Captive (28 page)

She emerged from the tent into a black, bitter night, and quickly climbed out of the umiak following Max.

“Engage your crampons,” he said.

As she manipulated the little switches on her boot, he threw the remainder of the foul-smelling seal meat and blubber to the wolf pack, taking no time to feed the lead dogs first. It was every animal for himself tonight.

The windless night held an eerie calm intensifying every sound, from the gnawing and lapping of the dogs to the crunch of the crampons digging into the frozen ground as they rushed around the vehicle. Working together—she held the lightstick while Max unfastened the umiak from the sled—a sense of dread blew through her.

Crack. Crack. Pop.

She redirected the beam to her feet. The terrain no longer comprised white powder over hard-packed snow. It was ice. Frozen on the surface. Liquid underneath.

How thick was it? Could it hold the weight of an umiak, sleigh, team of wolves, and them?

“Light!”

She snapped the beam back to Max’s hands, trying to think weightless thoughts, but instead calculated how many pounds she must have gained so far. Considering the amount of calories she had burned from escaping plus the limited food, it couldn’t be more than a meager fifteen pounds. Good for standing on ice. Not good for a healthy pregnancy.

At least she had eleven more weeks in which to gain.

“There.” Max unhitched the umiak from the sleigh. The boat slid back on the runners of its underbelly. The two wooden rods kept it from tipping over as well as protected the animal skin from tearing while being pulled over ice.

After the wolves finished their meal, she shouted the command Yakone gave her, and watched them run off toward home until engulfed by darkness. Once again, Max and she stood alone in vast, black emptiness. Stars twinkled in the moonless sky but offered no light.

Her fingers tingled. A shiver climbed her back. Pain gripped her belly. She lifted her abdomen to take some pressure off and realized the baby had been quiet lately.

Too quiet.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yes.” She nodded for emphasis but could see he wasn’t convinced. “Now what?”

His eyes narrowed as he studied her, probably wishing he hadn’t agreed to be teammates. She forced a smile. His gaze shifted, searching the endless darkness around them, before settling back on her. Scrutinizing her as if deciding something, he scratched his bearded chin. Suddenly, he grabbed the hemp rope tied to the umiak’s bow.

“We tow the umiak and hope we don’t fall through the ice. That hurts like hell. Until you finally drown.”

She gulped, remembering how she had died on Earth. “You’ve drowned?”

“Twice.” He handed her the middle of the rope. “If you can’t pull, just walk. It will save me from having to haul extra weight. Don’t let go of the rope. It’s your lifeline. You know...in case.”

Wide eyed, Addy watched Max take the end of the rope a few feet ahead until it snapped taut in her gloved hand.

He turned to face the umiak. Digging his crampons into the ice like a pitcher readying himself on the mound, Max leaned his weight back and heaved. Once the umiak moved, he spun one-eighty, pulling the rope over his shoulder.

Tightening her grip, she dug her crampons into the ice and stepped forward, helping Max drag the boat to the ocean.

The umiak was lighter than she had expected, and slid relatively easily at first. But after a short time of walking and hauling, either the boat grew heavier or she grew weaker.

Breathless, she couldn’t put her muscle or weight into it anymore, not to mention certain parts of the female anatomy were aching. Ligaments had stretched out and loosened, dropping the baby deeper into her pelvis. Supporting her belly with her left hand provided little relief.

Tears spilled and froze on her cheeks. She continued walking, but could no longer assist Max with the pulling.

The cracks and pops came at faster intervals now. Their pitch had changed. It sounded as if the ice had thinned and was cracking directly beneath their feet.

Don’t fall in. Don’t fall in.

A soft, pinkish light glowed low in the sky to the left. And with the dawn came a spectacular sight; blue-tinted glacial mountains flanking them on both sides as they traveled through the valley or, as Max called it, the glacial tongue.

Crack. Splash.

Her hand jerked down with the tightening rope. Max’s lead leg had broken through the ice up to his thigh. Cracks spidered around him.

Before she could yell his name, he had sprawled out spreading his weight over the fracturing ice.

She held her breath, fearing an exhale would add weight to the ice breaking around him.

Slowly, carefully, Max heaved himself out. “Get in the boat.”

