Captive (30 page)
Then Regan had come to her kennel exciting himself with taunts of breaking her. Only they weren’t merely taunts. He’d rape her again, no question. She’d fight, of course, and he’d relish the sport. And the game would continue until she no longer fought. Until her spirit died. Until Regan tired of her. Or until a new alpha leader took over the Yard. But then, another game would begin, for what alpha would deny himself the pleasure of this woman?
Max knew staying at HuBReC would have tortured and killed her spirit. So he'd helped her escape, only to torture and kill her body.
Which fate was worse?
I’d rather die free,
she had said. Max knew the woman would indeed die free.
But not today.
He wiped her tear. “You’re going to live. You know why? Because you’re a survivor. Do you hear me? You will fight death and you will win.” He picked up her chilled hand and held it firmly in his as he pressed his lips to her palm.
“Fight for me...Addy.”
B
eep beep beep beep.
Max stopped rowing. Addy’s running watch had been set to sound every fifteen hours for her prenatal injections. Though she hadn’t needed the shots since giving birth yesterday, he hadn’t shut it off.
He looked forward to the sound just as he looked forward to Noah’s feeding cries. It gave him another reason to go to Addy’s side. Though touching her arm when turning off the alarm didn’t hold as much pleasure as touching her breasts when feeding the kid.
Of course, her breasts inevitably triggered intimate memories of the breeding box...or the ice cave...or the shower.
Hell, yeah, the shower.
Hot water and steam and her naked body inches from his in a tight space. When she had turned from him to lather, he would have killed to be the soap sliding up and down her wet, tempting skin.
He’d had to recall every bloody battle and savage gladiator death he could to prevent slamming her against the wall and forcing himself deep inside her.
Blood rushed to his groin. Again.
Hell.
The woman was one-day postpartum, fever sick and unconscious, and he still couldn’t stop thinking about sex with her. “Damn beast. Control your urges.”
Peering into the ocean, he knew five—maybe ten—seconds in the ice-cold water would quell his lust.
Beep beep beep beep.
Right. The watch. His swim would have to wait.
He dropped the oars on the umiak floor before crawling into the tent and turning off the alarm.
Still burning with fever and breathing shallow, Addy was weaker than a newborn lemming. The rise and fall of her chest was barely noticeable. She was getting worse.
He rubbed the heel of his palm against his chest, but it didn’t help the ache in his heart. He knew he was no damn provider. There was nothing more he could do.
She had been in and out of consciousness the past thirty hours and hardly managed to drink any water or the broth he put to her lips. Under normal circumstances that would have been a good thing, since his cold fish soup tasted like crap. But this wasn’t normal. Addy was noticeably dehydrated.
Noah stirred and cried.
As Max positioned Addy and the kid for feeding, a thick lump fisted in his gut. How much milk could the boy get this time? Was he even doing the right thing? Nursing had to be dehydrating Addy and using up precious energy she needed for healing. What if he were prolonging Noah’s demise and speeding up Addy’s?
Her alarm rang again and Max turned it off. What about the prenatal shot? Maybe the vitamins or whatever was in those injections would help her get better. After digging through her bag, he found the syringe and placed it on her navel. Blowing out a short breath, he waited for the buzzes before the injection.
Nothing happened. No buzz. No kickback. No vibration from a shot.
He tried again and a third time. Still nothing happened.
“Dammit.” He tossed the syringe aside. Now what?
Heat radiated off Addy’s body, and goose bumps covered her flesh. What was causing her fever? An internal infection?
Leaving Noah to suckle, Max took a piece of the baby blanket he had ripped for rags and slipped out of the tent. He reached over the side of the boat, dunking the rag into cold seawater and ringing it out again.
He didn’t know how many miles they had traveled since leaving HuBReC, but guessed by the temperature that the days hovered around zero degrees. The warmer weather would be good for Addy and Noah. Especially since the thermal cream was running out. Even though he had limited himself to applying it to his face, fingers and toes, it wouldn’t be long until nothing was left.
Once again at Addy’s side, Max wiped her forehead with the cold cloth.
