
moments to remember what had happened and where she was. Octavion
stood a few feet away, tending a fire. He placed two large logs
atop an already roaring display of flames. Small streams of light
filtered through the trees and touched the forest floor, making his
image a bit hazy. She barely recognized this place as the clearing
she’d first been brought to. The sun made it seem a lot less scary
and mysterious.

To her right, a small structure came into
view, a lean-to covered with branches and pine boughs, and
decorated with feathers, glass beads, and small swatches of colored
fabric. Just inside, Lydia lay on a pile of what appeared to be
animal pelts, her covers made up of several layers of fabric and
tapestries, their pattern and texture unlike anything Kira had ever
seen. Lydia’s face had a healthy glow. Her eyes were closed—her
face at peace.

Kira tried to pull herself up to get a better
look at her surroundings, but her aching muscles betrayed her.
Every joint in her body felt stiff and sore and she had one whopper
of a headache. She rolled onto her back, expecting to see the blue
sky through the branches above her, but instead discovered she also
lay in a lean-to. It was slightly larger than the other, but
without decoration. Like Lydia, she rested on a bed of animal
pelts, but Kira’s covering was different—a plain tan weave
intertwined with a white, satin-like thread.
This must be
his
, she thought.

Kira tried to swallow, finding no moisture to
quench her dry mouth. She peeled her lips apart to speak, but
nothing came. She pushed back the covers in an attempt to get
Octavion’s attention.

“Kira, be still.” His voice was heavy, yet
gentle. Within seconds, he knelt at her side, his brow furrowed
with genuine concern. “You need to rest.”

She opened her mouth, trying to force her
words again, but they came out as a whisper. “I’m thirsty,” she
managed to squeak. She tried to clear her throat.

He nodded, then lifted her to sit against the
sturdy log wall of the lean-to. She cringed as the muscles on her
right side tensed, pressing against her tender ribs.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked.

Kira lifted her shirt just enough to expose a
dark bruise the size of a man’s boot. “No, they’re just a little
sore.”

A low grumbling sound escaped his chest. He
touched the tender flesh with the tip of his fingers, putting
gentle pressure on several of her ribs. “Does that hurt?”

She tensed. “A little,” she confessed,
lowering her shirt. “I don’t think they’re broken, just
bruised.”

His focus was still on her side, even though
the fabric covered the evidence of her attack. “Did I do that?”

“No, that stupid blonde guy kicked me.”

Octavion turned his head to one side, as if
looking for something through the trees. “Perhaps I should teach
those boys a lesson before I release them.”

“They’re still here?” she squeaked out again,
her throat still begging for water.

He nodded. “It is a slow process, and I must
be careful not to miss anything. Our lives depend on it.”

“Process? What are you doing to them?”

“They have seen too much. I am merely helping
them forget.”

He adjusted her blanket and reached behind
him to pull a large leather bag from one of the shelter’s
supporting branches. At the smaller end of the bag was a plug. He
pulled it loose with his teeth and pressed the opening to her lips.
At first, the water trickled onto her tongue, barely satisfying her
thirst. She grabbed his hands and brought it closer, pouring water
into her mouth and spilling it over her face and onto the
blanket.

“Easy,” he said, pulling it back. “Too much
will make you sick.”

Leaving her hands on his, she looked into his
eyes. The last thing she should have been thinking was how
strikingly handsome he was, but for an instant, she allowed herself
the luxury. In addition to his hypnotic eyes, he had strong,
masculine facial features—from his thick brow to his sultry lips,
he was gorgeous. Even the fine stubble along the chiseled contour
of his jaw and chin was alluring. His hair fell in light brown
waves, barely touching his shoulders. She tightened her grip to
avoid a sudden urge to run her fingers through it.

Octavion raised one brow and grinned—exposing
his dimples. “Are you well, Kira?” he asked, as if he knew exactly
what she thought of his looks. She could see it in his eyes—that he
too saw more in hers than anyone else ever had.

Kira’s face warmed with embarrassment as she
released his hands and lowered hers to her lap. “Yeah, much better,
thanks.”

“I owe you my life for saving my sister.” He
returned the water bag to its branch. “I will forever be
indebted.”

Kira looked past him at Lydia, lying so
still. “Is she okay?”

He didn’t answer, but took Kira’s arm and
examined the bandages around her hand and wrist. His touch was
gentle, but his grip held her where she’d rolled against the rock
and it hurt. She pulled away and rubbed it.

He looked at her curiously. “I am sorry if I
hurt your hand. I barely touched it.”

Kira pushed up the sleeve of her jacket to
expose a nasty purple and black bruise, still swollen. “This one’s
yours,” she whispered.

The color paled in his face. “You have every
right to fear me, Kira. I have treated you no better than your
attackers.”

Kira wasn’t sure what to say. She didn’t want
him to feel bad, but he needed to know how much harm his temper
could cause. When she didn’t respond, he covered his handiwork and
unwound the bandage around her palm and wrist, this time being
careful not to touch her arm. She looked at the swollen cut and
tried to stretch her fingers. The skin pulled against the scab,
sending a twinge of pain through her hand.

“Be careful not to reopen the wound,” he
said.

Kira pulled her hand away. “Will you stop
worrying about me and answer my question? Is Lydia okay?”

He sat back on his heels and sighed. “Yes.”
But his troubled expression said something entirely different.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“It’s been three days and she still
sleeps.”

“
Three days?
” Had she been asleep that
long? “My mom’s gonna freak.”

“I think they are still away. I went down
this morning and saw no sign of your mother or her . . .
friend.”

Kira sighed. “Paul’s a jerk. He won’t care if
I’m gone, but mom will worry. Are you sure they’re not back
yet?”

“I am sure.”

Kira turned her attention back to Lydia.
“What about her dad . . . umm . . . I mean your dad?”

Octavion smiled. “Not a problem.”

“Oh. Well then, I don’t understand why you’re
so worried about her. I barely woke, right? I’m sure she’ll be
fine.”

“You have stirred. I have been able to give
you nourishment. She has not moved, and I am concerned.”

He’d said she could die saving Lydia’s life,
yet here Kira was, still breathing, but Lydia showed little sign of
recovery. “What did I do wrong?”

“Do not blame yourself. You saved her.”

“Not if she isn’t waking up. What if I put
her in a coma or something? Maybe I should have let you make a
deeper cut or not fought you.” She threw back her blanket and tried
to get up. “Let me try again.”

“Kira. No.”

At first, Octavion merely kept her from
getting up, but she was so weak, his restraint quickly turned into
an embrace. Feeling his warm body against hers, she gave in and
relaxed. She lay in his arms, drawing what she could from his
strength. Kira wanted this nightmare to be over. “She can’t . . .
die.” Exhausted, she gave in to sleep.

When Kira woke again, darkness had engulfed
the clearing. The flicker of the fire cast shadows that resembled
movement in the trees, playing tricks on her eyes. Toran lay near
Lydia, licking his paws, but there was no sign of Octavion. Kira
clumsily pulled herself up to sit. The big cat lifted his head and
let out a long, deep growl. She had no idea how much time had
passed, but as she started to move, she realized that some of her
strength had returned. She still felt sore, but strong enough to
stand if she used the lean-to for support.

Toran also stood, lazily blinking his eyes as
if he’d just woken from a long nap and hadn’t a care in the world.
Kira smiled, remembering Octavion’s words in the cave—that the cat
was gentle—then realized a feeling of peace had come over her. The
closer he got, the more she felt it. Maybe Octavion was right.

“Come here, boy,” she called, patting her
thigh with her hand.