He didn’t need to tell her twice.

He tied the rope around his waist, moved to the back of the umiak and pushed. The boat only made it ten feet before the bow crashed through the ice knocking her to all fours.

Max pushed again. The rest of the umiak fell through the ice, and he clung to the stern as his lower body plunged into the icy water.

“Move starboard,” he called. “I’ll climb in port side.”

Addy shifted over to prevent capsizing while Max pulled himself hand over hand beyond the tent until he had room to climb into the boat. Seawater dribbled down his legs and boots, but he didn’t seem to notice. In fact, he didn’t bother wiping himself off. He made his way to the front, wielded his broadsword, and leaned over the bow, plunging the Hyborean steel through the ice and breaking it into pieces.

“Grab the oars. I’ll make a path. You propel us through.” Again, he plunged the sword into the ice.

Addy picked up the paddle, weighing the wood in her hand. It wasn’t heavy, and under normal circumstances she could paddle with no problem. But nothing about these circumstances had “normal” written on it.

Her thighs ached. Her lower back ached. Her pelvis ached. And not just from fatigue of exertion. Something else was going on.

Something alien and frightening.

After another thrust of the sword, she heard cracking, smaller pieces skidding over ice, some plopping into water and ocean lapping against the boat.

This was a two-person job. They were in this together, and Max was counting on her to do her part. How could she tell him she couldn’t row this thing? How could he possibly chop away a path
and
paddle them through before the boat froze into the ice?

Max paused to wipe his brow, his breathing labored. His stomach growled. He had worked nonstop all night and into the morning transporting them to the sea. Most of that time, she had spent walking without towing the line, and he had never once berated her or complained.

He took a deep breath, and thrust the sword into the ice again.

She dropped the oars into the water and rowed.

Unrelenting, Max hacked away and Addy propelled them through his manmade channel until the sun chased away the last shadow of night.

They could plainly see ocean now, littered with white chunks—some small, some huge, floating like three-dimensional puzzle pieces. Seawater cut between the icebergs like little roads. Only the roads weren’t stagnant. They moved and shifted as the ice floated by, merged with other pieces and broke up again.

Max sheathed his sword and laid it on the side of the umiak floor. “Nice teamwork.” He slapped her back.

A smile tugged her chapped lips. That was the first sincere compliment he’d given her. And the first time he’d touched her in approval. Well, not counting the breeding box. Heat flooded her cheeks and neck. “Thanks. You, too.”

“We’re not in the clear yet. Give me the oars and I’ll maneuver us through this minefield.”

She offered no argument and slid onto the umiak floor to rest. Sitting low in the boat, she felt like an ice cube floating in a giant’s cocktail glass.

Chunks of blue-and-white striated ice broke from glacial walls. The rumbling avalanche plunged into the sea, churning waves four feet high. She’d never seen an iceberg calve before. The sight was spectacular, yet disquieting.

How was it that water, even in its solid state, remained dynamic? Snow drifted on wind. Glaciers gave birth to icebergs. Water melted. Froze. Glided on its liquid self creating passages one second and obstructing them the next.

Countless times Max rowed for outlets only to encounter shifting blockades. He’d curse and change course and get trapped again.

Mother Nature may be beautiful, but she had a cruel sense of humor and an evil laugh.

The bitch.

Cramps gripped Addy’s back, squeezing tight and deep. The pain rounded her sides. Rubbing her back with her palm heel didn’t help. She repositioned herself. No relief. Mimicking the short breaths taken by pregnant women on TV didn’t work, either.

She was nine weeks. As far along as Tess had been every time she had miscarried.

And died.

Grasping and squeezing the side of the boat, Addy searched for something else on which to focus her attention. She watched Max’s back muscles stretch his gladiator suit with each rhythmic stroke of the oars. What felt like an hour had passed before the pain finally lessened.

But another wave of pain followed closely on its heels. Was this normal? Didn’t women sometimes have false labor pains?

“Hell, woman, do you have to breathe like that? You’re driving me nuts.” Max turned to face her, saw her tears and rested the paddle on his knees. “You okay?”

“No.” More short pants. “I think I pissed off Mother Nature.”

“You what?”