He remembered their first night together and how in his bed she had looked so young. Vibrant. Healthy. Now her face was drawn and sallow, her hair greasy and matted with thermal cream and sickness, her body limp.
His throat constricted. He couldn’t breathe, and gulping the air did little to help. He hated being as helpless as she looked.
Gone was the wildcat who had shredded his chest with her nails. Gone was the woman who didn’t take crap from anyone, including the damn aliens. Gone were the two things he loved most about her: her fire and passion.
“Why won’t your fever break?” he whispered so as not to disturb Noah. The kid had fallen asleep with her nipple in his mouth. Lucky kid.
Maybe when Addy got better, she’d let him do the same thing. Only he wasn’t thinking about falling asleep. His libido stirred. Dammit. He had to stop thinking about sex. The poor woman was sick, for God’s sake.
The hair on his neck prickled. His head crooked up, listening. Something didn’t sound right outside. Max scrambled out of the tent and scanned the horizon.
He could hear it plainly now, that familiar, unwelcome hum.
His muscles tightened as he searched between icebergs for the motor. On the distant horizon behind them, he saw the subaquatic surface.
Hyboreans.
Crouching, he made his way to the bow rope and pulled in the towed iceberg to help conceal the umiak. Then, taking his eyes off the craft for only an instant, he tied up the shortened rope.
Though clearly in the South Arctic Current, the subaquatic appeared stationary, having gained no ground on them. Could it be anchored? Why would a Hyborean anchor a watercraft in such a strong current?
Dammit. Ferly Mor must have learned they were on Tuniit land and was waiting for them to come through the Southwest Passage. If he hadn’t pushed the wolves as hard as he did, the Hyborean would have been ahead of them right now.
Vaulting into survival mode, he reached for the oars. Then stopped.
Seared on the retina of his mind’s eye was Addy’s languid body. How long could she teeter on the verge of death before slipping away?
Ferly Mor had the power to save her.
He also had the power to lock her in a breeding box and force Noah to suffer a gladiator’s savage existence. That would happen over Max’s dead body. Which about summed up his fate if he were captured.
Damn. If he went forward, he’d risk Addy’s ultimortem and most likely starve Noah. If he went back, he’d risk his own death plus Addy’s and Noah’s unbearable fates.
I’d rather die free then live like an animal,
she had said.
It wasn’t an easy decision, but he picked up the oars and rowed away from Ferly Mor.
He rowed into the night, stopping to check on his precious cargo or to rub the ache from his shoulders or to quench his thirst, then rowed harder to make up for those lost minutes of time.
His hands blistered beneath his gloves. Exhaustion attacked his body. Every muscle ached to the point of numb fatigue. Still, he rowed.
His grip slipped from the oar again.
Sleep. He needed sleep. But he had to keep rowing. The current alone wasn’t enough to distance the umiak from Ferly Mor. How long might the Hyborean linger there before he weighed anchor and continued his search south? There was no way in hell he’d be able to outrun a Hyborean watercraft. Especially when he was exhausted.
With each heavy blink, the starry night disappeared and reappeared until it vanished all together. His body slumped forward waking him. Okay, maybe a ten-minute catnap would revitalize him then he’d be able to row harder.
Besides it was time to check on Addy and Noah. He wiped sea spray and sweat from his face. With the heat radiating off him, lord knew he’d warm up the tent in minutes. He dragged himself inside. The lightstick cast an ominous glow over Addy’s body.
He shuddered. Max squeezed her hand and Addy’s eyes opened. She didn’t say a word. She didn’t have to. Gray irises spoke with an intensity that ripped through him like arctic wind and his gut froze into a lump of ice.
Her eyes said
Promise me.
as clear as if she’d articulated the words, then they closed and she took her last breath.
Endorphins flooded his veins, empowered him with the vigor of five gladiators. He searched for a pulse. Nothing. He rested an ear on her chest. No heartbeat. No rise or fall.
Please, God. No. She can’t be dead.
She couldn’t leave him now. Not after her fire had melted the abominable beast inside him. Not after she’d made him feel human. Not after she’d made him
feel
.
He pinched her nose and covered her lips with his. Did he even remember CPR?
ABC. Airway. Breathing. Circulation.