“I called her a bitch and now she’s retaliating.”

“What are you talking about?” Using the paddle, he pushed the umiak away from an iceberg. “Are you okay or not?”

“No, I’m not okay!” Any idiot could see she was in pain and scared out of her mind. “I’m having really bad cramps.”

“What do you mean, cramps?”

“I don’t know. Cramps. Pain. I think I’m in labor.”

Max’s face froze in an
oh hell
expression. His anxiety did nothing to ease hers. “Try to relax.” He turned around and paddled faster than before.

Where did he think he was going in such a hurry? It wasn’t like there were any maternity wards out here. The only “hospital” she knew of was at HuBReC. Ferly Mor would have known what to do.

She looked down at her thermal suit. It appeared dry on the outside, but fluid trickled down her inner thighs. “My water broke.”

“Shit.”

“I’m only nine weeks.”

“Shit.”

“Ow, ow, ow.” She fisted her hands and again started her version of Lamaze breathing.

“Shit.”

“Can’t you say anything but ‘shit’?”

“Well, I was going to ask you to cross your legs and hold it in for eleven more weeks, but I thought you might pitch me overboard.”

She laughed and sniffled at the same time, then wiped her nose on her sleeve. “I’m scared, Max. It’s too early. It’s going to be stillborn and it’s all my fault. If I stayed at HuBReC—”

“Don’t.” He pushed off another iceberg. “Forget HuBReC.”

“What do I do, Max?”

*  *  *

“Hell if I know.”

He had never been around for this part. Hell, he had never been around to watch the women’s bellies grow round with his children. It had surprised him how much he enjoyed seeing her belly and breasts swell. He liked knowing he was responsible for the transformation. And he especially liked knowing a part of him grew inside her.

You damn animal. She’s in pain, and all you can feel is pride?

And guilt. But now wasn’t the time to think of that. He was the alpha of this pack. He needed to take charge.

“Get in the tent.” He helped her up. Her body, warm from crying, leaned into his for balance and support as they moved into the makeshift tent. He eased her down on the animal pelt. “I wish you had someplace more comfortable to do this.”

She nodded but said nothing. She didn’t need to. Terror shone in her wide gray eyes. He knew she thought the same questions he did. Had the baby died? Would she?

Guilt, resilient and uncompromising as Hyborean steel, stabbed him full force in the gut, and twisted. He knew last night she couldn’t tolerate more physical stress, yet he’d made her help tow the sleigh. Why? To save himself 140 or so pounds?

He was a goddamn alpha gladiator. He should have been able to handle her added weight. Especially since he’d gained some muscle back after Ferly Mor had fixed him up from his last torture. He was a pussy.

“Turn around,” she said.

He did and heard the zipper of her thermal suit, then some rustling as he imagined her wiggling her way out of it.

“Okay,” she said.

He faced her again. Thermal pants were folded next to her and a blanket of soft animal fur covered her naked-from-the-waist-down body.

Crash.
The boat pitched to the side. She screamed. He fell forward, straddled her body with his arms, bracing himself to avoid landing on her. His nose was inches away from hers, which wouldn’t have been a terrible thing if she weren’t about to give birth. “You okay?”

“I think so.” But even the dim glow from the lightstick couldn’t veil her pale face and panic-stricken eyes.

“I’ll be right back.” He moved off and scrambled out of the tent to find the umiak had collided with ice. “Hell.”

He leaned his head over the side and found a small tear in the boat’s animal skin covering about two feet above the waterline. The damage wasn’t bad, but he couldn’t let the boat drift, bouncing off icebergs like a pinball. He had to stay out here and maneuver through this frozen obstacle course.

The woman cried with pain. Another contraction?

She needed him, but there were miles of these ice hazards. If he didn’t fight through the icebergs, they’d either be crushed to death or ripped to shreds.

*  *  *

“Hee, hee, hoo. Hee, hee, hoo. I don’t know if I’m breathing right,” Addy managed to say when Max returned. He looked ill. Defeated. Her heart pounded. “What happened? Is it the Hyboreans?”

“No. We hit ice.”

Titanic
’s iceberg scene played in her mind then skipped to the people bobbing in the water, frozen to death. “Are we sinking?”