He blew twice into her mouth then pounded on her chest.
No response.
Two more breaths. More compressions.
Still nothing.
“Breathe, goddammit.” His yell startled Noah, whose apathetic cries spoke volumes.
Again and again he performed mouth to mouth, but Addy wouldn’t reawaken.
Panic, frustration, and anger rose inside him, annihilating what little composure he had left. He grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her. “Why the hell didn’t you stay with the Tuniits, you stupid woman?”
Her head flopped back. Matted red-blonde hair hung limp behind her lifeless body.
“Oh, Addy.” He choked back raw, unfamiliar emotion. His lungs constricted. How could he breathe when everything felt broken inside? Gently, he supported her head in his hand and drew her body to his, holding her tight against his aching chest, burying his face in her hair. “Why didn’t I go back to Ferly Mor?” he repeated over and over again as he rocked her.
Noah’s weak cry pierced Max’s heart until he could bear it no longer. Max released Addy, her hair clinging to his tears as he laid her back on the pelt.
With heavy, trembling hands, he picked up his scrawny son, who barely filled his palms. “Forgive me—” he choked on hot tears “—for killing your mommy.”
M
ax woke with aching muscles, a humming in his ears, and a little added weight on his chest. Did Noah fall asleep on top of him before or after exhaustion knocked him out for the count?
Wiping sleep from his eyes, dried sea salt abraded his lids and stung him to tears.
Or so he wanted to believe. He couldn’t still be crying over the woman.
The room glowed with dim light from the lightstick. Darkness outlined the space between tent flaps. He couldn’t have been out long. An hour, maybe?
He should get back to rowing, but what was the point? Addy was gone. And soon, Noah would be, too.
The hum in his ears grew louder. It sounded like a motor. And it sounded close. Too close. Like right next to the umiak.
Was it Ferly Mor?
Hope and panic hit him with a one-two punch. There was still a chance to save Addy and Noah.
But at what cost?
Max scrambled out of the tent to see a subaquatic hatch sublimate. A tranquilizer gun pointed directly at him.
Ah hell. When Addy reawakened, she was going to kill him.
I
t was pitch-black. She couldn’t see. She blinked, opened her eyes wider, then blinked again. Still blackness. Panic sprung to life inside her, causing her body to tremble. Was she blind?
“Max?” she croaked through a dry throat. Not sure that he heard her attempt at his name, she mustered up the energy to call again, louder. “Max?”
His leg jerked against hers.”I’m here, I’m here,” he said in a wrenched-from-sleep voice.
Addy tried to sit up, but rubber arms gave out. Her head throbbed.
“Don’t,” he said. “You’re reawakening.”
“Can’t see.”
“It’s okay. There’s no light right now. Here, drink this.” His hand gently lifted the back of her head until her lips met the canteen. He poured a small amount into her mouth.
“More.” Cold water splashed over her tongue and down her throat. It spilled from her lips and dribbled down her neck. “Baby?”
“He’s asleep between us.”
Max placed her hand on the baby’s warm little body. Joy quelled her earlier panic. Her baby was alive.
“Thirsty.” As her eyes began adjusting to the darkness, she was able to make out the shape of the canteen as she drank. The silhouette of Max’s arm, body, and face slowly came into focus.
She drank as though she hadn’t in weeks. “How long have I been out?”
“Since you gave birth two days ago.”
Water spewed from her mouth, drenching him. “Two days? I haven’t fed—”
“I fed him.” He wiped his face with his sleeve.
“You?”
“Well, I plugged him in. Noah did the rest.”
“Noah? You named our baby Noah?”
“No, you did. Remember?” His voice was soft, gentle as if talking to a little child. He brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. “Just before you passed out, I asked what his name was and you said ‘Noah.’”
“I remember you asked if he had a name and I said no.”
Max pulled his hand away and cleared his throat. “Oh.”
“Have you been calling him Noah?”
“Yes.”
What gives? He’d never once called her by her name, yet he’s been calling the baby by his name for two days straight. And it wasn’t even a real name. It was an answer to a question. A few minutes ago, Addy felt weak, tired. Now anger rose inside her giving her strength to sit up. “Well, that’s just great.”
